Later that evening, Gray was sitting on the couch, perusing through a number of photo albums Lucy and Mira had put together for him. His sight had returned shortly after dinner, and due to the short duration of ethernano absorption, he estimated it would leave him again before the hour was over, judging by how he could already feel that fatigue coming on. He hoped Wendy was right about building up his levels while he slept. Then he wondered how much ethernano he could store if he simply refrained from using magic at all. He'd long ago decided to limit his sight to when he really needed it, so that wouldn't be an issue. But would he be able to resist that urge to cast his magic, just to feel that intimacy again? If it meant building his stores enough to cast more powerful spells, it's not like he was a stranger to delayed gratification.

But such concerns could wait until tomorrow. For now, he was too absorbed in going through Joy's baby album. Seriously, they'd actually put together a baby album for her, with all the milestones filled out. Date of birth, hair and eye color, size and weight; even a clipping from her first trip to the pet groomer. It's a shame she'd fallen asleep over the first album he'd gone through. Literally. She was still sprawled out over the open book. Oh well. She wasn't all that interested in looking at photos anyway.

Within the baby album was a spot on the first page designated for "Baby's First Photo". That photo happened to be the one Lucy had taken way back when Joy had first opened her eyes. She'd captured that moment perfectly. Joy looked so tiny in his hands, so fragile and delicate looking. And her eyes! But she was so adorable! Even more so now. To think he'd seriously considered never allowing himself the chance to see her.

"That's one of my favorite photos of you."

He gave Lyon a brief glance in greeting, waiting for him to sit before he actually looked at his own image. He didn't see what the big deal was. It was just his face in profile, his eyes directed not quite at Joy as he held her close. His hair fell in such a way that most of the scars around his eyes were hidden. And now the thought occurred to him that he'd yet to see his own reflection. Of course he'd visited the bathroom a couple of times since this morning, but whether consciously or not, he'd somehow managed to avoid looking straight into any mirrors. Except for images conceived through touch alone, he had no idea what he looked like, and little desire to find out.

"I like that photo, because you look so carefree and happy there. Lucy really captured a wonderful moment. I remember thinking then, how it was the first genuine smile I'd seen on your face since you came home."

"Huh," was all he could think to say as he took a second look at his face. Lyon was right. His smile was so genuine there. He recalled how the vet they'd been taking Joy to had commented how her survival was nothing short of miraculous, that she was lucky to have been found and taken in by such caring people.

Gray could acknowledge that. He's come to the point where he's able to accept the good people saw in him, and receives gratitude for his actions without doubt or reservations now. But he will forever declare that he and Joy had saved each other back then. He couldn't imagine how different his life would be without her.

"Wow, this couch really is comfortable. I can see why you're so reluctant to switch out for a real bed."

Gray furrowed his brow. Where had that come from all of a sudden? That's never been an issue, and Lyon knew it. In fact, today was the first time the topic of even getting a real bed had ever been brought up.

"What?"

"But you know, Erza was right about all that open space out there. I think it's a shame to not use it to its full potential."

Gray supposed that was true. Without the couch out there, his living room did have a great deal of room to move around. Before he could see, all that open space had made it easier for him to walk without worry of obstructions in his path. But it did seem pretty empty out there.

"Also, I know it's gotta be an inconvenience having all our friends eating their meals where you sleep. You have absolutely no privacy in here."

That's true. During his welcome home party, he'd had to go outside to get away whenever he'd needed space, until he finally said "screw it" and just put up with the scrutiny as he dozed on the couch. Still, why would he need another bedroom if—

"And since I'm gonna be visiting Magnolia so often, it'd be nice knowing I'd always have a place to stay."

Gray's eyes widened at that, and he had to look at Lyon to know for sure he'd heard that right. He wasn't sure what kind of face he was making, but Lyon's started showing a bit of doubt.

"That is, unless you're wanting to get everything back to the way it was. If that's the case… I mean, I'm not presuming anything. I know how much you value privacy. The inns around here are actually pretty nice—"

"—You'd really want to come back?"

"I haven't even left yet, and I'm not planning to any time soon. Not until you think you're ready to be on your own." Seeing a look he knew all too well, he was quick to assuage, "And my desire to stay has so little to do with your fears or worries. I won't lie and say they're not a part of it. But I think I'm allowed to be selfish, just a little.

