Disclaimer: I don't own the characters and I don't own this story.

LOUD AND CLEAR! I DO NOT, HAVE NOT AND WILL NOT EVER OWN THIS STORY!

This story is the property of Tang Guangzhen who was kind enough to give me permission to post this here. Any flames about that will be used to fry your ass.

Thank You

They were in their room, Tameriel on one side of the bed, Megare and Cruachan on the other. Harry was lying down, Bob sitting next to him, holding his hand.

Tameriel looked at Bob. "Take him; I'll deal with the curse when you're safe."

Bob gazed at Harry. "You will see me. In dreams."

"I wasn't sure," Harry whispered. "They'll be your dreams, too."

"Close your eyes," Bob whispered back.

Harry felt Bob's fingers ghost over his forehead, just like they'd felt before, when he couldn't really even touch, and--

"Harry?" Megare's voice, then again, more softly. "Bob?"

"Mm." Harry's eyes flickered open. Nothing else moved.

//Bob. FYI; I have no access at all. I sure hope you do//

//I do, my darling; there was no room for error. Don't worry. The reason you have no sensation is that the feeling of being paralyzed, or of moving to any serious degree without willing it, is terrifying when one can feel; whereas without sensation, one usually experiences a dissociation, rather like a dim sort of dream. How are you//

//Better knowing I won't be able to feel my body until I'm not worse than paralyzed//

//I'll give you tactility and anything else that applies over whatever I cede to your control, and nothing else; don't worry//

//I'm not, now//

//Tell me if there's anything you want me to do//

//I will//

"I'm here, Megare," Bob said. "So is Harry. He's awake, but he has no control right now. I suppose Tameriel thought it would be safest that way, the simplest form of possession--we can work out the rest as we have been. There'll be no breaks until we get it right, now, though."

"I will help you rest when you need to," Megare promised. "If you cannot do what must be done on your own, and I must help--and stand ready to send you to delta--that is what we will do; we can try, first, to see if you can do it on your own."

"Is Wizard Dresden well?" Cruachan boomed. They'd been out for a while, or hearth imps sobered up fast.

"He's fine, for now, Cruachan," Bob said. "Don't worry; I will take all best care of him."

"We know," Megare said. "Your voice is interesting."

"I'd noticed that myself. It's lovely when Harry uses it, but I couldn't sing with this to save my life. Harry's noticed too; he's a bit put off, I'm afraid."

//Just…my voice, sounding like some English guy//

Bob laughed, and raised a hand to his face. He could feel a difference. This face smiled, and cried, and showed everything there was to see, so easily. "He isn't thrilled with the change. Where's Tameriel?"

"I have been keeping you sleeping for a while. She had to return to her duties; she had the curse with her. She said to tell you--she wish you luck, and call her when you need of it again," Megare looked bemused. "I think that she will be watching you especially."

"What, ah, what did it look like?"

"Like lunch box. Spider-Man. Stupid, it not look like anything."

"Of course. I just…wondered. Anyway…" he extended his arms and managed to sit. "Oh, my. I feel…tall. Harry's generally kept control of locomotion so far, so…"

//You are tall. Try to remember that, okay//

"Yes, Harry, I'm sure I will," he muttered, holding his hands before him. "I've never had total control before."

"I never not hear you so good before," Megare said, and smiled rather sadly. "You are not dead."

He realized she was right; what Harry had said was true. After all, Harry's body wasn't a constructed projection of forces, and minimal materials, designed to reproduce the sensations, actions and reactions of a human body. It was real, and alive. And whenever he possessed Harry like this, so was Bob.

"You were right, Harry, I'm alive," he whispered. It felt oddly vulnerable, especially since now, he couldn't protect Harry with his already-deadness, either. "It's…disquieting."

"You were dead much longer than alive," Megare said. "You will be dead again, when you and Harry…do not need to share his body any more. Do not worry."

"I'm not worried, exactly," Bob murmured. "Harry, do you fancy letting me try to get us up and about?"

//I won't feel it when we break my nose on the door; just try to take it slow, 'cause you're the one who'll have blood all down your face otherwise//

"Thank you for your kind permission, my love," Bob sighed, half-smiling, and turned; he'd done this before, they'd worked at it, but Bob had never been free to try it all on his own.

