A twist on an idea commonly used in Ib FanFiction. Summary: Two years after Garry escapes from the Art Gallery with his just his sister Mary, he revisits the long forgotten place to find clues of a sudden nostalgic thought he's been having about a painting of A Girl With A Red Rose.

"Garry! Wake up Garry!" said the blond girl, shaking the young man on the arm. "The school bell has already gone."

The young man tossed back his violet hair to massage his forehead in his half sleeping state."W-what...? Oh, it's just you Mary."

"Get up already, you old man. Everyone else is already gone."

"Oh, right. We're still at school." Garry said, raising his head to see his sister Mary, who was a year younger than him. She had large blue eyes and wavy blond hair, and was very gentle underneath her rough demeanour.

Mary looked at her older brother, and saw tears rolling down his cheeks. "Garry, are you alright? You're crying..."

"Huh?" He patted his cheeks and felt warm salty water drip away uncontrollably.

"Garry, did something happen?"

"What? No. I think it was in the dream I had or something. It was so bizarre. It might have done something to my emotions of whatever."

"I get it. It's like one of those ones that are a reflection of your subconscious. Maybe it was from trauma, I don't know."

"I actually think your right."

"Anyways, let's go home. Dinner awaits!"

Garry could only think about this strange dream he had, all the way home. His sister would talk to him about her day or something, but he was lost in his own thoughts, trying to recollect the contents of his dream or 'subconscious reflection'.

He remembered being back in the art gallery he was trapped in two years ago when he was sixteen. He was all by himself with his sister Mary who lost her humanity. When she came out though, she lost all memory of what had happened and fell into a comma for six whole months and the doctors said all the damage to her brain had disappeared instantaneously.

But this dream showed the two of them, but with another girl too. She was beautiful with brown hair, a white top, red skirt and a red rose to match. Garry tried to remember her name from the dream he just had. Agnes, Ava, Eva, Emma, Ingrid, Eleanor -

"Ib." Garry said suddenly, ending his list of names.

"Ib?" Mary asked, "Is that supposed to mean something?"

"S-Sorry...Hey, do you remember that handkerchief he have at home? That lacy looking white one I got from the art gallery, which I found in my pocket?"

"Oh yeah. Ohh, that's why you said Ib. That was the word sewn onto it in red. Perhaps it belonged to someone. It's not like they'll remember it now. Well, it could have been special. Ib huh..." Mary said, testing out the name. "Why do I feel like I remember that from somewhere else?"

Mary and Garry arrived at their little house and their mother served them some food, and Mary ate happily at the dinner table and told her brother cheesy jokes and about tales at school. Garry tried to listen to get his mind off of things.

But things wouldn't sit right. Something inside him told him he had to know, know about this girl in his dream. Who was she? Why was her name the one on the handkerchief? Why does she look exactly like a painting back at the gallery? The worst part was that, being a witness of what he's been through, there was a chance all of this could connect somehow.

There was only one thing to do. Garry put on his coat, grabbed his car keys and went to open the front door. "Where are you going already? We just got back from school." Marry asked.

"Mary, I'm eighteen. I think I can handle myself."

"Is it anywhere important? I'm a big girl too, seventeen! Can I come?"

"I think its best you don't. Bye then."

He closed the door and drove in his car all the way to the gallery he was in two years ago. Garry's stomach churned at the thought of returning, but there was nothing else to be done. He needed some sort of answer and the art gallery was the only place that came to mind.

Just walking through the building scared him a little. He searched in a slight hurry for this painting. When he'd crossed into another room, there it was. Right in the centre, by itself in this room of its own.

"Please don't let something bad happen..." Garry mumbled. He stood in front of the painting. The girl in the picture was from a profile view. She had no emotion on her face, but seemed sad and she held gently onto a rose with its petals being blown away into the dark background. Garry read out the title of the painting to himself. "I-Ib All Alone - The Forgotten Portrait...J-Just like the girl in the dream. It's not like anything is going to happen. It's not like the painting is going to spring to life."

The lights flickered around him and Garry's whole body jerked into a defensive stance. The lights became clear again. A voice echoed through his head. 'Garry...Help...Please, remember me...Ib'

Garry suddenly felt frightened. Something was actually happening. He had a thousand thoughts in his head, but it all compressed to one thing.

"Oh lord, why is this is so creepy?!"

'Garry, hold my hand and save me...' Said the voice of a girl. She sounded scared and desperate. Garry had no idea what he meant, but instinctively reached out to grab the hand in the painting. His hand did get stopped. It went right through like the painting was air.

He couldn't see his hand, but could feel the cold still air on the other side. He walked closer, almost into the painting, and hesitantly peered his head through. He opened his eyes, raised his head and saw a girl sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall. The light the shone on her was from the light bulb in the gallery. It was almost like she was staring out of a one way window where the rest of the world couldn't see her.

"Garry! Your here!" She sobbed, crawling closer to him. Garry's head started hurting like there were needles of high pitched sounds jammed into his brain. Memories flashed through him and suddenly the girl in front of him was no longer a stranger.

"I-Ib..." Garry said softly, "I-I remember you properly now. You and I with Mary at the gallery. You never escaped because you tried to save me. I wanted to save you because I lo- Uh, never mind. How long have you been here? You look different."

"I think I've still been growing during my time here. It's like I'm a ghost. No one can see me, hear me, and remember me. I never feel hungry and time goes on with me. I've missed you so much Garry. I can't begin to describe how much I've been...longing for you to come."

Garry couldn't here another word of her suffering. He took hold of her hand and practically pulled her out of the alternate world. She stumbled over, suddenly feeling the material world after so long and Garry caught her. She suddenly felt so warm in his arms. Garry's cheeks flared red, for some reason. "A-Are you alright?" He stuttered.

"Y-Yes...It's just been so long since I've felt real. I thought that it would have been like a skip in time and I wouldn't feel anything."

"Instead you've been feeling pain for two years. I'm sorry I took so long to come. I can't believe I could have ever forgotten you."

"I want to be able to leave this all behind Garry. I'm glad I can see you again. You were all I could think about."

"I remember telling you while we were in the gallery, that if anyone would be left behind it would be me. I would have done anything to save Mary and you. Somehow you became so much to me in such a small amount of time."

"Garry," Ib said.

"Yeah."

"I couldn't let anything bad happen to you in there. I saved you because I love you, Garry." Ib blushed.

...

"What?! You-!" Garry took a step back in shock. He hadn't expected this at all. "Uh...I uh.. I hovmhouhm."

Ib giggles, almost cheekily. "Hm? What did you say?"

"I-I love you too..."

Ib smiled gladly. "Thanks, Garry."

Something short for everyone reading. I felt bored and noticed everyone writes about Ib being 17 and remembering Garry. But what about it being the other way round? I noticed that I've always made Garry be the more forward, confident one. Girls can ask out guys confidently too! Sorry if this seemed lazy. It was more like a drabble.

I hope you enjoyed it, nonetheless.

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