A/N: I know I shouldn't be starting another story while I'm still working on another one but the words just don't seem to want to come out the way I want them to. Also, having more than one project helps me out a lot. I can switch between them whenever I get writer's block, which will inevitably happen. I hope you enjoy this. I seem to be on a roll lately with writing. The plot bunnies keep attacking me.

Besides, Ib's parents need more love. I don't think they have names so I gave them some. Let me know if they do have official names.

Chapter 1

Ezekiel and Vivian Gallagher were worried. Their daughter had not been sleeping well. For the last five months she had woken up screaming, yet she refused to tell them what was wrong. Their daughter had always been quiet and very independent for a child her age. They had assumed her nightmares were a phase that would soon pass. But they were wrong. They were as often as ever and seemed to be growing in intensity. Some nights she was unable to sleep at all, and it was weighing upon her. She seemed to be withdrawing into herself. Though caring, she had never been a social child. And now, it seemed she was isolating herself.

They sat in the living room. Ezekiel held the newspaper open in his hands and his wife held a book in hers. But they were not paying any attention to the words on the page. They stared at them blankly as their ears were focused solely upstairs to where their daughter slept. The night before had been especially brutal. She had barely gotten an hour's worth of sleep before she woke up in terror. She did not even notice her parents' arms wrapped around her as they attempted to comfort her. They had tried to call out to her, to shake her lightly from her trance, and had finally been forced splash ice cold water on her before the faraway look faded. Afterward, they had stayed with her until she fell asleep, reading her favorite stories and singing her lullabies. It had taken her hours to fall asleep and she had still been tossing and turning restlessly.

It was early afternoon now. She had been sleeping for nearly nine hours and while they were glad she was getting actual rest, they worried for her health. Still, they hoped this instance of sleep was the precursor to things returning to normal for her.

"AHHHHH!"

They both jumped up immediately, taking the stairs two at a time to reach her room. By the time they opened the door she was sitting wide awake in bed, sobbing. Ezekiel pulled her against his chest as Vivian pulled her hands away from her eyes and tried to squeeze them comfortingly with her own. Ib's cries died down in volume but she continued gasping and hiccuping. She still couldn't stop crying.

Vivian was crying now too. Ezekiel clutched her tighter, frustrated her could do nothing to protect his daughter. He rocked her softly back and forth as her sobs slowly subsided. They stayed sitting there for a long time in silence.

"Ib, sweetie? Please tell me what's wrong," her father mumbled softly.

He could feel her stiffen and almost regretted asking.

She shook her head adamantly.

"Please, dear," he insisted, imploringly. "I—we—just want to help you."

She shook her head again.

"Dammit, Ib! Just tell me!"

She froze, eyes wide. She looked like she was going to cry again.

"I-I'm sorry. I'm just frustrated, honey. I want to help you. But I don't know what to do. You have to tell me or I can't do anything."

She shook her head again, slowly, sadly. And for the first time that day, she spoke.

"You can't."

They were sitting in the living room, watching Ib playing quietly with a stuffed bunny. She looked so miserable. She had bags under her eyes which no child should ever have. She moved sluggishly, with a quality that made her seem so tiny and hopeless. It looked like she would collapse into herself and disappear. She hadn't smiled in months. They didn't know what to do anymore.

Ding dong!

They jumped. They did not expect any visitors today. Ezekiel got up and answered it, while his wife continued to watch their daughter worriedly.

It was a young man. He had dyed purple hair with black roots beginning to grow back in. He wore a tattered jacket. He held a bag in his hand. He stared at him surprised. He definitely was not from their neighborhood.

"Good afternoon, sir," the young man began, obviously feeling awkward. "My name is—"

"Garry!"

The two parents stared in bewilderment as they watched their daughter come alive again as she launched herself at the stranger. He knelt down, returning the embrace and chuckling.

"Good afternoon, Ib."

She burrowed her head into his chest and mumbled a happy reply.

"It's good to see you too."

"Ib? Who is this?" Vivian asked, glancing back and forth between her daughter and the young man.

Ezekiel intervened. He tugged Ib from Garry's arms and held her tightly to him. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. He did not notice the panicked expression on Ib's face as he pulled her away.