"Let me help." Megare held out her hands.

Bob shook his head, making himself blink. "No, I need to--"

//Let her help//

"I will open the door," Cruachan said, disappearing.

"Harry insists," Bob smiled, "and it is his body." He held his hands out to take Megare's.

As Megare dropped him into the black hole of sleep that night--she'd helped him get showered without killing himself, too, and he'd needed the help, what with all the half-backward and rushed instructions from Harry (having that much body hair and such a heavy beard was complicated in ways he'd never suspected), he realized Harry had already been asleep for a bit, and what was more, Bob'd been very careful to keep quiet and lie low in their brain so as not to wake him. Well, it was good to know he did that sort of thing more or less automatically. Perhaps Harry would, too.

Presently he realized he was walking down a beach at night--a night with an odd color in the sky; it wasn't quite black, wasn't really a color--and someone was running toward him. Tearing full out, actually, and he realized who it must be, from size, speed and his current situation--the young Harry he saw sometimes when Harry felt frightened or insecure.

Blurred, shapeless figures topped the rise behind the running figure; they didn't really look like anything precise, but he felt an immediate sense of dread when he looked at them. Harry could not see them at all, he realized, and to him it wasn't a sense of dread, it was full-on horror. Bob changed direction, had to dodge at the last minute--and caught Harry, swinging him around.

Harry screamed. "Let me go!"

"Harry, it's me! It's all right!--Here, look at me."

Harry stared into his face in terror and in no recognition.

He'd told Harry himself--the dreams wouldn't be the same; Bob was no longer dead, discarnate but not possessing, welcomed past his barriers. He was only another dreamer now; he couldn't share such beautifully programmed backgrounds and surroundings with Harry. But he'd told Harry his lucid dreaming wasn't completely hopeless, though it was obviously failing him now; Bob's own lucid dreaming, though, was very nearly perfect, and he knew it.

"I'm here to help you. Stay with me." He turned around; the shapes were coming nearer, but Harry wouldn't look at them.

"Look!" He pulled Harry around in front of him, holding him in close to his body, and held him facing the oncoming figures. "Look. They're shapeless, nothings. They're not really even there. They're fears--but formless, meaningless. They can't hurt you." He raised a hand, and the stumbling, crabbing lumps of greyness began to evaporate, turned into something like fog or a miasm of dust, and were suddenly sucked away, straight up, into the sky, until they were nothing, gone.

"Did you do that?" Harry managed to ask, turning his head so he could raise his face and look up at Bob.

"I did," Bob said, nodding reassuringly.

"Are you a genie?" Harry asked.

Bob smiled and smoothed his hair. "Are you still embarassed about that, my darling?"

Harry only looked puzzled, and Bob sighed, opened his eyes again, still smiling, and said "I am not a genie. I am a sorcerer. And I can teach you to be a sorcerer, too."

"Really?"

"Really."

"I thought I was dead," Harry said, sounding distantly puzzled.

"What?" Bob said, taken aback.

"My mother, and my father…and then, my body, my body doesn't have any…feeling…I'm just…floating around. I thought I might be dead."

Gods, Harry was remembering through a twisted filter of dream and bad memories. "And you," he looked up at Bob. "I think I knew you, but you died, too."

"I died," Bob said, "but I didn't leave you. I'll never leave you, if it's within my power to stay…and a very great deal is within my power, now. For example, we're going to find a way to help remind you when you're dreaming, so you can do things like what I just did."

"It's a dream?"

"It's a dream, my darling. You and I are the only real things here. Nothing need be feared, or thought of, unless you want to think of it."

Harry stared into his eyes what seemed a long time, then finally said "We've done this before."

Bob smiled broadly. "Yes, we've done this many times. Control was easier then, but we were dreaming your dreams; and I wasn't resident--well, being partially outside, I could…never mind. It's only that they're my dreams too, now."

"Why do you call me…um. What you call me? Besides my name."

"Because…" Bob dropped to one knee and sat back on his heel, letting the hand that held Harry's shoulder slide down to enlace their fingers. "…because I love you, very much, and I have for a long time."

Harry regarded him seriously, evidently taking this announcement as important. "Who are you?" he asked. He sounded mystefied and fascinated.

