Disclaimer: I do not own Ib.

Chapter 4

She stared down at the words, uncomprehending. Understanding came upon her slowly. The feeling of dread she had been choking down returned full force. She glanced at the door Garry had left from. Looking back at the doll, she found it in a different position. It was upright once again, head tilted upward towards hers. She nodded, showing she understood. It hadn't felt wrong when she had decided to pick up the doll. It had felt wrong following Garry. She would trust it, or at least keep its advice in mind.

"Well, I got rid of them. Let's go."

Ib startled to her feet as Garry suddenly appeared at the door. She nodded her consent and he disappeared behind the door again. Gaze falling to the floor, the doll was lying face up, covering the painted message. She picked it up and smeared the message with her foot until it was illegible. Somehow, she didn't think it would be good if Garry read it. She followed after him.

The hallway was clear, just as he said it would be. She followed his quiet figure down the seemingly endless hallway, eyes darting around anxiously. The walls were bare. She should have felt safe with this knowledge, relieved even, but she felt strangely anxious. Clutching the doll tighter against her chest, she remembered its words. Pay attention. All she could see was the hallway stretching into the distance, the grey walls dull and empty. Though the situation felt ominous, she did not notice anything wrong.

Later, they finally came to the end of the hallway. Or, rather, it continued, but the remainder was drawn in what looked like pink crayon. It went on and on. It twisted and turned and opened up into a large empty room. There were childish drawings scribbled all over the floor. Toybox, her mind supplied. There weren't any toys here. Maybe that was what was missing? The hallway continued as they went up the crudely drawn stairs. Another flight of stairs appeared as they walked and it led them into a small pink room. The painting that covered the entire back wall struck her as odd. Why would anyone set such a large painting into such a tiny room? This whole area had been in crayon, why was this one painting here? She walked up to it.

It was in a simple wood frame. It completely covered the middle part of the wall, from floor to ceiling. She was sure it would fit better in a room with a higher ceiling. It did not look familiar, though she was sure she had seen every single item in the gallery during her visits. It was a simple painting. The middle depicted a wall of glass, separating two hallways. The one on the left was bright, filled with the white silhouettes of people, all distinct and different from one another. The one on the right was dark, as if all the lights were off but there was just barely enough light to see. There were black silouhettes, just as many as in the other hallway, but they seemed wrong. Each and every one of them were identical. Though they were faced different ways or positioned differently, they looked exactly alike. They were more like outlines than sihouettes. The outline of a human in general rather than anyone specific. They had no features, no noticeable shadow to distinguish hair or clothing, nothing to suggest whether they were male or female. But the most striking part of the painting was the contrast. In the darkened hallway, there kneeled a white silhouette, its position suggesting it was banging upon the glass partition. All-in-all, it was an interesting painting. She looked for the title... and found it was nowhere to be seen. Her eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement. Maybe this was what was missing? It seemed better than the toy idea. She was about to glance down at the doll still in her arms when she felt an iron grip on her shoulder. She jumped and turned to face Garry.

"We should keep going. What are you looking at?"

He stared at her intently, waiting for an answer.

"I'm not sure. Do you know it's title? I can't find it."

He continued staring at her for a long moment before answering. Without sparing a glance for the painting, he replied, "I've no idea. Let's go."

He gripped her wrist and pulled her along. She followed reluctantly, eyes on the painting until it diappeared behind a corner.

"Garry?"

"Yeah," he replied, not bothering to turn and look at her.

She blushed, embarrassed. "Is there a restroom I may use nearby?"

He stopped and turned to her, frowning. "Yeah, come on."

He ushered her down a couple of hallways before reaching the bathrooms. She ducked into it, apologizing.

