I've watched Cry play Ib, and Markiplier, and I love the story. I really do. This is just a happy little family-esque AU. I don't own any of the characters from Ib; Kouri does. Enjoy, and please review!


Time had treated her very kindly. A 9-year-old Lolita had bloomed into an intoxicating 17-year-old who still had a penchant for short skirts and knee socks. Those red eyes had not changed, either. It didn't matter her real age; those eyes held knowledge he didn't think was possible to obtain.

And yet, here I sit, like a pervert, waiting for her, Garry thought disgustedly. When he and Ib – Eve, he corrected himself urgently; that was the name she preferred now – left Guertena's gallery, and the nightmare that had been Mary, he was quick to want to see her again. But whether she forgot on purpose, or she feigned ignorance to keep things legally proper, she didn't seem to care for Garry any longer.

For the past eight years, since the gallery, he was determined to keep her out of harm's way, no matter what it took. For eight years, Garry had been there for her, even when she didn't know it. She had helped guide him out of hell; it was only right that he could return the favor somehow.

She remembers. I know she remembers, he mused, watching the other teenagers file out of the front doors of the school. She would be one of the last ones. She always was.

Garry was correct: she was one of the last ones, but she wasn't alone. She was being dogged by a seemingly nice enough boy, but the look of annoyance on her face made Garry's blood start to boil. He swept through the trickling throng of students and slowly approached her and the nuisance of a boy.

"Eve, come on, just one time," the boy was begging, and she closed her eyes as though thinking. That was the Ib Garry knew: she wouldn't give the boy a direct answer, but when she did, it would be impactful. Sweeping her hair over her shoulders, and puckering her lips, she opened her mouth to speak.

"Whatever you want her to do, she's not going to do it," Garry said, before Ib could say a word. He stepped forward, and the boy panicked, taking in Garry's tall frame and intimidating face.

"Are you her brother? Or her boyfriend? Oh, God, I'm so sorry, man, I'll leave her alone, I promise!" With that, the boy turned tail and fled. Ib turned to Garry, her scarlet eyes flashing.

"What are you doing?" she demanded. "Who are you? That wasn't your fight. I had everything under control!" It was the most Garry had ever heard her say, and though he wouldn't admit it, it made his heart soar to hear her be more verbose.

"Ib," he said simply, and her eyes widened. "Ib, don't you remember me? Don't you remember the hell we went through together in the gallery…do you remember Mary?" At the suggestion of Mary, a look of dread came over Ib.

"Mary," she whispered. "A palette knife…and paintings wanting to be real…" Garry nodded.

"You got it. Do you need to go home right away?" Ib shook her head furiously, and Garry smiled. "Let's head down to the café on the corner, and we can get some macaroons. We can talk. Would that be okay?"

"Sure," allowed Ib. She paused, and asked, "How did you find me? How could you have known where I was?"

"Eve," he started, and she shook her head, tears brimming to her eyes.

"Call me Ib, Garry," and in that tone, he heard the 9-year-old he had gone to hell and back with. In that moment, she was the little girl he knew so well. Garry shrugged out of his tattered coat and draped it over Ib's shoulders. Though time had passed, and she had grown, she was still significantly shorter than him. In the cooler autumn days, he didn't trust her skimpy choice of clothes to keep her comfortable.

"Garry?" Ib asked, and he looked down at her. "Can you hold my hand? For old times' sake?" Garry could not suppress a smile, and he silently took her hand.

Gently rubbing his thumb and forefinger against the back of her hand, he said, "I'll never leave again. I promise." Ib leaned her head against Garry's shoulder, and she felt the most at peace she had been in years.

"Are you sure this is okay, Ib?" Garry asked nervously, occasionally throwing glances to see if anyone was disturbed by their show of sibling-like affection.

"It's perfectly fine," Ib said dreamily. "This is what I've been missing." Truly, that was all she had ever wanted. Garry, too, had that void, and it was filled now. Silently, hand in hand, they walked to Garry's favorite café on the corner, and just as he had promised all those years ago, they ate macaroons and told stories until the sun set and the sky resembled one of Guertena's canvases.