Hello everyone~
Lin here with a new fic up.
I wrote this last minute before I had to start school.
I don't know how long this fic is going to be.
It's a heterosexual fanfic, so I am taking a break from
my BL writing.
Please enjoy this lovely fic about Garry and Ib.
This fanfic is based on the Forgotten Portrait ending.
I hope you enjoy.
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN "IB" OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS. KOURI DOES.
I DO HOWEVER, OWN THIS FANFIC.

Dark silence. This is my world—nothing but black and blue shadows. The scent of roses is a comfort and I feel as though I'm sleeping in a cradle of vines. I'm at ease here but I always felt as if I was missing something. If I could open my eyes, what would I see? Then again, why would I want to wake up? I'm content as I am in this shadow filled dream. But, why do I feel so cold?

This soundless void is all I have, but every now and then, I hear a gentle voice from the abyss; a painfully warm and nostalgic voice that speaks of a promise—one that I have long forgotten. Every time I'm on the brink of remembering it, a low whisper tells me to forget and return to the dream. And as always, I obey it. I don't know who the whisper belongs to, but it's the closest thing to a friend I have.

"Who am I?" I wonder to myself as I continue to sleep.

"You are no one," the whisper says. "You are a forgotten memory locked away in this cold place."

"Forgotten…"

"Yes, but do not fear," it answers as I feel the vines protectively tighten around my body. "I am here and I will never forget you. So sleep. And forget of your worries."

The soft aroma of roses overtakes the senses and the once conscious mind recedes back into the darkness. The vines cradle the fragile existence into their artificial embrace. A ghostly hand strokes the individual's head till its curious thoughts no longer echo.

"Sleep and dream in this darkness," the deep whisper says as it moves its hand away. "When that child returns, you shall awaken. Till then, be at peace…Garry."

Chapter 1

welcome to the labyrinth of blue roses

Ib folded her handkerchief into her pocket before staring out the car window at the passing cityscape. Five years had passed since the Guertena art exhibit had visited Japan. She was only nine the last time it had come around and, from what she remembered, she enjoyed it. Seeing the odd abstract pieces brought her wonder and the traditional still-life paintings calmed her mind. There were gaps in her memory and whenever she thought about the exhibit she felt as if she was missing something. However, Ib blamed her lack of memory on her young age.

Her parents were avid art-goers so she had been to several art museums and exhibits in her years. But out of all the displays and artworks Ib had seen, Guertena's collection had left the biggest impression on her for some reason. When her parents had gotten word that Guertena's pieces would be back in town, Ib was eager to go.

Her parents were surprised when Ib had asked if she could come with them with such zeal. Ib was a quiet young girl and tended to bury herself in novels and art books. She was well behaved and would tag along with her parents if they requested to bring her along to their social gatherings. She was a young lady of high class and thus she behaved like one. She was sociable but was not entirely fond of large crowds and would rather choose to stay at home than go out. However, whenever she was alone, she found herself sitting in her room with a plate of macaroons and a cup of tea as she flipped through pages of art and text. The girl had gotten much better at reading and had developed a shared love for the arts like her parents. The books acted as an escape from her high-ended lifestyle and she felt as free as a bird whenever she looked through them.

Ib's art books had taken over a good portion of her room to the point one of her walls was covered with bookshelves. She took pride her in collection but amongst her vast library, there was one book that claimed her heart as her favorite. It was a Guertena art book. She had quite a few volumes based on his works but this particular one was special to her. It was not as thick as the others were but it was rare because it contained one of his last pieces—The Forgotten Portrait.

The portrait had a simple beauty to it and Ib felt a connection to the lonely image of the sleeping man. On her previous visit, she had only seen the painting for a few seconds before getting pulled away by her mother, so she was eager to view it once again. Whenever she was at home looking at the art book, she found herself staring at the page for several minutes, or even hours. The mysterious painting fascinated her but there were times it had brought her to tears. If she stared at it for too long, she would begin to cry without ever knowing why. It was painfully lonely but its serene beauty acted as a pacifier to her.

