Author Note:

Another chapter! I'm really surprised I've been able to post a chapter every day! :D yay! This fanfic is doing really well X3 I'm so happy! Anyways... here we go, Chapter 10!

Love chu all~ Keep Reading :)

~Scar

Chapter 10:

"You're... old now?" Garry asked, in utter disbelief, his eyes wide with shock. Ib laughed, and the light chiming sound calmed him a bit. It was familiar, her laugh, the one thing he could see that hadn't changed a bit.

"Younger than you if I recall correctly. Now, where the hell are we?" She asked. Garry smiled to himself. She had never been one to hesitate, a very strong-willed personality indeed.

"I'm not so sure myself, I wandered down this hallway earlier; but this whole section of the gallery seems different, older somehow," He looked around, nodding slightly. Ib thought about it, she did get the feeling that this corridor was older, she couldn't pinpoint why, maybe it was the utter lack of color; she had never seen so much black in any of the Guertena galleries.

"What's up with the dark colors?"

"I'm not sure..." He stood, pressing a hand to the wall for support, his muscles shifting under his tank-top, Ib kept telling herself to stop looking. He looked weak, tired.

"Are you okay?" Ib asked, looking down at his bluish rose, it was alive, but wilting slightly, the petals seemed to be smeared with some darker color around the edges, it looked kind of like black.

"Yeah, I believe so," but even as he said it he slumped against the wall slightly.

"Here." She shifted so their bodies were pressed against each other, side by side, and wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

"That's not-" He blushed slightly, Ib shook her head slightly.

"Just accept it, it's not like your complaining is going to make me back down," she snapped, smiling slightly to herself. It was remarkable, hours ago she didn't know where she was, or what was going on, but now, she felt like she had eight years ago; and with Garry by her side... she didn't feel any fear as she prepared to press forward into the unforgiving darkness.

"Where are we going to go?" Garry asked, his breathing slightly shallow. It was a good question.

"First, we are going to find you a vase," She led him down the corridor, their footsteps ringing through the dark emptiness. It was a rather long corridor, seeming to stretch forever in both directions. Intermittenly here and there were doorways, but they were all locked tight (they checked every single one). Garry leaned more against Ib as they walked, his head resting on his arm. He was so delectably close, his breath tickled her neck, and his hair brushed lightly against her pale skin. She shivered slightly. Vase. That's what I was looking for. She shook herself slightly, Garry had closed his eyes, snuggling closer against his own arm, she rested her head on his for a moment, his cool skin calming her slightly. Vase. With a look of strong determination, she set off again.

Garry just let himself be carried along, slowly slipping into the world of daydreams, he looked up at her determined face through his long lashes. I'm so glad you found me... I was so alone...

He smiled slightly as he closed his eyes.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Black pressed the Yellow brush to the canvas, and swirled it expertly. An image seemed to appear, like a ghost, through the dark gray. Mary. Yellow almost started to cry with happiness. My darling child. The image was strange though, Mary wasn't exactly herself, her skin was darkish gray, her hair graying yellow, and her dress, a faded green cloth in tatters. Through the tears in the green fabric, Yellow could see more of her pale skin, and long marring scars that looked sewn together. They had put her back together like a puzzle, improvising when the pieces didn't exactly fit together... but Yellow didn't care. She didn't care one bit if it meant Mary would be coming back to them. She didn't think it was possible for a creature like her to have such a strong bond with another painting, but Mary was hers. She would NEVER let anyone hurt her again. Black hissed and gurgled, more black paint escaping from the cracks in her stitches; she traced a long clawed finger across the canvas, before leaning in and... kissing it? Yellow watched her with shock, and slight anger.

"Very good. We're done with you now. Go crawl back to whatever hell hole you came from this time." White waved towards the door, her attention never wavering from the painting in front of her. This has to work. She gently placed a hand on the smooth, painted surface, doing her best not to smear the paint, and reached into it. Her fingers disappeared into the canvas, swallowed up by the dark night. Her face shifted into one full of concentration as she drove her hand further in. Her face slightly flickered with pain, but it didn't last for long. She groped around, feeling for the child on the other side.

This HAS to work.

/\-*~*-*~*-*~*-/\

Mary was in extreme pain by now. She squirmed uncomfortably, tears running down her face as the last fat, black droplet of poison splashed onto her skin. Now what? She waited, and waited and waited. It was a long wait before anything happened; but one day, a dark portal, swirling with black and purple expanded in front of her. It's surface cracked with electricity. There was a hand then, one that was soft, pale white, and partly cloaked in a supple glove, it reached for her, fingertips waggling expectantly. Mary reached out for it, her fingers grazing the opposing ones. It grabbed her firmly, and tugged her through. For the first time in what felt like years, Mary felt the air brush against her skin, the crayon-wood beneath her feet, and the light. She could feel her body absorb the hot sunlight that filtered into the room, she drew in a deep breath and opened her eyes.

She was back. Back in her room with the other Ladies, safe and happy.

And she would never lose those feelings again.