"I hate that it took you nearly dying for me to really appreciate our friendship. But even with all the heartache and difficulties, I've enjoyed my time here. I'm grateful for how close we've grown. And your guild welcomes me like I'm one of their own. Heck, Mira even gives me member discounts on food and drinks. Other than Master Ur and you, I never really had any family growing up. But what we have here, it's more than what I'd ever thought family could be. I don't think that's something I could ever be able to let go.

"So… if it's alright with you, whenever the time comes when I no longer need to stay here, I'd still like to be able to come home whenever I'm in town."

Gray was speechless. He'd never even considered that Lyon would want to live here semi-permanently. At most, he'd imagined the occasional call over lacrima just to check in, maybe a letter now and then. Sporadic visits when work allowed. But he actually wanted to live here? How often? Did it matter? Even if for just a few days a month, that would still mean he wouldn't be alone. Lyon wouldn't just be a guest. That room would be occupied. Even when he was away, Gray would still have the assurance that came with the knowledge that he wouldn't be living alone.

" … What color do you want to paint your room?"

"Ha! I've thought about that, actually. Maybe a neutral tone, with some nice accents… You're sure about this? I don't want to impose."

"Too late to back out now. I'm already rearranging furniture in my head. Hell, I should just add a second floor. Not like I can't afford it."

"We can find time to talk about remodeling tomorrow. It's getting late, and we're supposed to meet everyone early for breakfast before the festival. You should clean up. It's been a few days since you've had a proper shower. Do you need help with the dressings?"

The shudder he felt running through his body surprised him, though Lyon apparently hadn't noticed, it was so minor.

"... I can manage. And… thanks, Lyon. For everything."

"You have nothing to thank me for. Go on. I'll put these albums away. Make sure you take your meds, and use that aloe salve Wendy left for you on the counter."

"Got it."

A few minutes later found Gray standing before the bathroom mirror. He'd just taken his meds, far fewer now than before: A few capsules for his heart condition, and a number of anti-inflammatories and reduced dosages of all the pain killers. Now that he so rarely suffered from all those psychosomatic pains he'd once been plagued with, Porlyusica had very slowly been weaning him off of the stronger stuff.

The issue now was his strong reluctance to close the mirrored door to the medicine cabinet. He knew he would find it difficult to undress as well, though not for the prior reasons of having too little range of motion.

Steeling himself, he took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he closed the cabinet door, raised his head up, and for the first time since he'd lost his sight, gazed upon his own reflection.

A stranger gazed back at him.

Erza was right. He did see a little of his mom, and a great deal of his dad. He wished he could bring himself to smile at the thought, if only so he could allay some of her fears at such a silly notion that he'd be displeased to see her there. But all he could focus on were his eyes.

His eyes. But not. They were his, such that they'd been given to him, but they weren't HIS. There was something off about them. Oh, Porlyusica had done a wonderful job creating them with his original eye color and basic appearance in mind. But there was just something lacking within their depths. They weren't as dark as he remembered, and to him, it seemed as if the light reflected off of them in a strange way.

Their inherent eeriness wasn't helped at all by the many scars which surrounded both eyes. He knew they'd looked far worse before, and that practically everyone in the guild has seen him without his sunglasses at some point. But this was all new to him. His hands hadn't allowed him to feel nearly enough to paint an accurate picture of what he was now seeing. Burn scars were so much more devastating than all those slice marks.

Speaking of which, from the many numerous incisions he'd been able to see surrounding his guild mark, he thought he knew what to expect when he would expose his whole body. Hesitantly, he reached for the top button of his shirt, and paused.

The pull against his throat tightened as his grip loosened. The blade shifted ever so slightly, cutting into his neck as it still choked him.

He hadn't thought how much that wound along his neck would have scarred. By the time he'd awoken from that long stupor, any pain from that wound had faded, and his hands couldn't feel it. His friends had certainly never drawn any attention to its presence. Maybe they were so used to it, it was barely noticeable to them now. What else would he find when the shirt came off?

'Just get it over with. I already know what's there.'

