A/N: I got this idea after I finished Ib for the millionth time. Enjoy! Italics means flashbacks

Ib took the Rose from the vase, marveling at how it felt in her hands... how it seemed to be tied to her by millions of little strings. Whatever happened to this Rose affected her. Should it lose a petal, she would begin to weaken and feel pain. And as she held the Rose, she heard a voice. It was faint... ever so faint. She stopped, looking about, and she shrugged, putting the Rose safely in her pocket and entering the nearest doorway.

A single painting adorned the wall - a woman with grey hair smiling merrily, her eyes closed. One the ground in front of her was a pretty blue key. Ib stepped forward cautiously, taking the key up and examining it. Up this close, the key appeared even prettier, and she pocketed it to use later. Glancing up, she gasped aloud at the picture. The woman's expression had changed - her eyes were looking to her left and her tongue hung out of her mouth. Ib heard the voice again, and she shook her head in fear, turning and fleeing.

The door clanged shut behind her loudly as she stepped into the hall, fear causing her to be breathless momentarily. Her eyes shut tightly when she heard the whisper again, this time louder. "Thief."

Ib froze, holding the front of her dress. She glanced down the corridor, seeing something glinting on the floor. As she walked, she noticed the letters on the wall had changed. They now spelled T-H-I-E-F. She was shivering hard now, and almost stepped on whatever was on the floor. Her eyes widened as she heard three loud taps, and the letters appeared on the floor.

THIEF.

Ib vaulted upright from her bed, breathing in deeply. She held a hand to her chest, trying to calm herself down as she could feel beads of sweat rolling down her temples. She'd had that dream again... just like she'd had it many times that night. She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and resting her head on her kneecaps, taking deep breaths. Ib needed to calm herself down... she wasn't sure how, but she had to.

Getting out of bed, she found her apron and made her way to her tiny studio, flicking on the light as she went in. She pulled the white sheet that covered her easel off, setting it nearby, and stepping back to take a look at her latest creation. It was still a work in progress, a long way off being completed, but she was glad. Painting took her mind off a lot of things - including her nightmares.

This piece was one of her treasured handkerchief from many years ago, still dotted with the blood that had come from Garry's hand when he'd accidentally gotten injured... Ib had a title in mind, but decided she would properly think about one when it was complete. Picking up her easel, she began to paint, the strokes and sweeps coming to her as naturally as breathing.

Ib wiped her forehead, accidentally smearing white paint across her skin. She ignored it, though, as she selected a different brush and dipped it in the black paint. Her tongue stuck out a little as she worked, barely stopping to even check the time. She had barely even noticed that sun had risen when she heard an insistent knocking at her front door, waking her from her zone.

Blinking, Ib stepped back to admire her work. It was still no where near done, but she had made significant progress. Putting the easel and brush down, Ib took off her apron and hung it on a hook behind the studio door before heading out and to the front door, checking the peep hole to see who it was. Standing outside with her familiar electric blue hair and black leather jacket was Ib's best friend, Kara, who was holding up a bag.

"Ib? Are you in? I brought some bagels!" she called out, and Ib opened the door. Kara smiled widely, stepping into the apartment. "You've been up painting again?" she asked, walking through Ib's apartment to the kitchen, where she sat the bag on the bench. Ib closed the front door and joined Kara, accepting a bagel Kara passed to her. She nodded.

"Yeah... I'm been having nightmares again," she said quietly, picking at her bagel a little. Kara sat at one of the chairs at the bench, taking a bite of bagel, and waited for Ib to continue. Ib took a deep breath. "Kara... do you think I take too much inspiration for Weiss Guertana?" she asked, and Kara stopped munching. "Is it too much that it can be classed as plagiarism?"

Kara began chewing again as she thought of her answer. "Well... you aren't copying directly, and you really have a personal style that isn't like Guertana's," she said slowly, taking another bite of her bagel. Ib nodded along with her words, trying to calm her beating heart. "If you were copying, critics would say, and you would be accused of stealing," she reasoned sensibly.

Ib nodded, hoping sincerely that Kara was right. But she couldn't shake the image in her mind of those red letters spelling THIEF. Kara didn't know about this; she just continued eating. She knew Ib enough not to press her about it; Ib would eventually just shut off and pretend there was nothing wrong. Only Garry could convince her to tell all.

Kara finished her bagel and pulled out a coffee cup, taking a sip. "Are you still working on that piece - the one with the handkerchief?" she asked, and Ib nodded, motioning for Kara to follow her as she left the room and headed to her studio. She opened the curtains in the studio so the sunlight could shine on the easel, and Kara nodded in appreciation.

"Nice," she said with a smile. "I think this is one of your best yet!" she declared, and Ib laughed.

"No, it can't be," she disagreed, shaking her head. "I don't know what will be my best yet... but I will get there one day."