She felt other emotions as she looked at the other works of Guertena. Most filled her with curiosity and awe but there were a number that she found herself being terrified of. She had no idea why, but some images gave her chills and ominous auras. The Fabricated World and The Lady in Red were such pieces. Ib was not very fond of the paintings even though they were amongst his better known masterpieces. She recognized them as masterworks but they gave off bad vibes and the girl didn't want anything to do with them. Regardless of what others claimed as their favorites of Guertena's, Ib was adamant on her choice being The Forgotten Portrait.

"Ib, we're here," called her mother from the front seat.

Ib leaned her head against the glass to see the museum. Last time the exhibit was held in a much smaller museum so she was a bit taken back at the large building in front of her.

"They say it's his complete collection," spoke her father as if reading her mind. "Last time they exhibited only a portion of his works."

"Oh how wonderful!" chimed her mother. "Isn't that lovely, Ib? I know how much you love Guertena's works."

The young girl felt a pang of anticipation and she smiled brightly. "Yes," she answered as she pushed her long brown hair behind her ear. "I can hardly wait to see them in person again, mother."

As expected of the opening day to a rare art exhibit, the museum was packed with people. Ib hoped that the large pool of guests would disperse throughout the large museum's other collections. And to her relief, they did. But there were still quite a few people that were interested in seeing Guertena's exhibit. Her mother and father were smart enough to get their family tickets ahead of time so, lucky for them, they did not have to stand in line. As they entered into the gallery, Ib was handed a pamphlet that briefly described Guertena's artist background and style. All in all, Ib was already aware of most of the stated facts so she neatly carried the folded cardstock at her side as she walked with her parents.

The exhibition was in a large extended hall with three floors in total. Each room in the building was color coded to his evolving style's timeline. Ib's eyes widened in awe. She didn't know where to start. There was just so much to see. She turned to her parents with flushed cheeks and overly shimmering eyes.

"Mother, father," she said trying to hide her desire to run off. "I…May I…um…"

Her mother turned to her father and smiled back at Ib. "Ib, you're free to go off and explore but please stay in this complex, understand?" said her mother, "And make sure not to lose your handkerchief."

"Your mother and I will be taking the tour, are you sure you don't want to join us?" asked her father as he looked at his maturing daughter.

Ib nodded to her mother and smiled at her father. "Yes, father. I am very much familiar with Guertena's life works and I wish to see them with my own interpretation," she replied.

Her father sighed with a sad smile as he looked at his child. His beloved daughter was so mature for her age and it wouldn't be long till she'd fly away from the nest. He had to let her go some time in the future but as a father he wished that day would never come. He had difficultly on letting her be by herself or to let her go off with friends, which was why he had his wife.

Ib's mother gently rested her hand on her husband's arm as she nodded to Ib. "Be careful, love," she said sending her daughter off. Ib curtsied to her parents and trotted off towards one of the many rooms in the hall.

"She's growing up, isn't she?" her father muttered softly.

Her mother leaned her head against his shoulder. "Yes she is," she replied with a reassuring smile.

He rested a hand atop of his betrothed for comfort. "I don't like watching her back turn away from us," he said as Ib vanished into one of rooms. "But the one thing I fear is the day when a man will appear and take her away from me."

"You mean us," his wife said tapping him on the head with her pamphlet causing him to turn his attention to her. "Silly man," she said with a giggle. "When that time comes, that man will have to get your permission to take her. And I'll be right next to you, my dear. Do not forget that you did the same to my father when you took me away."

"Don't remind me," he said as he flushed two shades of red with a shudder. He looked back towards Ib's direction with a forlorn gaze, "Ib is a strong but fragile girl so, as her father, I can only hope she'll find a proper man who can take care of her in my place."

Ib's mother smiled as her gazed narrowed to looked on with him. "I'm sure she will. She is our daughter after all," she said, "But it might take a while since she's enamored with that particular painting."

