Disclaimer: Ib belongs to Kouri.

Promises, Broken and New

It wasn't supposed to turn out this way…

"Um…Ib? Sorry, but…could you go ahead?"

Garry had known that that little blonde would run off like that. So why hadn't he chased after her to retrieve it?

"I'm…uh…I'm sorry…I don't really know what to say."

He could hardly look the little girl before him in the eye, too worried that he might upset her.

"…I don't want to lie to you…"

He didn't really want her to leave him there in Mary's sketchbook.

"But I…don't want to tell the truth either…"

But he couldn't just leave her stranded in the painted world.

Forcing a pained smile, he tried to reassure Ib. She stared back at him with evident worry etched into her face. The girl's normally bright crimson eyes had begun to form tears, her eyebrows had furrowed under her dark brown hair. Garry didn't like that expression, and it made him sad to see her like this. But mingled with concern was doubt.

Garry cursed mentally. He knew she was an intelligent and watchful girl, that Ib, but why now of all times? He needed to reassure her again, to allow her to escape, even if he could no longer.

"…If you need help…I'll come running…"

"Will you promise?"

Garry quickly faced Ib with confusion written all over his face. Ib held out her pinky, gazing expectantly at Garry.

"Huh?"

"Promise me…you'll come?"

She knew, Garry realized. They both knew he was dying, even if neither cared to admit it. She knew that. Managing a weak smile, Garry shakily raised his larger hand to hers, his own pinky held out. He intertwined it with hers, and he could tell she'd noticed how much his hand was shaking.

"Promise…Now go…I'll catch up with you soon…Ib."

With a short nod, Ib ran off along the Sketchbook's black path and up the stairway in the distance, her hair flowing behind her. Garry smiled ruefully. Ib would escape. She was a smart kid – she could do it. But his thoughts soon turned to Mary.

Where had she gone?

Would she attack Ib?

…

No, she wouldn't, Garry decided. Even if the painted girl had it out for him, he had seen how attached to Ib Mary was. She wouldn't hurt Ib, the girl whom she wanted as a sister, a friend. It was strange, he now thought, that he felt no malice towards the girl. All she had wanted was to be real and have friends. But he, Garry, had gotten in her way. Or so he thought. He just couldn't bring himself to hate someone so pitiful.

But damn…he didn't want his last sight to be the nightmarish abyss of a ground. So with the last of his strength, Garry pushed himself up but quickly stumbled back into the white chalk railing of the path. Breathing heavily, his eyesight began to dim, yet his clouded mind continued to rush.

This is it.

Has Ib escaped yet?

I wonder what will await me…

He could feel it coming, that engulfing wave of sleepiness. It would overtake him, though he wouldn't mind. He would finally be able to rest after that terrible ordeal.

Sleep…yes, that sounded good right about…now.

And with that this last breath he took, he realized something.

"Sorry…Ib…It would seem I can't…keep our…promise…"

She had failed him.

"Loves me."

A feeling of utter hopelessness and defeat consumed her. All as Ib watched the painted girl daintily pluck petal after blue petal from Garry's rose.

"Loves me not."

With each snap! of the flower, she felt something inside of her die. It was a horrible sight, yet she couldn't bear to look away. Blue petal floated lifelessly to the floor, scattering around Mary's feet.

Then, it was over.

"LOVES me! Ahah! Yay…! Now I can…!"

Blue covered the black room with crayon walls and serrated vines of hand drawn roses. Blue. His blue. Garry.

Ib understand that the roses were connected to their lives. She'd known from the very beginning, even if she didn't understand the reasons. Moreover, acknowledging the fact may have well destroyed whatever sanity she would have left.

Torn blue petals.

What state would Garry be in? Ib didn't want to know.

She watched with silent streams of tears as Mary gleefully ran the room. Hopeless. Defeated. It was strange, really, how Ib had so easily come to trust Garry in the haunted gallery. They were complete strangers, but they'd become like brother in sister in such a short time. He'd protected her from danger, comforting her after her nightmare.

Now Garry was gone.

What point would there be in returning to her world?

Ib wanted to be with Garry. No, she had to. She thought of him, waiting alone and lonely back in that corridor. Her heart sank. Spinning on her heels, Ib ran and ran back to the spot where'd she'd left Garry. Her red eyes widened with hope when she saw his figure propped up against the wall.

But that hope quickly came crashing down heavily onto her heart.

Garry made no movement whatsoever. He just sat there motionless, one leg bent and his arms at his sides. His skin was so deathly pale; his eyes were shut but not shut tightly. It was almost as though Garry were sleeping. No…more like…a doll.

Ib fell to her knees.

"G-Garry?"

There was no answer.

She stayed there, frozen with horror at the sight, unable to even think. Tears came freely now as she crawled over so slowly to her Garry. She put her head on his chest, hoping that, just maybe, she could hear a faint heartbeat. To no such luck.

It was hopeless.

Garry wasn't coming back.

Mary had seen to that.

There was no reason for her to continue, she believed. Garry had become her light, but shadows always followed light and consumed it completely. And so too had Garry. Ib didn't even see reason to follow Mary. If the girl had escaped, she'd escaped.

Hands trembling, Ib clasped her red rose oh so gently. She had five petals remaining. Garry had made sure the water went to her flower and not his own. She bit her lip and held out two fingers.