Kara hesitated for a few moments. She seemed almost about to say something, but closed her mouth as Ib cleaned up her easel a little, putting paintbrushes in cups of water and making sure the paint palette wasn't leaning. Ib turned back to Kara, wiping her hands on a dishcloth.

"Kara?" Ib said, snapping Kara out of her thoughts. "Are you ok?"

Jumping a little, Kara looked up at Ib, who was gazing at her curiously. Quickly, Kara shook her head.

"No... it's all fine, Ib," she said reassuringly, smiling. She checked her watch, her eyes widening. "Ib, I'm so sorry, but I have to go! If you need me though, call me and I will come back!" she told Ib quickly, handing Ib her coffee cup and flying out of the room. "Bye, Ib!"

Ib was a little surprised by Kara's sudden departure, but she didn't say anything. She just waved goodbye to her friend, gazing at the coffee cup in her head. It was still pretty full, and Ib wasn't a huge fan of coffee. Usually, Garry drank all the coffee. But Garry wasn't here now... much to Ib's disappointment. Shrugging off her disappointment, she set the coffee cup on the window sill and turned back to her painting.

Only to leap away from the painting, shrieking in fear. Her back hit the wall, and she stayed there, staring at the painting, her whole body shaking. Gradually, she slid to the floor, her knees up to her chest, and she covered her eyes, shaking her head. "No," she whispered. "No, no, no, no..."

When Ib peeked through her hands to see if it was still there, it was. The red paint... that same writing that she had seen so many years ago...

THIEF.

Hours later, as the sun was setting, she heard someone knocking on the front door, calling out. Ib didn't move; she remained where she had managed to stumble to her bedroom, hours before, and curled up in the middle of her bed in a fetal position. That same image remained in her head, and she continuously wiped tears away. Her blanket was soon soaked, and she ignored all around her.

The knocking became insistent, and she recognised the voice that called out. "Ib! Ib, are you in there?" Garry called out, and Ib did not answer. She tried to, but no sound came out her mouth, so she just rested her head back on her blanket and covered her eyes. There was silence for a few moments, following by the sound of the lock, and the door handle turning.

Garry's footsteps entered the house. Ib didn't move still as she heard him moving about, opening doors and shutting them again, all the while calling out her name. He finally arrived at the bedroom, peeking in to find Ib. Her hand was still pressed against her face, her eyes shut, and Garry let out a yell of surprise, crossing the room and kneeling beside Ib's bed.

"Ib! Ib, are alright? What happened? You weren't answering your phone... Oh, dear," Garry mumbled, and finally managed to pry Ib's hand away from her face. Her crimson eyes stared at him.

She lifted her hand. Garry stiffened up as she rested her hand on his cheek. He was here. Garry was here. He was real as well, she felt his skin beneath her fingertips. Those familiar purple locks and violet eyes. He gazed at her with concern, waiting for her to speak.

"On the easel," she whispered, nodding at the door. Garry turned his head slightly in the direction of the studio, giving Ib a questioning look. She nodded again. "In the studio... check the easel..." Garry nodded, standing and walking out of the room. She waited for him, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart that had started up when Garry had appeared. While he was gone, it would give her time to compose herself.

Silence followed Garry until he opened the studio door. Ib waited, clutching her arms as she waited, and the time seemed to tick on. After a few minutes, and the studio door closed and Garry walked back in, shaking his head slightly.

"What's the matter? It looks fine," he told her, sitting next to Ib. bed and taking her hand. "I just covered up your easel after making sure the paint was dry."

Ib didn't answer. Had she imagined the red paint? Possibly... she was getting a lot less sleep than she normally would. Perhaps she was sleep deprived... but it had looked so real. So like the one she had seen so long ago... She shook her head slightly, burying her face in her blanket.

Garry shook her. "Hey, Ib, are you ok? Did you see something that I overlooked?" he asked, and Ib shook her head. She couldn't believe that she wasn't telling Garry about this, usually he was the first to believe anything crazy or weird. Sometimes, he was the only one who believed in something crazy or weird. After being chased everywhere by women who leaped out of paintings, Ib couldn't blame him.

But now... she couldn't say it. So, she just shook her head and whispered, "Nothing. It's nothing. It was a spider."

Garry didn't push her. He wanted to, but Ib might just get upset with him. Instead, he said, "Do you want to go get something for dinner? A new Chinese place opened down the road - apparently it's pretty good. Do you want to get something there?" With her face still in the blankets, Ib nodded. Garry chuckled, patting her head.

"Okay. I'll go wait in the loungeroom while you change," he told her, patting her head once more before getting up and heading into the loungeroom. Ib remained where she was, face still hidden, but it wasn't from fear anymore.

It was because she blushing crazily at Garry's dinner idea.