Okay, this is my first Fanfiction for this fandom, so I'm really hoping it works out! I absolutely LOVE Ib, the storyline, the characters, the various endings. It is so well done! Anyway, back to the story. This chapter is pretty short, but I promise the others will be longer! I don't own anything, although I wish I did… yeah… anyway, please enjoy!

Ib frowned up at the painting. It wasn't the most exciting painting she had ever seen, and the sight of it didn't dig up emotions, happy or sad, but for some reason it just bothered her. She didn't know why. It was just a painted man, propped up against a wall, in a deep, deep sleep, a withered rose stem in his hand, blue petals scattered around him. Perfectly harmless. So why did it bother her so much? Ib felt as if she should be mourning the sleeping man, crying as she held his limp hand. Ib suddenly found herself blinking back tears; she reached up and roughly wiped them away, telling herself to get a grip. It was just a freaking painting.

"Ib, honey? Your father and I will be over in this gallery over here, okay?" Ib turned to see her mother standing slightly behind her. Her mother peered closer and a frown appeared on her smooth face.

"Are you okay, hon? You look like you've been crying." Ib forced a smile.

"I'm fine, mom, just some dust." She hastily reassured her. Her mom still looked slightly suspicious but shrugged.

"If you say so." Her mother shrugged, gripping Ib's father's hand tightly and pulling him into the next gallery. Ib turned back to the painting, frowning. She felt like she should know the man's name, it was on the tip of her tongue. Ib stepped closer to the painting, running her fingers lightly over the rose stem. What was it about this painting? Ib glanced at the ground in deep thought.

Suddenly an image flashed through her mind: a blonde girl holding a knife, advancing slowly, an odd look on her flawless face. A man-the man in the painting-running up a flight of stairs, pushing the blonde girl away, turning back to Ib, asking her something she couldn't hear, saw herself running forwards and enveloping him in a tight hug. He hugged her back and suddenly Ib was back in the art gallery, in the present, staring at the painting, her eyes wide. Garry.

As the name crossed her mind, a floodgate opened and memories poured out, images flashing behind her eyes. A perfect, deep red rose clutched in her hand, running down a corridor, the man in the portrait-Garry- sprawled on the floor, a withered blue rose near him. She saw herself dipping the rose in water, saw the health flooding back into Garry's cheeks, saw a little blonde girl asking them something, the blonde girl holding a knife, Garry exchanging his blue rose for the red one that the blonde girl now held in her fists. And finally, she saw Garry, slumped against the wall, an exact replica of the painting.

Ib's eyes flew open and she gasped, staggering back from the painting as if it were on fire. She felt coolness on her cheeks, and to her surprise, she found that she was crying. She remembered. Garry…Garry was still in the other art museum, the one that was haunted with dolls that watched your every move, paintings that crawled towards you along the cracked floor and arms that grabbed at you from the walls. Ib slowly sank to the ground, shivering and hugging herself as tears ran down her cheeks.

"Garry…I forgot. How could I forget? Garry, I'm so, so sorry. Garry…" She whispered, not even trying to control the shudders that wracked her slim body. Several people in the gallery looked at her with disdain and subtly moved farther away, none wanting to get near the crazy girl sobbing on the floor.

Eventually, Ib picked herself off the floor and glanced once more at the painting, nearly bursting into tears again, but she steeled her nerves. She was going back for Garry. Ib gently touched Garry's hand, imagining that she could feel the warmth, see the comforting smile that Garry would no doubt be giving her. Garry had been a brother to her. He had always taken care of her, comforted her…and in the end, gave up his freedom for her. Now it was time for her to do the same. Ib smiled through the tears.

"I'm coming, Garry."

Please, please, please, PLEASE review, I would really appreciate it, even if it IS criticism. Yeah, other than that I don't really have much to say so…yeah. PLEASE REVIEW!