"Indeed, if only she'd continue to be infatuated with it," he said forcing himself to turn away, "that way no one could take her from me."

His beloved blinked before letting out a small laugh. "You're such a doting father, dear," she said as the two walked into the nearest room. "What if that painting came to life? Would you say the same thing?"

"Please don't joke like that," he said turning white.

"Fufu, I'm kidding," she said as he escorted her into the room, "Now let's find us a tour guide."

Ib scurried about the exhibits with awe. It was a whole new world to her as she ventured about the various rooms. Some paintings brought back familiar memories and she couldn't help but to smile when she saw paintings she recognized.

"Lady with Her Umbrella," she said as she stepped in front of the painting. Despite its lonely content it made her feel warm inside. She smiled to herself as she observed the other paintings. "Serpent's Spirit," she said as she noticed the abstract piece. She closed her eyes and pondered aloud, "The year was…6248." After her educated guess, she leaned in closer to the name plate to confirm her answer and smiled with pride when she got it right.

"The Juggler, 6223" she continued, quizzing herself as she weaved her way through, and stopped to take in the artworks she didn't recognize. Being in a place surrounded by works she loved made her feel at home. When she had finished her rounds on the first floor she made her way to the second floor.

"She's here," a low voice echoed.

As she climbed the stairs she looked down below to see the large undersea painting, "Abyss of the Deep". It was a painting she had mixed feelings about. She didn't hate it, but it made her feel a bit nostalgic for some reason.

"It really is an amazing piece," she whispered to herself as she paused on the stairs to look at it. "But it's curious why I feel a sense of nostalgia from it."

Ib continued upward and stepped into a room filled with various sculptures. "Twinkling of Crystals and Stars," she named as she walked around the shimmering tree-like crystal sculpture. Seeing the three dimensional pieces in person really gave her a different perspective compared to the pictures of them in her books. The young teen slowly walked around them to take the pieces in as a whole.

She observed each one of the displays but her body froze when she found herself in front of "Death of the Individual". She quickly averted her eyes and made sure to walk along the far edge of the wall as if fearing they'd notice her and run after her. It was a stupid to fear a group of mannequins but Ib couldn't help herself. She did not understand why she felt uneasy around them but it was a similar feeling she had around the "Lady in Red" from downstairs. Ib hustled out of the room and found herself by the stairs to the third floor.

"The third floor," she said as she looked up the stairwell, "if I recall that's where that painting is." She placed a hand over her chest and took a deep breath as if she was preparing to meet a long lost friend. "Alright," she said as she opened her crimson eyes.

"You've come back," the soft voice whispered into her ear.

"Eh…?" Ib quickly turned her head to look behind her. Her eyes scanned the hall and saw no one in particular around. "Was it my imagination?" she mumbled to herself as she slowly began to walk up the flight of stairs.

Ib gradually made her way up to the third floor, taking care in each step she took. The third floor was much smaller than the other two as it only had one large room with a few dividers in the center. It was much less crowded than the first two floors, much to her liking, which allowed her look at the pieces without feeling rushed. She felt at peace as she made her way around the floor.

"Embodiment of Spirit," she said as she stepped up to the large sculpture of a rose. It was one of Guertena's sculptures that Ib fancied but, like most of his pieces that she liked, it made her sad. "You really are a magnificent work of art," she said.

"I'm over here," the voice echoed.

Ib turned away from the floral piece and looked around her. That voice again. She thought. It appeared that she was the only one that could hear the odd whisper, which made Ib feel a bit uncomfortable but the voice wasn't malevolent sounding. If anything, it was a very kind and smooth voice. But why did she feel as if she knew this voice from somewhere?

She shook off the voice once more and observed the sculpture before her and closed her eyes as she thought of all the pieces of art she had seen. "It'd be nice if I could stay here like this," she whispered to herself.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," the voice said in a hush.

