A/N: an alternate ending to the game 'Ib' based around a possible answer to the question Mary will ask the eponymous character if they're on the way to getting the good ending(s). Probably done a million times, but here's my version anyway. I don't own Ib or any content related to it – this is just for fun.
Ib and Garry sighed in relief as the heavy, waxy door to the toy box slammed shut behind them, panting and trying to quickly regain their breath before heading down the dark corridor before them.
"I have… had enough of dolls today!" Garry panted out as he stood, wiping sweat from his forehead onto his sleeve. "Do you feel ready to go, Ib?" he asked, extending a hand for the younger girl who first nodded in response, and took his hand in hers without question. The corridor held no surprises, refreshingly; no falling guillotine blades, bleeding mannequin heads or groping hands to speak of.
The stairs at the end of the corridor lead back to the house Ib and Garry had fallen – or more accurately, where pushed – from, but the room had changed: the white walls were now smeared in black crayon, the toy box replaced with a drawn pink staircase, guarded by a formidable wall of yellow roses and thorny vines, again drawn in bold crayon. Ib came to a stop as Garry began to walk toward the vines, making the older pause and look back at her.
"Ib- are you alright? I think we should check this room before we leave – it looks important."
But Ib held her ground, not budging from the spot.
"No, we should leave now – we have the key, why stay here and risk running into Mary again?" Ib asked, pleading with her large crimson orbs. There was something about the wall of roses that told Ib nothing but trouble awaited them if they entered – she was determined not to go. After a few seconds silence, Garry nodded in understanding at Ib's apprehension, and the two quickly left the small house.
The door to the pink building creaked like a stereotypical B-Horror movie as it opened slowly – as if from infrequent use – and the two figures slipped inside. The room was garish pink, matching the exterior, and held only one point of interest: a staircase, leading down into inky darkness.
"Even further down, I guess," Garry sighed. He was concerned; so far, all he and Ib had done was go down, deeper and deeper into this surreal maze. Who's to say this was the right way to go? What if all that greeted them at the end of this descent was an empty room, or even worse, a room of dol- No! Not thinking about them again! Garry quickly pushed unsettling scenarios of hopelessness and inescapable terror to the back of his mind, reminding himself to be positive for his companion's sake, and hoping his brief turmoil hadn't shown on his face.
It had. Ib had taken the older man's dilemma into account as they descended into the darkness – arms tightly linked – but tried not to let it bother her. She already had pressing thoughts on her mind: what about Mary? She had all but disappeared after pushing Garry and her into the toy box – so where would she appear next? And how would she react when she saw them?
Despite her actions, Ib felt regretful for leaving Mary behind – the other girl's endless energy had been comforting for the short time they'd been together, and Ib was beginning to realise what she must have been through. Being in this sinister gallery for the short time they had had been bad enough, but living here permanently? It must have been unbearable. The nine-year-old tried to dismiss her growing worry and pity, trying to stay positive – as to not worry the clearly troubled man at her side.
The staircase seemed to go on for eternity, but eventually they came to level ground. At the bottom, the two found not complete darkness as they'd feared, but instead a charcoal-walled room that looked awfully familiar.
"Wait- is this… the gallery?" Garry wondered aloud. It looked like the foyer of the gallery – reception desk, two windows, and poster featuring Abyss of the Deep – only with blackened walls.
Immediately, the two had their hopes somewhat dampened when they saw nothing but pitch black out the nearby window.
"Not quite home yet," Garry relented, "but we should press on – this seems promising."
The girl named Ib and the man named Garry wondered around the parallel gallery, realising that it was exactly the same as the real life counterpart, all exhibits present: Abyss of the Deep, Embodiment of Spirit, The Lady in Red (they'd kept their distance, just in case) – but they only truly stopped in front of the final exhibit they saw.
It was a gigantic canvas, spanning the length of the corridor and reaching the ceiling high above. It was almost a summary of the other works Guertena had produced – all gathered into a single space. Ib remembered this one well. It was the painting whose title she'd been trying to discern when the gallery had gone silent and the lights went out. Well, at least she didn't have that problem this time:
"You don't understand the title? It's called Fabricated World," Garry took a moment to read the inscription beneath the title, a slight frown adorning his face as he finished. "I wonder what this is supposed to mean? …!"
Garry and Ib were blinded as the canvas suddenly lit up, the frame disintegrating in the white rays. Looking up again, Ib saw that the painting remained where it was, only now it shimmered lightly, like it lay beneath water, and a classical piece of music drifted lazily from behind it – the ambient music played inside the gallery. Instantaneously, they both knew what it was. It was an exit. It was their escape.