"Yes, Ib. Who is this man?"

"It's Garry," Ib stated impatiently. She held out her arms towards him pleadingly.

Garry merely shook his head with a small smile. "That's okay, Ib. It makes sense for them not to trust me. They don't know me."

"Indeed, sir. How do you know our daughter?"

"It's Garry," Ib repeated, as if that explained everything.

"We met at the gallery. Um, the Guertena exhibit? She was browsing and asked me to explain some of the more difficult titles words."

Ib's startled mother relaxed. "Well, in that case, thank you. I'm Ib's mother, Vivian. That's her father, Ezekiel. Would you like to come in?"

Before he could even think of stepping through the door, Ib's father blocked the way.

"That still doesn't explain why you are here," he snapped. "How did you know where we live?"

"Ib invited me. Also, I need to return something of hers."

"I can return it," he held out his hand. "Why do you have anything of hers in the first place?"

"Oh, Zeke. Just let the boy in. He can explain inside."

Reluctant and suspicious, Ezekiel stepped away from the door. Garry entered, shooting nervous glances at Ib's father. Vivian ushered him into their living room and offered him a seat. He took the seat out of courtesy, thanking the woman. He still felt uncomfortable. She handed him a glass of water and he forced the liquid down the lump in his throat. Ib, taking her chance, hopped onto the couch and took the space next to Garry. He winced inwardly. He just knew her father wouldn't like that. He sat awkwardly in the silence.

Ib tugged on his sleeve. He turned his attention to her for the first time since he had greeted her.

"Are we going out for macaroons now? You promised."

Though he didn't see it, he knew her father had shifted in anger and surprise. He could feel sweat spring up upon his forehead.

"Not now, Ib. I just―," he floundered, trying to get out of the situation.

That was when he finally looked down―really legitimately looked―at Ib. She was as cute as ever. That childishly hopeful look was endearing and he did not want to say no. But he still would have if he didn't notice the flash of desperation in her eyes. It was that barely there flash of pleading need that prompted him to pay Ib the attention she deserved. She looked tired, exhausted even. The dark circles under her eyes were obvious now that he looked. His mind replayed her actions since he arrived. She had been slumped slightly, a stark contrast to her usually proper posture. As soon as she realized it was him, she had perked up and greeted him. She had clung to him as tightly as a child her age could. Ib had hugged him when, in his insanity, he had almost left her alone in the gallery. She had never hugged him since then. Not even when they had escaped from the gallery. She'd been trembling when he greeted her today. And then he knew. He knew she was not okay. That she needed him. That she was just as haunted, if not more, as he was by their time in the gallery. So he answered in a way that would comfort his little friend, even as he knew it would enrage her father.

"I mean, sure. Why not?" He looked up at her parents and added, "Why don't you two come also? My treat."

" That would be lovely! Let's join them."

Ezekiel relented under his wife's easy acceptance. "Fine, where's your car?"

Garry startled. "Sir? I don't have one. I walked here."

The man's gaze turned disapproving. "You were going to have us walk there, even little Ib?"

Garry froze. He hadn't thought of that. He thought they would walk over, chat, and catch up. Besides, Ib had more endurance than he did, as he knew from experience. While after a while he had huffed and puffed, Ib had retained her brisk walk and continued to lead. And he needed to take two steps to match one of his own. "It's not far. But I suppose you're right. Maybe next time, then."

"Yes, well. You have no other business then, I assume. Why don't you give Ib what's hers and leave."

Garry gazed imploringly at Ib's mother. She seemed much more agreeable than the man who was currently glaring at him. She met his gaze and smiled.

"Zeke, he's still just a boy. He probably isn't even old enough to drive."

"How old are you, then?"

"Eighteen, sir."

"He's old enough then."

"Only barely, dear. Why don't you drive all of us? Garry will give us directions, won't you?"

"Of course."

And thus began the most awkward fifteen minutes of his life.

A/N: Sorry for the extra note here. I think this is off to a good start. I just know her father is a papa wolf. I've always envisioned Ib's mother as an absolute sweetheart and eventual IbxGarry supporter. She has that husband of hers wrapped around her finger. That's going to help Garry out in the future.

In either case,

Until next time friendlies!

Thanks for all the support.