Disclaimer: I do not own Ib or any of the elements in the game. They belong to their respective owner; I am merely using them for my own creative amusement.

AN: Yes hello, no I am not dead. I don't make it a secret that I consider the Together Forever Forgotten Portrait fanfic route overdone and bludgeoned to death, but after listening to Skylar Grey's Back from the Dead (Get it? Pffttt), I decided to join the bandwagon lol. I added my own spin as well as a sort of character study on Older Human Mary and her relationships with Ib and Garry. This is a free shipping fic. I didn't focus on the romance to better develop the characters so squint wherever you like.

Important Note: This story is relatively tame overall, but there is a tad bit of violent imagery and some not-so-subtle-I-want-to-strangle-you moment so just a fair warning in case you're a bit sensitive to these particular topics.

EDIT: I've fixed up some SPaG errors and changed around some words to better suit my intentions but do tell me if you see anything else that's amiss. My so called quality has deteriorated ahaha orz Thank you to everyone else who reviewed and gave back constructive criticism! I'll keep them in mind :3

Happy reading x

Rosemary Lighter

She rushed through the hallways, hands trembling, her heart pounding. Mary dumped the stack of charts in her arms onto the desk, not bothering to follow procedure or protocol, not when the horrifying piece of news had just reached her.

Time was of the essence.

Especially in a hospital.

She slammed the elevator button and crossed her arms, tapping her foot against the shiny floor tiles. As soon as the elevator door rang she unapologetically slipped inside without waiting for anyone else to enter or leave. The other nurses ignored her, far more interested in the latest interesting gossip around the hospital.

Waiting was torture, but it still took less time than running up five flights of stairs.

"Did you hear? Did you hear?"

"Some of the girls say that he looked like he didn't age a day."

"Yes! They say someone found him collapsed in the middle of the street, poor thing!"

"I know, but you know what the strangest thing is? They said—"

Mary pushed her way forward as soon as the doors opened and tore off. Her long ponytail flying after her, her breathing uneven and her side stitching, she stumbled as she reached her destination. One hand slid against the wall in an attempt to balance her body properly again. She knocked three times. Mary took a deep breath, carefully masking her expression before shakily turning the door knob.

X

She closed the door quietly behind her and stared at the person sitting up reading in the bed. Her mother and father were leaning against each other on the sofa in the private room, eyes closed and breathing heavy. The young lady turned to her and cautiously smiled. The nurse took slow steps towards her, expert eyes scrutinizing every detail.

"Mary?" Ib tilted her head, blinking up at her sister. "What's wrong?"

The young nurse quickened with her last few strides and pulled her close, tucking her head under her chin, unable to speak for a moment. "What do you mean what's wrong… I'm working my shift here at the hospital, then I hear my sister's name and find out how she was found injured on the streets."

Mary felt her sister hugging her back, relaxing against her. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault." Her voice was too thick to continue. She felt Ib shake her head and tightened her grip. "It's not."

Finally pulling back, Mary frowned at the plaster against her cheek, the bandages around her head and cast on her right forearm. If only she could heal her instantly, she would. All it would take would just be a little Eternal Blessing and…

She felt her world spinning.

"Mary?" Ib tugged on the bottom of her uniform, brows furrowed in concern. "Are you alright?"

"Ah, yeah…"

No. Stop it.

"You blanked out for a second." Her voice trembled.

She wouldn't go back.

"I'm fine, Ib. You should get some rest."

Not after all of her hard work, not after everything she learned about this world and the years it took for her to finally feel human.

"You look really tired too."

She chuckled, giving herself a good stretch. "My shift isn't over yet. I just needed to see you, but I need to get back. I'll talk to mum and dad later, they look so exhausted." She checked the room for any sharp or dangerous objects, and then checked the windows. She closed the curtains with a certain finality and sighed, knowing her stalling was over. "I've got to go."

"Take care, Mary."

She looked back at her sister and smiled, "Take care, Ib. Get some rest."

X

She splashed the cold water against her face and gasped, astonished by her pale reflection in the bathroom mirror. The contrast between her porcelain skin and the purplish bags under her eyes were too sharp. Her hands were still trembling as she slowly brought them up to her face, wiping most of the icy droplets away. Mary took another deep breath and straightened, grabbing the paper towels next to her.

