Disclaimer: I do not own Ib.
Chapter 3
Ib sat up and rubbed her eyes. Disoriented, she stretched and glanced around the room anxiously. She tried to remember where she was. The room was a dull grey and tiny. As she looked around her eyes fell upon a portrait that was undeniably familiar. Her parents. Deja vu settled in. Hadn't she seen them that way before? Her eyebrows furrowed in thought. But she was absolutely sure that they didn't have a portrait like that at home. At least, not like this. They would never have a portrait done without her. Mind finally catching up with her present, she remembered she was in the gallery. She didn't remember falling asleep. She sat up fully and stared absently down at her knees as she thought about her situation. When had she fallen asleep? The only door in the room opened, unnoticed by her.
"Ib!" a male voice said, shock and relief coloring the tone. "You're awake! How are you?"
Looking up she saw...Garry. The purple hair with black at its roots, the clothes, and the blue rose in his hand just screamed Garry. She had found him? No, rather, it seemed he had found her.
"...I … I had a nightmare," she whispered quietly. Why did she say that? The sleep she had gotten had been dreamless.
"That's too bad," he said, shaking his head in sympathy. "Well, don't worry too much about it. Why don't we get going? We should get out of here as soon as we can."
She nodded and got off the floor. That sounded like a good plan. She was with Garry now. That was the only reason she had come here and now that they were together they could go home. She ignored the slight pinch in her heart signaling that something was wrong. It was probably just the thought of going along with a stranger that made her uncomfortable. Her parents had, after all, taught her to be mindful of strangers. But when she had got off the floor she had felt colder than she thought she should be. And as they left the room her eyes fell to where she had slept, feeling like she something should have been there for her to pick up.
A while after they left the room a thought pervaded her mind. There was something off about Garry. It felt like she should be in front, leading instead of him. He was so calm, navigating the way effortlessly. He was the adult though. Adults were supposed to be the caretakers, weren't they? She was being ridiculous. He led her from one area to the next, solving puzzles and getting through obstacles with little difficulty at all. Somehow, the feeling of uneasiness grew stronger. Puzzles this difficult they had needed to work together to solve before, she was sure. She shrugged off the thought. He was bound to have gotten better at them with all the time he had been stuck in the gallery. Still, the feeling that things were going too smoothly didn't go away.
Everything in the gallery was so silent, too. Ib was never very talkative and Garry didn't try to fill up the silence at all. Even without her memory she could feel that he had been the one who talked. He had filled the silence with assurances, to her, to himself. He had spoken optimistically, occasionally seeming to be talking only to comfort himself. This time, she shoved the thought to the back of her mind with annoyance. Of course he was different. Anyone would change after being stuck in a place like this for an extended amount of time. An image of Garry, eyes crazed after being left alone, flashed through her mind. She placed the memory next to the other one she had forced away. This place couldn't make Garry go crazy. He was right there, in front of her! She glanced at his back as he continued to lead. She directed her thoughts away from doubt and to the room hallway around her.
She had been here before she had met up with Garry. They were going back to get a marble she had seen to use as an eye. A painting of a snake had been missing one. Fulfilling this favor would, presumably, open a new path for them. Startled, her walk became brisk and her eyes darted around the room. She had been chased by a mob of Ladies here before. Now, they were all in place along the walls, unmoving. Why weren't they attacking? Another image came, unbidden, to her head. A little girl, about her age, with yellow hair and blue eyes was wearing a green dress. Who was she? Enemies hadn't attacked when she was around. Why was that? An important memory was obviously evading Ib's grasp.
Suddenly, Garry stopped. Ib nearly ran right into him. Stepping around him, she noted the glower upon his face. She followed his gaze to a doll on the floor. It was torn and terrifying. Pins were stuck into it haphazardly, obviously an attempt to seal up the hole in its stomach. Above it in yellow paint were the words Take me with you. She looked up at Garry questioningly, whose demeanor had soured further. He shook his head and turned away from it, hand taking Ib's wrist and tugging her away. She guessed the doll was dangerous and allowed herself to be pulled along. They had followed the hallway a stretch before they came across the doll again. Why are you ignoring me? She wondered absently how it had gotten there before them before dispelling the thought. Things didn't work the same way here.