But his hands shook in trepidation, and his dexterity left him at that moment. Grasping the sink vanity in front of him, he leaned heavily upon it, taking a few deep breaths, trying to center himself, looking down at his hands. The hands which he'd done his best to keep the underside out of his view all day. He'd surprised himself with how well he'd been able to resist the temptation to look at them, but it hadn't really been that hard.

'Like ripping off a damned band-aid. Slow or fast?'

He was debating whether he should turn his hands over, or maybe even draw his sleeve up, and start with the tally marks. Immediately shooting that idea down, he made the decision that slow exposure may be the right idea; but also, compared to those particular wounds, the incisions which criss-crossed his body were the lessor of all the traumas.

Closing his eyes and nodding in acceptance of the inevitable, he straightened, and with a renewed but forced calmness, slowly undid the buttons of his shirt. Allowing it to slide off, he could barely hear its drop to the floor over the roaring of his rapid heartbeat. He did the same with the dressings around his stomach, slowly unraveling it, giving a soft hiss as the final layer pulled slightly on the largest burn, before piling the whole strand over the shirt.

'It's fine. I know what it looks like. At least the worst of them are healed now.'

Taking a final steadying breath, he released it as he slowly opened his eyes, allowing his gaze to meet his reflection's, then lowered his eyes to survey the damage for the first time.

ooooo

Hearing a thump, then a crash, Lyon dropped the festival brochure he'd been skimming, and propelled himself out of bed, heading straight for the bathroom.

Giving the door a few firm knocks, he called out, "Gray! Are you alright? What was that noise?" Receiving no answer, he listened for any sound coming from within. Just heavy breathing, maybe some gasping.

"I'm coming in!"

Thankful for their long-standing rule to not lock the bathroom door, for emergencies just such as this, Lyon entered, not surprised to find Gray trying to empty his stomach into the toilet. He was shirtless, and it didn't take him long to guess what must have happened. They should have considered this. He'd made the effort to keep him from seeing the more damaged parts of the city today. This was his body, not a mere building or park! Having seen his damaged body so often, was he so used to it now, that he'd neglected how Gray would react to seeing it for the first time?

By this point, Gray was just dry heaving, but Lyon was dismayed by the lack of sound. Of course he'd lost his voice again. It would have been shocking if he hadn't. Kneeling beside him, he attempted to rub soothing circles along his back, but his hand was quickly brushed off, and Gray scrambled away, sitting with his back against the bathtub.

It was indescribable agony. He landed on his back, and let out a primal scream that he couldn't hear, as once again, his senses and thoughts were overwhelmed with stimuli.

Willing the memories away, he tried to speak, growing frustrated when nothing came out. He was about to resort to Gesturing when he caught sight of the underside of his hands, the ligature marks around his wrists... then the tally marks.

"Five times."

His breath hitched.

"You've passed out five time since we started this little game..."

He froze, eyes locked upon those vicious mementos of the many times he'd tried to escape the torment, now cruel reminders that his one escape was no longer an option. He hasn't been able to drift since before Milky Way, and until now, he hadn't needed to. The scars were ghastly, sickening to look upon, and he felt an overwhelming sense of weakness and shame take hold at the sight of the six he'd added himself during his mental breakdown months before.

"The count was off. I had to fix it. But I'm afraid it's still wrong. I can't remember how many times I've drifted, so I just restarted the count from after my memories returned. It seemed right. That's when the bitch returned, after all..."

He was jolted, almost violently, from his descent into another attack by the sound of splashing water.

Lyon had turned the tub faucet on.

He spasmed in shock at the unfamiliarity of sight in his return to full awareness. His friends had more than once spoken amongst themselves of their hope that, upon the return of his sight, he'd be more easily reassured whenever he came out of these episodes; but he'd never believed that to be the case. There was a comfort in the darkness he was finding himself longing for more often than he'd anticipated.

His breaths came in harsh gasps, and his eyes roved manically back and forth, unsure where to rest them. He was startled when Lyon crouched before him, catching his arms before they could flail about, and smash against the wall or floor. Lyon gently forced his shaking hands together, then covered them with his own, hiding them from view. Keeping one hand over them, he then reached his other hand up to cup Gray's face, trying to gain his focus. Their eyes met, one set wild and glassy, the other calm and reassuring.