Garry and Ib shared a look; mutual realisation, joy and triumph flashed across eyes crimson and indigo as the two intertwined fingers and turned back to the shimmering wall before them.
"IB! GARRY!" In a flash of metal, green material and yellow hair, Mary appeared before the two, panting and shakily holding her palette knife towards them, the blade glinting murderously as she locked eyes with Ib. "W-Why, Ib? Why would you do this? I thought we were going to leave together! You!" She snapped her head to Garry. "If you had been good and waited with my friends, Ib and I would have escaped together by now!"
Mary's grip on the knife handle tightened, knuckles going white, as her eyes darkened and she bared her teeth in an enraged snarl. Ib knew exactly what Mary was about to do- as the blonde girl lurched forward with the knife, ready to strike at Garry's heart, Ib threw herself to the side, coming protectively in front of the man. In the split second she had left, Ib hoped it would be quick.
But the knife never came. Opening her eyes, Ib saw the metal blade, tip pressed flush against her neck. She didn't dare breathe.
Slowly, Mary's eyes clouded over; rage, confusion, betrayal. Burning tears found their way out of the azure orbs, the girl's face contorting to one of utter hurt.
"B-but Ib… I thought… We promised! When we were together, you promised we'd leave together! Only two of us can go, and you said it'd be us!" Both Ib and Garry stilled at this, Garry from a tiny yet scorching prick of betrayal in his chest, and Ib from her sudden realisation.
"Uh… Ib, I have to ask you one more thing," the blonde said with slight hesitance, stopping a few paces behind the brunette, her eyes plastered to the floor. "If only two of us could leave this place, who would you choose?"
Ib's mouth went dry at the question. It was odd – if slightly morbid – but she decided to go along with it, since this kind of question fit in with Mary's odd personality anyway. She thought back on the time she'd spent with Garry, remembering his warm hand over hers as they walked, the kindness he'd displayed and the comfort his goofy cowardice had given her, but also thought of the girl before her. They'd only met mere minutes ago, but Ib felt something when she was with this eccentric, hyperactive girl. She felt a bond underlying, similar to the one she and Garry shared, and found herself drawing a blank. There wasn't an easy answer to this question, but Ib found Mary's eyes begging an immediate answer and somewhat pleading(?), so she decided to comfort her new companion:
"I'd leave with you, Mary."
Immediately, the blonde's eyes brightened (if it were possible they could be any brighter) as she pulled Ib into a tight embrace, "Ooh, I'm so glad!" She pulled back, revealing a grin reaching ear to ear, "I'd leave with you too."
Mary took Ib's hands in her own and closed her eyes as she opened her mouth:
"It's a promise!"
Ib's heart sank to her stomach as she saw the tears trailing down Mary's milky cheeks and felt the tenseness of Garry just behind her, realising the situation she had inadvertently created. Her mind raced as she tried to find some sort of solution, some way she could save her companions until it fully dawned on her: she had to choose.
There was no way around it… She could only leave with one of the people she cared for so much – the other left behind to be forgotten. But how could Ib choose? How could she choose between the warm, gentle man to her back and the devastated girl before her?
"If only two of us could leave this place, who would you choose?"
The question ran through Ib's mind a final time as her true answer, the original answer she'd quickly dismissed in favour of comforting Mary appeared, hitting like a lightning bolt.
I can't choose.
Ib, in a movement faster than she thought she could manage, pulled Mary into her tightest embrace, the arm holding the knife going limp at the action. Ib felt warm tears gracing her own cheeks as she buried her face into Mary's golden hair, inhaling deeply.
"Ib?" Garry stood dumbstruck as Ib held the painted girl on the spot with her embrace, and noticed her arms moving, her left moving towards her right, which held her red rose…
"Mary, I'm sorry I can't keep our promise,"
"I-Ib?!" Mary spluttered in confusion, but she was cut off:
"… I have to stay here."
SNAP. A pained cry. Mary didn't have time to react as she felt herself being propelled backwards, a white light enveloped her, and she saw no more.
Garry watched in horror as Mary disappeared through the shimmering canvas and a rose stalk fell to the ground, several red petals showering down after it. Before his mind had processed what had happened properly, he was at Ib's side, as she turned herself to face him and he saw the red stain spreading rapidly across the her white blouse, centred over her heart.