"You call me Bob," Bob replied softly, just loud enough to be heard over the breeze. "Occasionally, you call me baby--which, coming from you, I can cope with; but no one else had better ever hear about it."

Harry grinned and chuckled.

Bob went on "I was your teacher, and I can be your teacher again, in a number of ways; just as you will be mine. You were, in a sense, my ward. You were your uncle's ward, legally; but you usually saw him only once a day, at the evening meal; otherwise he simply received my reports."

"So you and I spent a lot of time together."

"Yes, all day, many days, and many nights, too. I had never been interested in children; but I loved you with a passion that made me see it only takes the right child, just as with anyone else. And with me, perhaps, it had to be the right time. You made me…gentler and more tolerant. I had already changed a great deal, over the centuries since I died; you were what it took to make me completely human. And you have made me completely human, for the time; I saw how alarmed you looked just now, when I said I'd died, but I'm not dead any more. You made a choice that brought me to life--and for now, we're closer than we've ever been. We'll stay that way, as long as we need to."

"What will we do then?"

"It won't be that different. I'll…for all practical purposes, be alive again, too. We're not sure just how it will go. We still have to find out. I'll tell you all that later, if I still need to, after you've remembered how to remember."

"How do I do that?"

"Here, sit with me." Bob caused a soft blanket to materialize under and around them on the sand; Harry blinked. "Wow." He went to his knees and touched it, then sat down, and when Bob put an arm around him, he leaned into him.

"The first step is to get you dreaming lucidly; that will help bring you up to date more quickly than anything--I'll only have to make the right suggestions to you, to inspire the correct associations. All right, I need you to pick something and focus on it, like the horizon, or a patch of the sky, or the--"

"You?" Harry wondered.

"No, my darling." He kissed Harry's head, half-expecting Harry to leap for his mouth, as the fully-cognizant adult Harry in an earlier-style body had a disquieting tendency to do, but this one just smiled a little. Bob continued "I'm part of the dream, this time, but still a bit too real; you can't control my appearance, or much of anything else about me, so I need you to focus on something else. Then we'll work on making it look very sharp and clear, and then on changing the way it looks, all right?"

"I can do that?"

"Yes, you can. You've done it before. I've put you through a numblingly long list of different kinds of visualization exercises; you'll have no problem. Your reflexes will remember, as you work at it."

Harry nodded mutely, and scanned around, looking for something to isolate; he pointed. "How about that dead tree at the top…the top of the…"

"It's a small rise, and the tree isn't dead; focus hard. There are leaves; you can just see them in the light."

"…there are. Barely…"

"Yes, but they're there. Now, then, we're going to make the tree leaf out more. Focus on it again, see it very clearly…"

WAKE UP

Bob jerked all over, as though an electric shock had run through him--as one might have had, he thought, panting in reaction, as he felt Harry's agitation.

//I've been awake for something like fifteen minutes, but I can't be sure because I haven't been able to so much as open my eyes. Do you think we can put control on an up-for-grabs footing when we sleep//

"We can't do that or we'll sleepwalk. I'm so very sorry, beloved. We'll have to find some way for you to signal Megare."

//Megare//

Bob took a deep breath, let it out, and sat up; lying to his left, apparently still asleep, was Megare, with her arms around the pillow and her face mostly buried in it. "You didn't think she'd leave us, did you?"

//No, I just…hadn't seen her, I forgot//

Megare was now waking up more, blinking and being so surrounded by hair she couldn't see and trying to sit up. Bob reached over to give her a hand and knocked her over onto her side.

//You moron//

"I'm terribly sorry, Megare--I forgot that even Harry has a little trouble with how long his arms and legs are, first thing in the morning," Bob said, and realized that the twitching Megare was doing under the blanket of her hair was cackling.

She shoved herself upright. "You sit there. I will move, for now."

"That sounds like an excellent idea. Harry, do you remember dreaming last night?"

//Um…yeah, a little, you were there…you were there most of the night, I think. It wasn't like//

"No, it won't be like sharing your dreams with me; I was dreaming, too. The difference last night was that I was dreaming lucidly and you weren't. I spent quite a while working with you on that."

//Ah, Bob, you've always been so much better at that kinda thing than I am, you don't really think//

"I think it can't hurt to try. And you did tell me that you would rather spend time with me in a dream than have the usual anxiety-inspired dreams you tend toward. Something about Blue Meanies and no pants?"