Something felt very strange about Ib's sleepwalking incident tonight. It had been a problem for the past several years but… Did Ib seem more apologetic than usual? Did her smile come slower than it usually did? She seemed so shaken, but it wasn't odd since she had never been injured this badly.

And that look on her face.

Was it… guilt? Or fear?

And the thought that came to her in the room was unexpected. She hadn't thought of the vases for years now, accepting the present world as it was. What had brought it on?

She couldn't think straight at the moment, her skull was starting to pound. Mary was definitely stressed, but there was a growing restlessness inside of her.

Exiting the bathroom, Mary briskly walked back to her station, prepared for the stern lecture that awaited her. She would take it in stride though and go through each of her tasks as efficiently as before. She had earned this life; she was going to damn well do her best.

X

Mary Evans was an energetic young woman. She could survive long shifts at the hospital and didn't complain of exhaustion like the inexperienced young doctors would. To her, it came with the job. The following morning however, she could barely get out of bed.

She slowly cracked her eyes open at the mouth-watering smell of muffins and coffee coming from the kitchen. Lazy stretches and loud yawning made way to scuffling feet down the stairs and a tired smile to her parents at the breakfast table.

"Ah, Mary." She smiled weakly at them and nodded, plopping down next to her father. "Did you have a good sleep?"

Pouring a glass of orange juice, she nodded.

She didn't. But her mother didn't need to know.

"How was work last night?" The elegant woman took a dainty sip of her coffee and brushed a back wayward strand of hair behind her ear. Mary self-consciously played with the pony tail she hadn't even bothered to take off when she collapsed into bed only a few hours ago. She compared golden locks to curly brown and inwardly sighed.

"It was alright until…" She rubbed her eyes in exhaustion and her parents sympathetically nodded, her father patting her hand. "Yeah. What happened anyway? Isn't the house always locked and the keys hidden?"

Mary and Ib lived with their parents for 2 reasons:

The first was the fact that Ib's sleepwalking had been a problem for the last five years. They had tried all medical treatments to no avail.

The second reason was so that her parents could take care of her when Mary couldn't, being too busy at the hospital at times. There were more eyes at the family manor to her disposal than some fancy apartment with suspicious neighbours.

"Last night, your father," her mother started, giving him a pointed look, "forgot to check with security, being too inebriated from poker night with his boys. Oddly enough, the guards say they didn't see anything when they were checking the security cameras."

"That's not possible. How could she possibly find and use all the hidden blind spots when she was sleepwalking?"

"I blame your mother's beautiful eyes, you can probably see in the dark with them."

The women at the table looked at each other. "William, please."

"So how was Ib found?" Mary didn't want to interfere in her parents' arguments in any shape or form. "And how did she get hurt so badly?"

There was a silence at the table with no one moving or speaking.

"We're not… really sure, my dear."

"Was she sleeping when all that happened?"

"She was found wide awake but in a daze."

Her father tapped his chin, turning to his wife in sudden astonishment. "It was very close to that missing person, wasn't it, dear?

Mary almost choked on her orange juice. Her parents simply glanced at her, not paying much attention. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "What missing person?"

"The man who reappeared after fifteen years."

"Fifteen… years…" She repeated the mental calculation of the time over and over again. Mary felt sick to her stomach. It couldn't possibly… it wasn't possibly… Her throbbing head was so preoccupied with Ib and helping the doctors and patients last night that she just wasn't partial to hushed rumours at the time. The words hadn't sunk in until now.

"We made sure she had nothing to do with the papers dear, don't worry. She's already in a state as it is, she doesn't need the media hounding her simply because of a strange coincidence."

"They were found together?"

"Almost. The person who found the missing man found Ib injured not more than 10 m from him."

"It's very strange but at the very least, the two are safe and sound now."

"Yeah," the young nurse whispered, "at least."

X

"Ib."

She smiled her gentle, innocent smile and took a sip of the sparkling water.

"Yes?"

She had stayed at the hospital for the past three nights, finally coming back home and enjoying dinner with Mary. Their parents had work out of town. She looked better. Her colour, or whatever she initially had, was finally returning. Most of her bandages were finally off, save for the cast on her arm.

"Mum and dad told me what happened a few days ago." Ib was always painfully subtle, yet the way her expression stilled spoke volumes. Mary carefully kept her calm mask in place and probed further. "When did you wake up—?"

"—I don't remember."

She casually settled her glass with a soft thud on the table.