The young girl looked around once more for the owner of the voice to no avail. Most of the people that were on the third floor were observing the red rose that was in full bloom. As she turned her attention back to the sculpture, Ib began to feel a dire need to locate a particular portrait. She had been eager to see it but a sudden rush of urgency came over her. She turned away from the masterpiece and began to move away from the crowd. She wasn't in a trance or anything, but her body was weaving her through the unknown room as if if knew exactly where her goal was. Her mind was at ease while her heart fluttered with anticipation. It was as if some unknown force was pulling her towards it.

Yet, as she got closer to the lone portrait, the air grew cold and the murmurs of people began to die down. However, Ib's conscious mind was far too lax to take notice. When she snapped from her daze, she was standing in front of the portrait that she had come this far to see. It was just like it was in her book, no, it was even lovelier in person. The sleeping man looked as if he was in such peace but, it really was a lonely image. The museum had even placed the painting on a wall by itself as if to emphasize its content. Ib smiled at the painting. "I finally get to see you again," she softly said.

"I've been waiting for you for so long," the whisper echoed.

Ib jumped and took a few steps backward as she looked around her for the source of the voice. "Who…said that?" she asked.

"You came back…I'm glad," it said.

Ib's heart stopped when she realized where the hushed whisper was coming from. Her head slowly turned back to the portrait. "…is it you?" she asked in a near whisper.

Just then, the man in the painting slowly began to open his eyes. His lifeless expression gently changed into a kind and gentle smile as he looked at her. Ib's eyes began to widen in shock but, strangely, she wasn't afraid of the man in the frame. He slowly raised his hand to her from within the canvas as if asking her to take it. Ib clenched her hand against her chest as she debated on whether or not to take it. She looked down at the floor as her mind tried to wrap itself around the current situation. Was her mind playing tricks on her? Or was this really happening?

The portrait's gaze softened as it gave her a patient smile. "Don't be afraid, Ib," it echoed without moving its lips.

Ib looked back up and suddenly felt tears welling up in her eyes. Confused, Ib brought her hands to her eyes and began to wipe away the droplets of water. Why am I crying? She thought to herself. But no matter what she did, the tears wouldn't stop. Why do I feel as if I'm forgetting something very important?

"Don't cry, Ib," the low voice said in a kind murmur. "Come, I'll wipe those tears away."

Ib looked back up at the portrait but found the man was gone and the vines of the roses were growing amok out of the frame. The girl let out a small gasp as the vines began to coil around her at an increasingly fast rate. Ib opened her mouth to call for help but the cold dark vines made her senses go numb. And just as she fell unconscious, she never felt more at peace.

"My dear child, forgive my selfishness. I only want to leave this world together with you," echoed the distant voice. "Fear not. I will guide you through the labyrinth, but only if you keep your promise."

The floor was cold, but not freezing. However, the darkness did send a chill down her spine. Ib was awoken when a rose petal fell on the tip of her nose. As she came to her senses, she found herself lying on a marble floor. She propped herself up to take in the scenery and realized she was in the middle of some sort of crystal dome. The ceiling was high and the rose vines had found their way all the way to the top. The "sunlight" was dimmed due to the dense cover of plants but the light scent of roses made the darkened room feel a bit brighter. The room was pretty much empty, save a rose covered casket and a small garden table and chair set in the middle of the room.

"Where am I?" Ib asked herself as she looked around the room. "And what was I doing just now?" she asked holding her head in her hand. Seeing how she wasn't going to get any answers by sitting on the floor she rose to her feet. There weren't any visible exits from what she saw and no one else was in the room. Or so she thought.

Intuition told her to turn around and she saw something shimmering on the table. Taking it as a clue, Ib walked over to the white table and saw a pair of roses sitting in a small glass vase. Ib stared at the blue and red roses and tried to gather up her thoughts. The last thing she remembered seeing was the gigantic rose sculpture back at the museum and the rest was a blank. She shook her head and turned to look about the spacious dome once more. In any case, she had to find a way out of here. But, something about the red rose charmed her.