//…I was a kid, wasn't I? In the dream. You made…you made the pain go away//

"Harry?"

//I love you. Thanks//

"No problem at all, my darling," Bob said quietly.

//I haven't slept that well…since the first dream, the one where we touched, finally//

Bob closed his eyes and whispered "That was an exceptionally satisfying experience for me, as well."

//In the dream, last night--I didn't remember much of anything. A lot of my life experience just wasn't there. It was just me there in the dream, my memory was…cut off, it happens a lot//

"It's not an uncommon experience in dreams," Bob said. "I don't think you regained your memory during our work last night, but you were making changes in the surroundings on your own."

//I remember that, too…but I think I'm going to miss dreaming the other way. Though I admit, sometimes--like the time our toboggan flew off the track--I'd wake up wiped//

Bob chuckled.

"Asleep again? We must feed Harry."

Bob opened his eyes to see Megare standing in front of them with a red silk kimono-style bathrobe on, holding out a tray with toast, eggs, coffee and juice. Bob's eyes landed on the coffee and he made a slight face.

//Bob, you are gonna drink that coffee or you're gonna find out what the withdrawal is like. Remember the fifteenth century//

"God forbid." Bob took the tray.

That day was much as the first had been. They started just walking, getting used to it. Everything was done under Megare's eye; when Bob asked if there wasn't anything she needed to be tending to in her own doings--Harry was feeling a bit guilty--she told them that what needed to be done immediately was being handled by Cruachan. "I consider to get a hearth-imp like him myself," she said. "I have never had house-spirit, as no wizard does. Our magic is too strong; a house-spirit cannot thrive in it, our houses do not make them. But he has been doing well."

"He's the house-spirit of magic workers--strong ones," Bob reminded her. "And we haven't been doing much in that line, though you have so many standing spells running I suppose that would do it if anything could--"

He tripped again; Megare caught him midair, and raised him upright again, from across the room.

"Megare, I was wondering--why were you on the counter to handle those heavy pots and baskets? They were hot, too. You could have dactylated-- "

"I just made I dunno how many pierogi that way! Dozens! Hundreds! All at once. You did not see where everything, ingredients, cooking objects, pierogies--fell where I drop them?"

"Oh, my. You'd worn out the muscles then. Yes, the kitchen was quite a sight."

"Like you say, pots heavy, and hot. Stupid to do, when my mind-hands might slip."

"Well, the pierogies were delicious. I'm going to let go of the wall."

//Are you really sure you wanna do that//

"Harry, Megare is watching; we can't fall. And there's nothing in the middle of the room there to fall over. I'll just walk to the other door."

"I watch, Harry," Megare said, with a smile meant to reassure, but she seemed a bit wistful in general.

//Don't kill us//

"I shan't. Now let me concentrate. " Bob let go of the doorframe and started carefully out across the rug. The window that looked out on Greece, thousands of miles away, was partially mirrored by the lights inside, and Harry's silhouette looked like he was walking a tightrope, a bit.

//Don't flap your arms so much, you look like a pissed-off ostrich//

Bob blurted a laugh and promptly lost control; Megare had him again, setting him gently on his feet.

"Don't make extra work for Megare, Harry," Bob muttered. "And keep in mind that it's your body we're using here, not mine."

//And you're making me looked like crazed, flightless fowl//

"My darling, you strongly resemble a gawkily tall child a great deal of the time anyway. It's adorable. Don't be ashamed, we can flap all we like. No one will care."

//You know, there are all kinds of ways to kick your ass from in here//

"But it'll only be kicking my ass to spite your own, since you're in there, too."

"Boys," Megare said tiredly. "Not to bitch at each other. Pay attention. Learn to walk. I think maybe you should be barefoot. I know you want to speed up the learn, but..."

Bob sighed as he started to go over sideways, flailing, and Megare had to steady him in midair yet again. "She's right, I think. These boots…almost as bad as the rest of your taste in clothing, not to mention heavy as--"

//You had BETTER NOT start dressing me in what you were wearing. I do not do velvet pants and gathered lawn sleeves. God, you looked more like an angel than Tameriel does. Think closely about that statement before you thank me//

"Actually I was just going to comment on how interesting it is that you knew how to properly describe a gathered lawn sleeve."