Both nervous and upset about the immediate response, Mary turned to the mini-TV in the kitchen. She blinked, suppressing a gasp. She had carelessly left it on the news channel whilst waiting for Ib earlier. Too eager and restless to talk with her, Mary had only turned down the volume. Her eyes steadily grew larger as she finally registered the reporter's almost muted words.

"—the thirty-three year old man claims to have large gaps in his memory, speculated by experts to be due to trauma and—"

She abruptly switched it off. She was slipping.

"I was watching that."

"You don't like the news." The young lady only nibbled on her spaghetti, the slight narrow of her eyes demanding an explanation. Mary sucked in a deep breath. "You hate bad news, how they're always talking about how terrible the world is. Besides, we haven't talked properly in ages."

"Hm."

"So uh…" She was at a loss on how to proceed. "How's work lately anyway?"

"Not much progress. The hospital wasn't conducive."

"Sorry about that, we needed to make sure you're okay. Thank goodness you're left-handed, huh?"

"Hm."

Mary swirled her meatball around, the usually delicious dinner made by their cook was now cold and tasteless. The pregnant pause suffocated her and she had trouble swallowing her next bite.

"What's your latest project now?"

"A children's book..." Ib paused, taking her time to cut her food properly as she had been taught. "About a careless girl named Carly and her pet rabbits."

Smiling at the return of life and conversation, Mary finally let her guard down. "You draw animals so well, Ib, especially rabbits."

"I want to watch the news."

Her stomach sank. "Why?"

"Wouldn't it be wise to educate myself on current affairs?" She had already questioned why the TV in her hospital room mysteriously wasn't working during her entire stay.

"Ib..."

She mumbled under her breath, "Why do you always..."

"What?"

"Why are you so opinionated about what I should and shouldn't do?"

The pregnant pause returned.

"Ib?"

"I love you but... I'm twenty-four years old. I have trouble sleeping and when I do, I sleep-walk. Since you're a nurse, it's your calling to help as much of the sick and wounded as possible but—"

"Where is this coming from?"

She stood and slowly made her way around the table, hugging Mary just as tightly as she did the night at the hospital. Utterly confused, Mary tried to speak before she was once again cut off. "I'm twenty-four years old. I've been in this house and explored it long enough that every inch of every acre is engraved in my blood."

She froze.

"I'm not as helpless as you think I am. I've got a job as an illustrator and I can take care of myself, you know." Without your help echoed silently after her words.

Mary let out a nervous chuckle before finally hugging her back. "Then please do."

"May I please watch the news?"

She was trapped. Mary silently reached for the remote and switched on the mini-TV. A man's profile greeted them both, a vicious face with a long jagged scar under his left eye. Ib stiffened against her. Mary looked upwards to a look of undisguised horror, eyes wide and unseeing. The reporter's voice continued to fill the absence of words between them.

"The man was reported to be missing on the night of the—"

"Please turn it off."

She did. Ib slowly made her way back to her seat with her eyes downcast, hands clutching her skirt tight. Watching her closely, Mary leaned forward, pretending to reach for the sparkling water.

"Did you know him, Ib?"

Her head turned a slight fraction. "No," she quietly murmured.

X

When the little girl first arrived, there were so many interesting things to do and so little time to do them all. In the end, she decided she loved gardening. Her mother liked to tease her when she returned rosy cheeked, soil staining her dress and the ribbons in her hair missing from the wind blowing them all away.

"My dearest Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow?"

The young nurse quietly stepped through the dark night, smiling bitterly to herself at the fond memory. "Oh mother, with silver bells and cockle shells and pretty maids all in a row."

Her prized garden never failed to brighten her mood before, no matter what time of the day or what time of the year it was. She worked hard with the gardeners to make it as beautiful as she possibly could. Today, it seemed to mock her.

The combination of moonlight and rain seemed to give them an ethereal quality, something quite unearth-like and strange. She walked down the pathways and sighed, swirling the white umbrella to watch the dancing droplets fly.

She never planted roses, no matter how much they all suggested and she was glad her younger self was so headstrong. Her heart couldn't bear to be reminded how foreign and unnatural she was as the midnight colour of the roses under silvery moonlight. It was unnecessary reminding Ib about roses either.

Ib. What was she going to do?

Stopping by the rosemary flowers, Mary was struck by a raining memory of a night so achingly similar to this one, save for the soil-stained hands and the black umbrella over her smaller shoulders. The hands of time had always been moving, she had to face the truth. She had to face the consequences of her actions.