Ib turned her attention back to the small red rose and lightly stroked it's petals with her finger. Small beads of dew slipped from its blossom and down the stem. It had lost a few petals but it was still a pretty little flower. Her scarlet gaze then shifted over to the blue rose. It was in full bloom and it looked as if it was protecting the smaller red one. She moved her hand away and gently took the red rose's stem into her hands. As she began to take the flower out of its resting place she heard a groan.

The sudden noise startled her and she let the rose fall back into the vase. The moan had come from behind the casket and she was hesitant to check. The girl stared at the rose covered alter-like object for a good few seconds. "Hello?" she chimed as she cautiously inched closer to it.

She swallowed hard as she leaned her head to the side keeping her distance as she rounded the casket's edges. However, she quickly hid behind the chair when a figure began to hobble up to its feet.

"Hn? Where…is this?" the figure said as it rubbed the back of its neck, "Ow, my neck is killing me…how long was I asleep, I wonder?"

Ib blinked as she peeked over the head of the chair. The figure in question appeared to be a man in his late teens with messy lavender hair. His long black tattered coat dropped a little below his knees as he rose to his feet. His gaze shifted around the dome in search for an exit. He didn't seem to be a bad person but he was a stranger. As Ib leaned forward to get a better look at him, the chair unexpectedly screeched at her weight.

The young man quickly turned his head towards the table, making causing Ib to duck in cover. "W-Who's there?" he called as his voice cracked, "I-Is someone in here?"

The girl slowly peeked out from the side and blinked at the man. Her voice silenced out of mild fear. The gentleman blinked back at her as he slowly crouched down to her eye level. His one visible eye eased up and he let out a soft sigh of relief. "Hello there," he said softly, "Don't be scared. I'm not anyone suspicious."

No, I'm plenty suspicious from her stand point. He thought to himself. But what's a little girl doing in here?

Ib slowly rose to her feet. "A-Are you, from the museum?" she asked.

The man blinked a few times. Museum? A sudden flash of images of the museum came to mind. "Oh, um, yes…I guess," he replied, "Are you?"

She nodded and took a few steps towards the man. Her eyes narrowed as she got closer to him. He looked familiar. "I don't know how I got here but when I woke up I…"

The man stood up and nodded. "Yeah, the same goes for me," he said as he slowly stepped towards her.

As Ib cautiously approached him, her eyes widened in shock as she recognized him as the man from the portrait. But how could thid be? Or more so, how could she have NOT have recognized him? Ib stood speechless as she gazed at the man. Seeing the sudden change of expression on her face the man paused in his steps.

"Huh? Um, young miss? I-Is something wrong?" He asked cocking his head at her. "Are you alri-"

"U-Um!"

The man jumped at her sudden outburst, "Y-Yes?!" And here he thought she was a quiet little thing.

Ib looked at him with desperate eyes that were filled with anxiety and curiosity. "W-What is your na-oh, I should introduce myself first. U-Um," she stuttered. She took a deep breath as she collected her nerves. She wasn't afraid of him but she couldn't stop shaking. "My name is Ib. W-What is your name?" she asked blinking at the lengthy young man.

"Ib"? Why does that name feel so familiar? He stared at her for a few seconds and smiled. "Nice to meet you Ib," he said, "My name is-" A sudden black void filled his mind and memory. "Huh…?"

The young girl didn't move but she knew something was wrong. Or rather, she knew what was wrong, considering the title of the painting.

Thoughts of the dark unknown filled the man's thoughts and he suddenly felt scared and alone. He begen to tremble as he looked down at his hand and brought it over his face, "Who…am I?"

And that was chapter 1.
It was alot shorter than my chapters for
"Captive to Captivate".
I don't know when I'll post next but I thank you all for reading.
Please R&R!
I enjoy reading your reviews and they help motivate me to write~
See you next time and enjoy the ride~
-Lin