OAO I finally checked my emails and saw you the comments you guys left ;~; Thanks for the support! I'll do my best to write this story! Although the following's short x_x You're all free to smack me ._.

"Garry, if I get fired for this, you owe me free drinks." Wesley warned as he took the marker from the artist's hand. He popped off the thin cap with his teeth and began tracing the shadow on the frozen frame.

Garry eyed the man's calloused hand as it carefully outlined the shadow on the screen. The thin line of ink revealed a nose and thin lips. The marker followed the skinny extension protruding from the figure then the rest of the body until there was no more room to trace. He squinted his eyes, trying to make out the shape of his friend's messy outline. No matter how he looked at it, he saw a person with long hair. A small person with a petite stature. Where has he seen this before? Then it hit him. The long wavy hair, the unusual bulk around the extension and the small body… It was all Mary crying for help. Garry's brain began to pound against his skull, forcing him to bring a hand up to his head. Dark images began to burn brightly in his mind, flooding back and awakening his memories.

BURN

It was all that person…

KILLED

The words…

MURDERER

That uneasy chill…

Loves me not

He remembered! He remembered what happened. Every detail of the night he had fallen unconscious in his apartment came rushing back to him. That blue gleam in the video was also there later that night. He's seem that shine of blue before. It's the only conclusion there is.

"Garry, are you alright?" The guard asked out of concern for his friend.

"I'm sorry, Wesley, but I have to go!"

"Again? If I lose this job-"

Too late, the man had already ran out the door, forcing his way through a crowded path of people. He ignored the dirty looks people had given him, his mind focused on one thing only: Ib. He ran further and further into the gallery, disregarding the warnings set up around the place. His heart pounded against his ear drums in rhythm with his panting and his running steps. Then he came to realized that those were the only sounds he could hear. He stopped. The artist stood there quietly, looking around as the lights went out, just as he remembered. He looked at the painting that awaited him on the floor with bated breath. Garry stared into the dark blue depths, still and lifeless.

Suddenly, the blue began to ripple just like water. The smell of salt permeated through the room, making him gag a bit. He could hear bubbles rise to the surface with little pops and gurgles. Slowly as they rose, they touched each other almost like a little dance. They started to take form, the tension of the bubbles' surface threatening to pop.

Hello

The man felt his stomach lurch and chills in his skin as he watched the bubbles break apart and form a new message. He didn't like how it was happening. Actually, he didn't like it was happening period. If just seeing bubbles form the word 'Hello' was scary, then what could Ib be going through?

Welcome back Garry

As he squat down to begin his descent to the Hell he escaped, the past began to rear its ugly head. It reminded him of the terrors that helped end him up in a year of therapy. The face of the Lady in Blue that almost took his life with a little game of Loves Me Loves Me Not almost made him hesitate. He swallowed his pride and focused on Ib whose life was on the line. His next step took him away and pulled him into the nightmare that was the deadly Fabricated world.

Just as he remembered, he ended up in a passageway of red, surrounded by words of dark blue that greeted him as he finished his descent down the stairs. They all lined up on the wall perfectly in rows, whispering the same thing over and over.

STAY FOREVER

THIS IS OUR PARADISE

PLAY WITH US

He looked down both ways of the corridor, trying to remember where he found his rose. The ground suddenly began to quake under him and he realized the walls behind him were closing, taking away his last chance to turn back. Then again, he refused to turn back; not when his best friend's life was on the line.

"No good standing around here." He turned into a random direction and started moving down the scribbled-on halls. "Just wait, Ib. I'm com-" So much for that dramatic hero moment. Face meet tile.

The man groaned as he pushed himself up, rubbing his nose as he turned on his bum. "My goodness, what did I trip on?" He pulled his legs closer to him to look and suddenly he wished he was up and running.

A blue doll greeted him with a stitched smile, its plush hands holding onto an emerald stalk that bloomed into a beautiful blue rose. It's red eyes stared blankly at the wall on the other side, only smiling at nothing.

"The rose." Garry realized. He reached his hand out to pull the flower out from the doll's grip. He gently held the flower close, making sure not to knock any petals loose. The rose only had five cerulean petals blossoming. Surely there was a vase nearby. He stood up and turned in search of one, ignoring the doll's deed of delivering his rose.

"What? No tip?" A squeaky voice asked.

Crap… Just crap…