Her time was almost up.

She fell to her knees and started digging.

X

Mary had done her research. His last check-up was ten minutes ago, so she had at least half an hour to herself. After her night shift was over, the young nurse discreetly made her way to the room number that wasn't even in her care. She closed the door quietly and stared at the person lying down on the bed. She took slow steps towards him, expert eyes scrutinizing every detail.

The only sound in the room was his steady breathing and the chirping of the morning birds outside his room window. His table was full of get-well cards and bouquets of roses. His family had finally gone home to rest, leaving him alone for the first time in the past four days. Visiting hours had not yet started.

Making her way to his bedside, she hesitantly sat in his visitor's chair. Mary laid her hands on her lap, eyes downcast, mulling over her decision to come here.

"I was hoping you'd be awake, but I'm glad you're asleep."

He was just as she remembered, tall and strange, frighteningly pale with purple hair. She watched the rise and fall of his chest and noticed the weariness that had started appearing in his sleeping face.

"You look like you've been fighting the world, and you're tired too, I suppose. I..." she rummaged through her pocket, taking out his silver Zippo lighter and the flower she carefully preserved in another, "...have something to return to you."

She placed the lighter inside one of his open hands with a single rosemary flower and closed it, feeling immensely awkward.

"So, where do we begin now that you're back from the dead?" She giggled to herself, close to tears. "I'm sorry, that was so insensitive I—"

She let out a long, shaky sob and covered her face with her hands.

"I hate you," she whispered, "I hate you so much I can't stand it. Why did you come back? Why did you…"

She shook in her place, trying to regain her composure despite her now red face and the hollowness in her chest.

"Did you know? When Ib first took out your lighter from her pocket, I panicked. I confiscated it from her. I was the one who left the gallery with her; she didn't need to remember anything about you or that time inside that world.

"She didn't need you, she had me."

Mary sniffled and kept her head down in her hands.

"I didn't know what to do with that lighter of yours, so I hid it for years. I was so careful about what Ib and I did and the places we went to. I barely left her side and when she didn't remember at all. I thought I was safe, that we were safe."

The silence of the room suffocated her. She looked up and watched his face sleeping face. Her hands gently reached out to cup his much larger one, closing around it protectively. What she was doing was so wrong. She was breaking so many protocols, so many unspoken rules but Mary couldn't stop herself.

"It's funny learning all about this world, especially the parts that I didn't expect. Humans are so fragile, so easy to break. You're not flowers. You don't heal very easily, not physically, not emotionally."

She paused.

"You humans hurt each other and yourselves so much. You break and cry and bleed. And then you perish into dust. There's so much death. This wasn't the world I wanted. But it's the world I'm in.

"I visited you sometimes, at the gallery that turned into a museum. I held a funeral for you at the manor gardens. It was midnight. It was raining hard. I went out with my black umbrella, sang you a sad song and buried your lighter inside a candy tin underneath my favourite rosemary flowers."

Mary blinked at the sudden sharp exhale he gave and froze. Several long minutes passed by before she finally relaxed, knowing that he wasn't going to open his eyes.

"Do you know the meaning of the rosemary in the language of flowers? I guess I wanted to honour the chance you gave me. Or more accurately, the chance I took away from you. Or maybe… I don't even know what it is anymore. Do I deserve to be here? The guilt… This feeling inside crushes me. You have no idea how conflicted I was about my place in this world. Even now I..."

She held his hand tightly, just short of hurting him, "I don't know whether to cry in relief, to put my arms around you or to just kill you for real."

Her chair made a loud noise as it scrapped the floor. Standing over him, Mary placed both her hands over his neck, feeling the pulsing life underneath her fingertips. Tears fell straight from her face onto his shirt and she sniffled.

"This would undo everything I've worked so hard for wouldn't it...? But everything's already falling apart since you've come back. Ib is starting to drift from me. I can barely function at work knowing you're in the same hospital building.

"Will you tell people the true face of Nurse Mary? Will you shout from the rooftops that she's a murderer and a liar?"

His breathing was still deep and even. His long eyelashes barely fluttered as she slowly let go of his neck and placed one hand on his shoulder, the other running through his soft fine hair. His face was peaceful despite the various cuts and scratches that still littered his body. He still hadn't been released due to the stab wound to his abdomen.