"Gray, it's okay. I'm right here. We're home now. See? We're home. You're safe now. You're safe. It's okay."

He continued speaking, voice going softer as Gray relaxed by degree. Something in his eyes changed, recognition replacing confusion, though the fear remained. Along with disgust, shame, and sorrow. Before Lyon knew it, he found Gray's hands clutching his shirt, his head buried in his chest as his cries were finally heard. He wrapped his arms around his shaking form, and waited him out.

Several minutes later, his cries calmed to hiccuped gasps and quiet sniffs as he loosened his grip and pulled away. He opened bleary eyes, accepting the hand towel he found before him. He didn't recognize it on sight, but by feel, knowing it was one of several his friends had bought to replace the ones they'd thrown out while redecorating his home. Taking his time to clean his face gave him a few extra seconds to compose himself, and try to figure out where to begin. He knew Lyon was far more worried than he was letting on.

While he was doing that, Lyon was about to flush the toilet when he saw the various pills floating within. He made a note to himself to call Porlyusica when he had the chance, to ask her about having him take more before the night was over, before closing the lid and flushing everything away, then took a seat and waited.

Before long, Gray lowered the towel, but kept it in his hands; and if he'd grip it off and on throughout the next few minutes, Lyon wouldn't say anything. He brought his knees close to his chest, resting his arms upon them, ostensively to keep the seals out of sight. His breathing was normal, and he no longer shook. Lyon hoped he was ready to talk.

"... Can you tell me what happened?"

...

"I think... I think I've seen enough for today."

At this, Lyon grew more worried, and sad.

"I'm so, so sorry. I didn't think—I should have, but I thought with how you'd always been okay with me seeing the scars, you'd come to accept them too. Maybe you had, but I should have figured actually seeing them would do something to you... Are you okay now? Should I call someone?"

...

Gray's eyes lost focus, and Lyon wondered if his magic had run out again, but he then looked at the towel he was now weaving around his fingers, and responded.

"... I still need to shower... I... I need to..."

'You need to feel the water,' Lyon figured.

"Okay. I understand. Are you dizzy or anything? Do you think you'd need help getting cleaned up, or...?"

Gray answered with a small shake of his head.

"Okay. At least let me help you stand. Wendy said you'd have trouble with those kinds of movements."

When he gave no sign of dissent, Lyon held out a hand, making note of Gray's reluctance to place his own within, but after another steadying breath, he closed his eyes and allowed him to take his hand. The burns in his abdomen protested the movement, but he was able to hold himself steady as soon as he'd risen to his feet.

"I'll find out if you can retake your meds. If so, I'll leave another dose in the cabinet for you. And when you're done, I'll help you redress your wounds. Are you okay with that?" Lyon knew he was treating him like a child right now, but when he was in such a vulnerable state, he tended not to notice, or didn't mind. He needed the extra push sometimes.

With a barely discernible nod, Gray reached for his belt, but paused.

"Turn off the lights on your way out... please?" he pleaded.

Lyon understood. He could only imagine the thoughts going through his head right now.

"Of course."

With that soft click, the room was plunged into comforting darkness.

That production took forever to write!!!

So happy to be back! Sorry the first update in months was such an angsty one. You know how I like to build up to things. Also, I had an interesting plot bunny take up residence in my head last month that just had to be written, so next week, I'm gonna publish a different story. No worries. "Quiet Game" will still remain on it's biweekly schedule, while the other story, "Fault Lines in the Sand", will be posted during the off weeks. Hey, at least for the next little while, you get a weekly update from me!

The other story is my own take on what could happen during an END Natsu vs Gray battle, without interference from anyone. I wanted to play around with their respective slayer powers a little bit. This is NOT the battle during Alvarez, but a completely separate event which takes place some time later, before 100YQ. Will it be angsty? Of course. Will there be hurt/comfort? So, so much. I'm still debating how I'm gonna rate it. Awesome fights, action, and drama? I like to think so, with just a pinch of humor to round the whole thing out. Look forward to the first chapter next week! Can't wait to share it with you!

Next Chapter: Loren returns, and helps to put things in perspective.