As Garry approached, Ib gathered her very last ounce of strength and threw a thin shaky leg across Garry's ankles, using an elbow to propel him forward, the man only having a second to yell her name before he fell through into whiteness. Ib staggered to the opposite wall and fell against it, watching with keen interest as the canvas lost its sheen and its frame began to reform as her body went numb, the music was replaced by a dull ringing and her vision wavered before it all went black.
Mary opened her eyes. She was on her knees, facing the spotless white floor. The music playing softly over the speakers left a dull ache in her head. Slowly, she pulled herself upright and turned to face the exhibit behind her – a gigantic canvas which encompassed all of Guertena's other works. She couldn't read the title, but she could ask about it later. Now what mattered most was why she had been on the floor – the girl couldn't remember what she had just been doing. It was quite odd.
Taking a step to leave, Mary cried out and fell flat on her face again. She pivoted her body to see what she tripped on, and saw a small sliver of gleaming metal; a palette knife. Curious, Mary picked up the knife. It felt oddly familiar.
Because it was hers.
The memories hit like a brick wall. It all came back at once; the lonely years spent in that hellish world, the friends she'd made and created herself and most importantly, the girl called Ib.
And like that, Mary was running. New tears flowing like rivers down her face, Mary ran through the gallery, desperate and terrified at once. Eventually, Mary's feet – as well as her heart – came to utter standstill. She was in the downstairs area of the gallery, just beyond Abyss of the Deep, and there she was.
In place of Embodiment of Spirit there now stood a sculpture depicting a certain girl – still in her blouse, ribbon and pleated skirt – standing with her arms outstretched, palms open wide. Thorn-covered vines originated from her heart wrapped around the girl's delicate limbs, and rooted her to the ground, where five red rose petals lay strewn at her feet. In each palm, the girl held a blooming rose: in her right, a blue rose; in her left, a yellow rose. Ib looked down on Mary, her eyes (although half closed) still gleaming as if alive and a small smile playing across her lips.
From her position, Mary could see the title of the piece: Decision.
Mary had collapsed onto her knees before she could steady herself, a racked sob escaping her mouth as her hands curled into fists and her terror transformed into utter rage.
"WHY?! YOU PROMISED!" Mary choked out between painful sobs, "WE WERE SUPPOSED TO LEAVE TOGETHER!"
As Mary looked into the sculpture's eyes – the eyes of her first, best friend – again, she nearly screamed, only stopping when a hand appeared on her back and a familiar voice rang out:
"Mary, what's wrong? You're making a scene!" The girl turned her head slowly to that voice. His voice.
"Garry!" Mary threw herself into his arms, crushing into his bony torso. She began to wail into his chest, as he closed his arms around her.
"What's this all about?" She wouldn't (couldn't) stop. "Come on now, I'm your big brother- you can tell me anything!"
Mary stopped at that. *Brother? It couldn't be – he's forgotten. He couldn't have! Not with an exact replica of Ib before him. Suddenly, they were moving. Garry had scooped up Mary to carry her, and now they were moving towards the exit. Away from the exhibit. Away from Ib. Mary tried to squirm out of Garry's arms, but to no avail.
"No! LET ME GO! I have to go back! This is a mistake- I have to save Ib!"
"M-Mary! You're hysterical! Please, be quiet, people are staring! W-wait, is that a knife in your hand?!" In an instant, Garry had snatched the knife away and thrown it into a nearby trashcan. "Where did you get such a thing?! We're having a serious talk when we get home!"
Mary fell limp into Garry's arms, defeated as she was carried over the threshold outside into the cool autumn evening.
END: Ib's Choice.
A/N: Well, that's it. Hope you enjoyed my first oneshot ever – with some luck, it was mildly interesting! I may add an epilogue in a day or two, so if you're interested please keep an eye out. Reviews would be much appreciated, thank you.
*Brother?: Mary becoming Garry's little sister was due to my interpretation of the Together, Forever ending. I took the interpretation that when a painting/artwork escapes the gallery, they become somehow linked to the one they escaped with, which would explain why two people were lured in in the first place (one to kill/replace, and one to be linked to), so that they would have somewhere to go/live when they escaped (this of course running on the assumption that reality beyond memories is altered when a painting takes the place of a human). I originally had another ending where Mary is dragged away from Garry (who also remembers) by Ib's parents, but I changed it because I preferred this ending (and Ib doesn't remember Garry fully when she sees his portrait in a certain ending, so him not remembering here is still acceptable).
Anyway, keep an eye out for the epilogue and review please - bye-bye!