Entering, she closed the door behind herself and leaned against it, drained. She was tired and being with Garry was nerve-racking. She felt like she had to be careful around him. She set the doll down on the table in the corner and, slipping her rose into the blue vase on top of it, went into a stall. When she came out, the doll was hanging from the sharp edge of the table by a thread, new stitches torn open. She quickly washed her hands and went to it, picking it up to inspect it. There was a painted message on the table. I have a treasure! Keep it a secret, okay?She pulled the doll open further, apologizing as she did so. She sifted through the cotton before her fingers brushed against something solid and thin. She pulled it out. It was a stem. It was dry, had already started to brown. It was bare save for a single tanned, curled-up petal that was only barely attached. She looked up at her rose that sat in the vase and decided to try to coax the dead stem back to health. She placed it into the water and watched.

At first, nothing happened. Then slowly, color began returning to the stem. As it turned into a healthy dark green, the petal began to unfurl itself, flattening into its proper shape before a bright blue seeped into it from the base then spread through to its edges. Other petals emerged from the stem one by one until it became a vibrant dark blue rose. It was fuller then hers, with more petals. It seemed like it was at the prime of its life, blooming beautifully. Her red rose beside it was also beautiful, but it was smaller. It had less petals and though the petals had a slight curl to them, it seemed like hers was just a bud that had only started to bloom. She took it out of the vase and examined it further. Her fingers caressed the petals and she could feel relief settling into her body. This rose was important. With care, she placed the rose back into the doll's body and did a quick patch-up. It was much easier the second time. She smiled at it gratefully. She resolved to take it with her when she left the gallery and have her mother fix it properly.

In a dark hallway, a young man pushed himself off the floor groggily. There was a soreness to his limbs as if he had been sleeping on a hard surface. Blinking until the haze in his mind cleared, he found that that had been the case. He reached into his pocket for a cigarette and his lighter and sighed as he found neither. Where was he again? He'd just used his last cigarette before he went to the gallery. The last time he had used his lighter was... the lights had gone out... he hadn't been alone... he had called out for someone... a name... Eve?... no... Ib. Fully awake now, he remembered everything. He tensed immediately and looked around himself, expecting to see the quiet little girl nearby. Where had she gone?

"Calm down," he scolded himself. "I was a goner. She may have gotten out on her own!"

It certainly fit his image of her. She was a very bright and determined child. Reassured but still worried, he decided to continue down the hallway. A crunch beneath his foot made him pause and he looked down. It was the spot where he'd been sleeping. He stepped back and kneeled to inspect it. He had stepped on a dry leaf. No... He swallowed hard as he realized it wasn't a leaf. It was dried and now crushed by his foot but he knew it had come from his rose. He must have been out for longer than he thought. There was a piece of candy next to where he had slept. He picked it up and smiled. A lemon drop. Ib was so sweet. He wondered if she understood that he'd been dying. He hoped not. The only thing left that he hadn't noticed was the message scrawled on the floor. He shivered, he knew that yellow paint anywhere. He glanced around warily, but didn't see any dolls. He brushed his fingers against the message, fingers coming away clean. It was dry, probably had been for a while. Hide and Seek? I'm on the little girl's team! He frowned disapprovingly. Mary and her creations always acted like everything was a game. Somehow, he knew the "little girl" it was referring to wasn't Mary. Urgency springing him into action, he ran, hoping to find Ib before it was too late.

He arrived at the stairs at the end of the hallway and found another message. On the first step, it read, Follow the leader too? Yay! There was another dead rose petal beside it. So that was why he didn't see any others on the way over. He felt sick at seeing the remains of his fading life on the floor but comforted himself in the knowledge that it wasn't Ib's petals scattered over the floor. He found no more messages but he petals were placed sparingly throughout the gallery, leading him. Finally, he came upon another message. Somebody's playing Pretend again. It isn't Creator this time. He groaned in frustration. Now there was someone else to look out for! The messages had begun to become more frequent.

I don't like it!

Make it go away!

I like the little girl! I don't want it with us! Garry was worried now. Whatever it was, it was with her. And judging from the doll's messages, it didn't like Ib.

I'm out of petals. Find us now.

The next message was simply: Hurry.

A/N: Well this is finally up! Things are finally moving along! Just saying, creepy as it is, I love that little doll that freaked Garry out. I'm sure you could tell by now.