//I will tie your nuts in a knot while you're asleep// Bob was surrounded by a feeling of trying not to break out laughing. Initially it wasn't his, but then his own joined it.

"You'll be the one who wakes up to it."

Harry began to sing, loudly and badly//Doooo your ears hang low, do they wobble to and fro, can you tie them in a knot, can you tie them in a bow//

"Why do I get the feeling the word 'ears' is a euphemism in this particular ditty?"

//…can you throw 'em over your shoulder like a continental soldier, do your EARS--HANG-- LOWWWW//

"Bloody hell," Bob sighed.

//Of course, you look hot in the gathered lawn sleeves, angel or not. I would look like an idiot and I'd rather skin a roadkill to cover my ass//

"I thought you had."

//Those are my favorite jeans//

"I know. God help me."

//This is easy. I could do this at seven//

"Your father was an illusionist, " Bob said, and the three werelights scattered and fizzled out again. Megare, he hoped, wouldn't mind their plundering the room into half-light; they weren't really ready to try summoning their own, since that was an extremely simple magic that was usually done by reflex, like touch-typing. Or, maybe, more like moving one's muscles in any simple pattern, like the one for walking, that didn't work--they knew this for a fact--if you thought about exactly what moved after what. Reflex was something Bob couldn't afford to try to work by, the mental components Bob provided clashing with the body-memory of the neuronal components inherent in the body parts being moved, and in the brain itself, which was Harry's, not Bob's. He wondered if this would count to the ancient Irish as the highest form of hospitality, and realized he was getting punchy--his construction body didn't feel the changes wrought by different kinds of stress nearly as much as a real one, and this was becoming…stressful. He sighed. "I thought it might be easier with the werelights; they're easy to see and nearly weightless, and--"

//And that's the problem; you need to feel the weight, when you catch and when you toss. That's how your other hand knows where to be//

Bob sighed. "Very well. What would be more appropriate? "

//Um…see those crystals// A sea shell full of small crystal spheres sat on one of the couch endtables. Bob went and, de rigeur, knocked the thing onto the carpet; not even blinking, he scooped the spheres into a rough mass together.

//You got used to that a lot faster than I thought you would//

"It's quite a logical idea, my darling. Better to aim, and slam your intended object to a location of your choice, than watch it fly off randomly and break on something. Three?"

//Only three, and only because it has to be more than two eventually//

"I appreciate your confidence, my love." Bob selected three spheres of highly visible coloration.

They went for it again; Bob ended up increasing his hand-eye coordination substantially, but he did it via having to chase little crystal spheres across the carpet and get them back into his hands in the starting position. Nothing was successfully juggled that afternoon, but the work in using Harry's body to get around a little more precisely than basic walking was beneficial anyway.

"Very good," Megare purred. "That is very good…hold that…ah!"

Bob grunted as he and Harry hit the floor mat like a ton of bricks. If the floors had had a hollow space beneath, that would have been a very loud whump, Bob thought, waiting for the aftershock to die down. The things one forgot in a few centuries...he wished he at least had Harry's reflexes back.

//Very loud// Harry agreed.

"What happened?" Megare asked, kneeling next to him and examining him quickly.

"A back muscle spasmed," Bob said. "I think we should start with some simpler asanas."

"Perhaps to start with mudras," Megare sighed. "You will need hands to their best, after all. Very important. Get less hurt. Spells will work."

"I don't think a mudra ever made anyone fall over by itself, true," Bob said, struggling back to a sitting position. "And incorrect direct dactylation would be disastrous…I never realized just how bloody long Harry is."

Megare smiled. "He is tall, but not that tall. I have known many taller men. And you are not short. Even one inch more, it feeling very long to you, not your body."

"True," Bob sighed.

Megare helped him set up, then tried to help him get into lotus, which for Harry's body was not a strain; then she had to kind of put him into lotus when it became apparent that Bob's level of control was putting him in danger of kicking himself in the crotch with his heel. She bent his legs manually and moved them until his feet were tucked up properly on his thighs.

//You're not gonna spring either of my adductors, are you//

"Only if you distract me while I'm sitting like this. Very well, milady; the asanas of the hands. Where shall we start?"

Harry gave the impression of sighing, but said nothing.