"The only thing I have left is my humanity, and I have no intention of losing that to you."

Morning light began to peek in through the thick curtains, softly illuminating her sad face. She bent down to impulsively press a soft kiss on his forehead. Mary had said her piece. He wasn't going anywhere, but neither would she.

The young nurse quietly exited the room and hurried down the corridor, only to bump into a beautiful young woman as she turned the following corner. A bouquet of pink and white flowers fell to the floor. The two stared at each other, each with surprise etched into their faces.

"Ib?"

The young lady in question picked up the flowers off the floor and nodded at the nurse, unable to make eye contact with her. "Mary… Just finished your shift?"

"Y-Yeah. I'm pretty tired, so I'm going to head home and sleep it off."

Mary did not comment on the bouquet or her uncharacteristic lip gloss. She simply gave her a quick hug and left before she exploded from both her guilt and anger, the scent of roses haunting her.

X

No one else noticed.

Of course no one else noticed.

Only the people who had entered and experienced the world could see the ever so subtle changes in her Father's works. That was why she worked so hard to make sure Ib didn't come anywhere near this place, always making sure she wasn't alone for too long, always watching over everything she did and taking drastic measures where she had to.

When she was younger, Mary scarcely came here herself, visiting only when she knew Ib was too preoccupied with other matters to secretly follow her. She wanted to visit her old family occasionally, to pay a small tribute to them for taking care of her for as long as she could remember.

She noticed him of course.

Marble skin and lavender hair, surrounded by groves and groves of blue roses, thorns encircling his entire sleeping form. She had swallowed a lump in her throat and almost panicked before she put on her coy girlish act, tugging on the shirt sleeve of the passing museum curator and putting on her sweetest, sheepish smile.

"Excuse me, sir! What's the story behind this picture?"

He scratched his chin and examined the picture, tilting his head this way and that. "The late master Guertena had painted this picture for a magazine page filler, but for a short time, the portrait was sold as a tarot card. It's nearly impossible to find it now though."

"The man's purple hair sure is pretty though, huh?"

"P-Pardon?" The curator glanced back and forth between the little girl and the painting and blinked several times. "I-Im not sure… if…"

The little girl only gave him a bright smile. "What do you think this picture means, sir?"

"I'm sure only the master knew its true intent, but to me personally, it represents a struggle to make things right. The red rope around his ankle, the surprised and saddened expression, I'm sure they all have their own meanings."

Mary kept silent and stared despondently at the sleeping man's face, glad that they were not seeing the same image.

"Back again huh?"

Mary swivelled on her heel to find the old museum curator and gave him a genuine smile. "I can't seem to stay away for too long."

"I can completely understand, having been here too long myself." The man stroked his beard and looked at the painting Mary was just analyzing. smiling at the portrait. "You seem to enjoy The Hanged Man very much, don't you?"

"You remember?"

"I have never seen a young person so fascinated with a single piece to the point of staring at it for a few hours at a time."

"Never?"

"Not that I can remember."

"Not even if she had brown hair and garnet eyes?"

He cleared his throat and smiled awkwardly. "You do like saying strange things though, don't you, young lady?"

Mary chuckled in good humour and turned back to the hanged man, her expression darkening. She eyed his hands gripping the thorn noose entangled around his neck, rotting roses sprouting from his mouth. His face was contorted from the excruciating pain. Eyes were rolled upwards, begging for help and despite the many accessories adorning his wrists, fingers and ears, the man's most prominent feature was the long, jagged scar underneath his left eye.

This man had somehow hurt Ib. And she was somehow glad that he was now being hurt.

The museum curator jumped when Mary let out a strange giggle. The woman slapped a hand over her mouth and he looked curiously onwards, unable to decipher whether she was laughing or crying, indecisive of whether to leave or stay. The turmoil inside couldn't be more palpable.

"I'm a nurse, and I'm a terrible person," she muttered to herself.

"I'm sure you're not."

They stared at each other. The older man was about to apologize for being rude and invasive before she grinned at him charmingly, her peculiar blue eyes shining. His breath caught in his throat.

"This painting isn't supposed to change, and yet every time I visit I find something new, something else to mull over, something that keeps me up at night."

He nodded, deciding to stay. "That's the beauty of art. It haunts you."

The young nurse sighed, beyond exhausted with everything. "I see. That's how it is."

"Something like that, I believe."

"I have to go." She nodded at him and made to leave. "Thank you for the company."