"I love him…"

Soft crimson floated gently to the ground; Ib clenched her eyes shut as pain wracked through her.

"I love him not…"

The pain…it pierced through her chest like an arrow. But she knew she couldn't stop now, not when she'd already begun.

"I love him…"

Her vision blurred, and Ib nearly collapsed. She was growing sleepy. Maybe I'll meet Garry in our dreams, she thought wistfully.

"I love him not…"

Ib fell to the ground this time, but her grip on the rose remained. She felt numb, but she had only one petal left before she met up with Garry.

"I…I…"

Ib apologized silently to her parents, who would never see her again. She apologized to Garry, that she gave up the chance he had given her. Her final thoughts swam around a sign she had seen earlier, one that she'd asked Garry to read to her. Perhaps this was what it meant.

Her hand fell limp before she could finish; her eyes slowly dimmed and shut out the light they'd held before.

When the rose rots, so too will you rot away.

Ib was dead.

Garry was dead.

Marry watched from behind the corner of the corner of the corridor with quaking fury and horror. No! This was not how it was supposed to happen. Ib wasn't supposed to die! She and Mary were supposed to make it out of the Gallery together and be best friends and do everything together! She didn't want this!

No! No no no no nonononononononononoNO!

This was all that Garry's fault! Because of him, Ib had died! If he had only stayed put, lost his mind in the doll room, none of this would've happened!

But that's not entirely true, a small part of her mind whispered. You are to blame as well.

"No! This isn't my fault! It's not!"

You killed them, Mary.

"I didn't!"

Don't deny it.

She fell to her knees sobbing, gripping the edge of her dress. Her hair splayed across her back and even to the ground, and tears stained her emerald dress, but Mary was too much in despair to notice.

"It's not…my fault!"

The voice didn't answer this time, Mary vaguely realized. Something quietly dropped to the ground beside her then. Yellow. Her rose. For a long moment, she just stared at it. Then, her tear-stained blue eyes blazed with ferocity.

Mary rose quickly and slammed her shoe down onto the yellow over and over.

"This is all your fault!"

The yellow crumpled, but said nothing.

"If only you'd been real!"

There was little yellow left now, just the silhouette of a bloom and a bent stem. Mary took a step away but stumbled, collapsing to the ground, disoriented.

"If only I had been real…"

Mary turned to the face of Ib and Garry once more. They look so peaceful together, resting there as though they were merely asleep. Mary, however, could never belong to that peace. She noticed how tightly clenched the red-eyed girl's grip was to Garry's tattered coat, now resting still in the silence. The man himself smiled softly in his long sleep, almost as he had when reassuring them in life.

Garry…

What exactly was it about him that caused Mary to hate the man so much? Mary didn't know. All the man had done was protect her and Ib. He had even tried to befriend her. Yet she had torn apart his rose in jealousy of the relationship between him and Ib.

Mary realized now that her accusations meant nothing. And surprisingly, she didn't mind that she was wrong. There were no more emotions to hold, no happiness, no fury, no madness, just a hollow feeling.

And with that awareness, Mary threw herself at the two sleeping friends, pleading silently for them to forgive her. Seeing their wilting stems lying beside them, Mary snatched them up and a petal from each. Before she knew it, she tentatively pressed the red to the tip of the stem as though it would somehow reattach. But as she moved her hand away, the plush red flew to the ground lifelessly. She reached for it one more, her hand even more shaky than before.

Suddenly, a bright flash of light blinded the area, and Mary covered her eyes with an arm. As it died down, she slowly removed her arm and stared at the dead flower she held. Her eyes widened into great saucers.

A single crimson petal hung limply but alive from the stem of Ib's rose.

Steady intakes of breath drew Mary's attention to the figure of Ib then, and Mary noticed with growing confusion and joy that Ib's chest moved slowly up and down. Ib was breathing. Mary looked back and forth between the rose and Ib rapidly.

The rose had healed itself, and Ib had come back to life. How was that possible?! Everything Mary knew was truth – that paintings couldn't exist outside of the Gallery; that the rose represented one's life; that once a rose died, the person connected to the rose also die – all went up in flames. Nothing made sense anymore. But then, when had it?

In a flash, Mary guided a blue petal to Garry's rose stem. For a moment, nothing happened, and Mary wondered if Ib's rose healing had been a coincidence. But then, the petal slowly melded to the rose tip, gradually glowing just slightly with life.

Mary had no idea how this was possible, but she also wasn't one to question an obvious blessing.

But as she reached for the remaining petals, an abrupt gust of wind rushed by, taking up the red and blue and whisking them away. Dropping the stems, Mary reached after the escaping petals.

"Wait, no; come back!"

But they soon disappeared into the distance shrouded by inky blackness. She began to run for them, but then glanced back at Ib and Garry. She couldn't just leave them there exposed. Whatever had caused the wind may be after them as well. And Mary surely was not going to let her friends. But, oh, she would find those petals, maybe not right away, maybe not even for a few years, but Mary would revive them.

"I'll watch over you, forever and ever."

A/N: So I've gotten really into with the game Ib, its fanfiction, and fanart, so I decided to write my own. I'd heard about the game a while ago, but I never really got into it until I watched some LP's. Hopefully I wrote the characters correctly. Soul Eater characters will appear in the next chapter.

Please review to tell me how this is and thanks for reading.