They continued passed it. It appeared again. Do you hate me? The little thing already looked so pitiful being broken and Ib almost picked it up. The gallery had tricked her before though and they walked on. She wasn't surprised the next time they came upon it. I don't like being alone. She could empathize and the guilt began to gnaw at her. Still she walked away. The doll was slumped over when they came upon it again. I understand. I wouldn't want me either. She winced. She really felt bad for it. But taking it could be a mistake. It seemed like it had slumped further the next time they came to it. Thanks for at least reading the messages. Goodbye. Ib couldn't stand it anymore. The poor doll looked so miserable. She snatched it up, mindful of the protruding pins before Garry could get a word in.
"We're taking it," she stated with finality.
"Ib, look. It is just a broken toy. Moreover, it is a part of the gallery. It could be dangerous." Garry pointed out. She thought she saw his face contort into a glower directed at herself for a second. But she blinked and when she opened them his face was kind and imploring.
She shook her head adamantly, bringing the doll up to her chest protectively.
"Not everything here is bad," she declared, firmly. "Remember the Bride and Groom? Or what about The Fisherman?"
"We helped the Bride and Groom get their rings back, so they helped us. They don't help people without something to gain. As for The Fisherman, that was just him doing what he was created to do."
"Not true," she argued, desperately. "Remember The Liar's Room? The brown one helped and got torn apart for it."
He floundered. He couldn't dispute that.
"That was the only one painting out of the who-knows-how-many creations in this gallery," he tried to argue back. "What are the chances of anything else in here being good?"
"But what if it is good? We can't just leave it alone. What if it can help us?"
"But—"
She cut him off. "We don't have anything to worry about! I have a lighter! If it really turns out to be bad I can stop it!"
Garry stiffened at the word "lighter."
"A lighter," he repeated softly. He held out his hand. "Give that to me. It's dangerous. It would be better for me to keep it."
She froze, startled by the sudden change of topic. The reasoning was valid, but it felt wrong to part with it. The uneasiness blossomed in her again.
"No," she blurted out.
"No?"
"I'd like to keep it on me. It's... important to me. If we need to burn anything I'll let you do it, I promise."
He seemed displeased but nodded stiffly. She exhaled softly in relief. They finally started to walk again. Suddenly remembering the doll in her arms, she looked down. She smiled reassuringly at it and noticed it's stomach was bulging a bit. Curious, she looked at it more closely, she could see something in it. She whispered an apology as she removed a few pins, allowing the hole to widen. She pulled out the thread, wincing as she felt a prick upon her finger. She sucked on it and soothed it with her tongue before carefully reaching in again. It was a needle. She grinned down at the doll as she made the connection. She spent the next hour sewing up the hole as she continued following Garry's lead. The finished product was a definite improvement though the patch job was noticeable and each of her fingers had taken at least three pricks of the needle.
After making it through the newly revealed pathway Garry stopped abruptly. She thought she saw panic crossing his face but it was gone so quickly she was sure she imagined it. He turned back to her, eyes flicking to the doll for a split second.
"I remember this area," he claimed. "It's full of paintings and sculptures that chased me just the other day. Wait here. I'll go on ahead and get rid of them."
She reluctantly agreed. She sat down and leaned against the wall, placing the doll down beside her. She stared down the hallway they had come from, bored and spacing out. Something soft hit her shoulder and she looked down. The doll had fallen. More importantly, there were words scrawled on the floor in yellow paint in front of it. Pay attention when you go down that hall, something is missing.
A/N: Well, there's the third chapter. I enjoyed writing it. Things are finally picking up. I know what I want to happen next but this chapter is running a bit long (and it is incredibly late. I'm tired.).
Until next time, my dear friendlies,
Dfsemina