He awkwardly nodded and smiled. "I hope you make sense of your new epiphany."

"Me too."

X

Her memory of him was stronger than Mary had anticipated.

She had been such a fool.

Of course she would remember him. Of course she would choose him over her. Even if it took her over fifteen years. Mary hadn't been vigilant enough, she hadn't done enough. How else would Ib know the route to the art museum?

When she sleepwalked, she always trying to find him.

She must have encountered the man with the scar, judging by her reaction during dinner, and although the circumstances are unclear, they must have entered the other side together. And although it was nothing short of a miracle, she somehow managed to rescue her old friend and escape together.

Another sacrifice. Another set of unlikely events that spiralled out of control.

But they got hurt in the process.

And then they were found.

And now she was going to be found out.

Even when she was being a little too attached, even when she observed a little too closely and stated her opinion a little too loudly and followed a little too often, she meant well. She loved the girl, she loved her family.

They were going to know she was a fake.

The world was so good to her, it even gave her a history. She was adopted at birth when her parents found her outside of their home. She was so physically weak she couldn't play outside until she turned nine. She was home-schooled by tutors. Her parents brought her to the art museum as a birthday surprise.

She was always grateful. She tried to pay back her dues. But it wasn't enough. It was never enough.

Her heart wasn't even real, what right did she have to claim she loved and was loved?

And now her sister, her entire world, was slowly but surely becoming farther and farther away. She looked at Mary with wariness ever since that day at the hospital. She didn't smile as easily, she didn't return her hugs as naturally.

He would expose her as the liar and hypocrite she was. He would tell her world all about how she unintentionally murdered him in a fit of jealously. He would tell her how she doesn't deserve happiness. She can't pretend to be human anymore and fool everyone around her.

She had been a painting since her conception and she was a painting now, wasn't she? She had replaced her empty canvas with a sister and a family, with rainbows and sunshine and fond school memories, with a degree in nursing and a job she was proud of.

But she was at a standstill and there was nothing further she could do.

She didn't deserve to live. So she simply existed.

X

Mary continued to work hard as a nurse, avoiding all corridors and routes that lead her towards Garry. She avoided eye contact with Ib, purposely avoiding to eat together with her whole family so they don't question the silence between the two girls.

Ib didn't question the sudden distance. She disappeared often with her new-found freedom. Her sister didn't question her actions and she didn't question her lack of restrictions.

Mary worked and worked and worked to her bones. Only when the call of her treasured gardens became too strong did she finally step outside one chilly evening. The young nurse wrapped the cardigan closer around her and took her usual path. The warm and golden colours of dusk soothed her soul, reminding her fondly of family and paintings far away.

As she rounded a corner and came across the gazebo, a curious sight filled her eyes. Her breath caught in her chest. She froze, not knowing what to do before she swivelled on her heel, trying to escape them as fast as she could.

"Wait."

She stilled at the sound of the rich, warm tone. She heard his footsteps approaching her and shyly looked back, standing her ground against his taller frame. Garry was always freakishly tall, and both she and Ib were rather petite. She came just underneath his chin. Mary blinked up at the softness in his eyes, her own tearing up at the unexpected gentleness he was showing her.

"I've wanted to talk to you for a very long time."

She shifted, professionalism kicking in. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine. It's been a month. Better now, I suppose." He smiled a little and Mary found herself not breathing again. "Wow, you really did become a nurse as Ib had said." She gasped.

"What else did Ib say?" Garry scratched the back of his head, her surprise at her sister's good opinion couldn't be more tangible to him.

"Your cunning and ruthlessness took on a different form. You tried to seek out as much knowledge as you could about this world. You're cheerful and hardworking, trying to help as many people as possible. You're a good sister and you're very kind and responsible. A far cry from the little painting child we've known you as when you were younger."

She took a deep breath, unable to hide her curiosity.

"How did you survive?"

"Your dolls liked to experiment, apparently. One of them took my broken stem from that area and placed it inside eternal blessing. Although I was grateful for the second chance, I was a mess for a long time." His hand tightened into a fist and he dropped it to his side. Mary examined his face carefully. He looked so weary, it must be difficult to adjust to fifteen years within a month. "It was seriously surreal waking up to find you and Ib gone and I was all alone. And then she came back all grown up. You too."

Mary self-consciously tucked in a stray strand of hair behind her ear, cheeks burning in embarrassment. "I was surprised when I started to grow too."

