Juvia noticed that Gray was in a particularly sour mood. They had been friends long enough now that she knew he wasn't just grumpy; something was actually wrong. When she made a move to ask him what was it was, she was too late.

"Hello, Gray,"

The young man with white hair like ice said the greeting snidely, condescending; as if his presence was a gift which Gray was undeserving. Gray's response most certainly did not paint the same picture.

"Get outta here, you bastard,"

Juvia watched with shock as Gray's fist met the snide man's cheek and sent him back a step. The newcomer seemed calm, surprisingly, as if he had been anticipating Gray's retaliation, and Juvia had the feeling that this encounter ran deeper than her understanding. She watched as Gray geared himself up to take another swing, and felt herself moving to stand in between the two of them before he could.

"Hold on!" she heard herself say, "You can't just attack him! Let him speak!"

Gray seemed to glare right through her. "No way, Juvia! Move so I can kick his ass off of my property!"

She was going to respond when the egotistical man behind her spoke up, surprising her. "You should do as he says, madam. He has every right."

Juvia felt queasy and wrong, but she eventually subtracted herself from the equation and stood back. She watched Gray beat the man with hair like ice senseless out on the lawn.

l l l l l

When Lyon started to bleed, Juvia decided to step in, personal or not. She convinced Gray to calm down at least. She couldn't get him to agree to patching Lyon up though. She volunteered to take Lyon to her house, then, to give him some proper first aid. Gray followed, probably because he didn't trust her to be alone with his enemy, and Juvia appreciated his clear concern very much eventhough Gray likely wouldn't admit to caring.

Lyon-- the man with white, spiky hair that was sharp and jagged and stood on end like frozen stalagmites-- fell onto her couch with grace (it was truly an intriguing thing to watch). He wasn't too out of sorts, had enough consciousness and direction to keep himself upright while Juvia worked on him. Gray stood just behind her, glaring at Lyon over her shoulder.

"Be thankful, douche."

"Gray--"

"He's right," Lyon stopped her chastise, looking up at her pitifully from a swollen face, "I never did thank you. I very much appreciate your help, madam."

Juvia frowned, but said nothing and continued to work. The more she heard Lyon speak, the less she understood why Gray hated him so much. He was very cordial, kind, and soft-spoken. Nothing about his disposition screamed "bastard" quite like Gray had-- nothing screamed "bastard" at all. It was also hard to believe that this was the same man who had spoken to Gray so snidely before. He seemed very serious now.

Lyon wasn't nearly as quick to shed his shirt as Gray, but he did do it and he did do it without preamble. Juvia knew Gray hadn't struck his abdomen very much, so at the most, there was light bruising, but nothing that couldn't be treated with ice through cloth material. When she offered him an ice pack wrapped in a small cloth, he took the pack without it. His skin was far less sensitive to the cold than others.'

Gray gave Lyon a stormy look after she moved, his arms across his chest. "What are you doing here?"

"She would have wanted us to keep in touch," Lyon responded, his look stony. Juvia thought that if his face was less swollen, he would have looked very handsome.

"Don't give me that bull,"

"It's not bull and you know it, Gray. She raised us like brothers-- like we were blood."

"I don't want to hear a word about blood from your mouth. It clearly didn't mean anything to you how she raised us!"

Gray's volume rose, as did the tension in the room. Juvia was once again caught between helping to settle the matter and minding her own business. She decided that she wouldn't do anything unless it got physical.

"You know that what happened was out of my power to control at the time. I've apologized for this countless times," Lyon's volume dropped, "I just want my brother back. I'm tired of fighting."

"You're no brother of mine."

Juvia watched as the stare-off lost tension but grew in length. The two men sat in silence for a long time, having some kind of second, secret conversation with their eyes, and Juvia felt slightly uncomfortable. Out of curiosity (and against her better judgement) she asked,

"Who's 'she?' "

Both Gray and Lyon looked at her then. Gray looked away and went to sit in a chair across the loveseat, his head hanging low on his shoulders out of some unreadable emotion. Lyon stiffened before he told her quietly.

"Her name was Ur. She meant a lot to us."

Ur.

"As in . . your mentor?"

Lyon gave her an incredulous look that quickly changed to realization-- of what, Juvia had no clue. Gray still wouldn't look up from his feet.

Lyon sighed after a long while. He stood up, and Juvia didn't stop him because he came up strong. "Gray. I will leave you alone until you decide to visit me. And I expect that you will, because you no longer have any excuse. Miss Juvia," Juvia gave him her attention as he turned to her and bowed at the waist, "Thank you again for your hospitality."

"Oh, it was really no trouble! You flatter me, honestly. Thank you for being so gently!" She could feel herself blushing like mad; she had never been treated so kindly before. Lyon was something else.

And though it tugged on her heartstrings, she didn't stop him from leaving her house with half of his face still swollen from Gray's beating. As soon as the door shut, Gray spoke. He was quiet, terse, and it unsettled her greatly.

"He killed her; he killed Ur."

Juvia knew for certain, then, that the other boy from Gray's childhood was the ironically narcissistic, cordial man with hair like ice.