"Miracles do happen huh?"

She noticed Ib looking away and her heart sank. "You must hate me now, don't you?"

"Well…"

"Ib already does."

"Of course not." Garry retracted himself as Ib stood up, walking towards her slowly. Her voice was quiet but her words weighed heavy. "You're assuming I don't want to talk to you. You're always assuming that I like this or I hate that, that I shouldn't do this or do that. Mum and dad said you were protective. You were just protecting yourself."

"I can't lie about that."

"You took care of me too carefully, even though you were supposed to be the sick one when we were younger." Ib took a deep breath and sighed, turning to look at the sunset, her voice becoming even softer. "I had no memory of having a sister before the day we went to Guertena's exhibition."

Mary's eyes widened. She recalled the early days when Ib was excruciatingly reserved around her. So she had known since the first day.

"I was scared and so confused. Why didn't my parents say anything? Why were you suddenly in my world? Mum and dad seemed exactly the same, everything was the same, except for the fact that you've apparently existed since the day I was born. You were so nice to me there was nothing I could do but accept it over time."

"Then why were you scared of me after Garry came back?"

"I was scared you were going to go berserk like the last time. That you would… hurt us."

"I'm so sorry," she barely whispered. "I thought you wouldn't forgive me. I thought you would hate me for lying to you in all these years, for unintentionally hurting Garry and taking his place in this world. I was scared you would abandon me. I thought you would reject me as a sister and a person, and say that I didn't deserve to exist—"

"Clearly, you still have much to learn about me." Ib rushed forward and hugged her tight. "I was scared of what you'd do to both me and Garry when I brought him back, if history would repeat itself. I was scared of having to abandon you."

"Ib…"

"I didn't have to worry after all."

Mary barely chocked back a sob.

"Besides." She gave her sister a warm, loving smile. "I saw your guilt and regret. I saw what you tried to do to return the happiness you've been given. Of course I wanted to see Garry again, but I had forgiven you a long time ago."

"What happened with the man with the jagged scar? What happened when you arrived back here?"

She hesitated when Garry took over. "He did a number on us, trying to make sure he came back with us. I didn't exactly want to leave him behind but… Ib's more important. He… well…"

The air hung thick with words unspoken. Ib shifted in Mary's arms, taking her hands in hers instead. "Everyone has demons, Mary, and skeletons… skeletons in their closet."

"When we came back outside, I needed to get help for Ib. She was half-conscious with the knock to her head—" Ib's hands tightened when Mary snarled at the piece of information, Garry stopping only briefly. "And I was bleeding, the guy had a knife. Walking in the middle of the street wasn't my best idea, I was almost run over by a car, but at least we're here now, safe and sound."

"At least… huh."

Ib let go of Mary and walked over to Garry, touching his arm in support. Mary couldn't help the twinge in her chest when he looked at her in that way before he turned his attention back to the nurse.

"Gardening huh? It kind of suits you."

She bit her lip and looked over at the noticeably thinner patch of rosemary flowers. She sighed. Garry walked back to the gazebo to retrieve something, but hid it behind his back before she could see.

"So, are we alright now or…?" Her self-confidence was plummeting fast since Ib left her side and Garry looked at her with his incomprehensible expression. "… Or is that too much to ask—"

"I haven't forgiven you completely."

She felt her world spin, but part of her expected this. Her eyes stayed rooted to the ground. It had been a fantasy to imagine that she could… Mary swallowed a lump down her throat. She didn't deserve happy endings.

"Not yet, at least." She looked up with surprise. "You took away fifteen years of my life, more if I had never escaped, and caused so much suffering for my family and friends.

"However, that… hell… it changes a person. I… don't blame you for what happened all those years ago, not anymore." He held up a rosemary flower in his free hand, gracing her with a soft smile. "Congratulations on your humanity and… thank you for respecting my memory. I hope with time, we can understand each other better."

"I…" Mary rubbed her eyes with the palm of her trembling hands, chin quivering. "Thank you."

AN: I'm not exactly sure how the Fabricated World changes the memory of the world but for once I won't deconstruct the magic simply because this story is a headache in itself. Deconstructing older human Mary is bad enough. I've wanted to write this for ages, and I'm glad I did! (It took ages too, I should have been studying orz) Please review if you liked it, didn't like or if you would like to share any other opinions (please do). Take care!