ICLYLM chapter 34: Walking Dreams

A/N: Y'all reader/reviewers are making my day. Thanks. Elanor: I don't have much control over the font in ff.net. When I convert a Wordperfect document to HTML I get what you see here (but I lose italics, bold, and underline, and get two hard spaces for every one... you learn how to compose for Html conversion in WP) When I convert from Microsoft word to a txt document I get the big letters. My guess is that you'll have to experiment with the options your word processing program offers that are accepted by ff.net. Fortunately, if it looks horrible you can always replace it. Good luck!



Dumbledore had kept the service brief (it was over before 9:30) and had spread the ashes from a handsome wooden box onto the lake so that no one could sneak a sample away for their Death Eater parents to test. All of the professors, including Snape's substitute, had attended. So, also, had nearly all of Taylor's students, some of their friends, and several curious students who had little connection to Professor Taylor at all. If they had been hoping for an explanation for the professor's death beyond "a tragic and unexpected health crisis" they were disappointed.

Dumbledore gazed out over the lake until the last of the ashes disappeared. He then turned and headed slowly and somberly for the castle, wooden box in hand. McGonagall and Flitwick walked on either side of him as the students and assorted professors scattered. Lupin made directly for the forest.

He nearly tripped over an energetic Dobby who was waiting behind a bush with several house elves from the kitchen. "Doctor James says Dobby help Professor Lupin:" the elf squeaked. "Other elves know woods very well, professor, they help too" Dobby announced, nodding. "Doctor says if Dobby or Professor finds anything at all he must know IMMEDIATELY. Doctor says this is most important."

"Thank you, Dobby. Hagrid will join us in a moment and we'll get back to work."

Jeffrey Barnes had settled himself in a sitting position on top of the extra bed and his father had levitated the unconscious Phoebe onto his lap. More physical contact made a better bond and this was an important one, to say the least. Jeffrey shifted a bit, laid his hands on Phoebe's shoulder and insinuated himself into his patient.

She wasn't the first unconscious person with whom he'd bonded as a healer. What he saw was not what he expected, however. The first thing he encountered was the sensation of thick, swirling fog... that must be the injection, he reasoned as he pushed himself in deeper. After a time he felt himself drop and he suddenly seemed to be in a very convoluted corridor filled with doors. "A classic dream image" he said to himself. He expected to move past it, but remained in the corridor.

Finally, he decided to try walking forward. Strangely enough, He was able to. He hadn't expected things to be physically realistic in someone else's psyche. He reached out a hand toward the first door to which he came and felt it close around the cold brass knob. This was odd, very odd, indeed. This was more like walking through someone's dream world than scanning through a healing bond.

He pulled on the doorknob and peered inside. The room was a jumble of mismatched objects, precariously piled and stacked together. He shut the door and moved on to the next. The door handle was cut glass and even colder than the brass one. He opened this door and felt an uncomfortable chill. He was looking at a household tableau... probably from Phoebe's childhood. It seemed ordinary enough but a sinister feeling emanated from the figures in it. Phoebe was not there. He shut the door rather hard and moved away. He moved to a door with an iron sliding bolt. He slammed it shut very quickly after opening it. Malfoy, Voldemort, and another man he didn't know were in there, but Phoebe was not.

Jeffrey couldn't tell if he was in Phoebe's dream world or if he'd entered some sort of manifestation of her emotions. He did have the very strong feeling, however, that he would find Phoebe behind one of these doors. He knew that's what he needed to do. He lost count of the number of doors he opened in the strange corridor but, at long last, he opened a very heavy wooden door and found himself facing Phoebe.

She was sitting in an empty, gray room. Her arms were crossed and she was gazing at Jeffrey with a very angry look.

"Can't you just leave me alone, Jeffrey?"

"I'm trying to help you, Phoebe," Jeffrey countered earnestly.

"I didn't ask for your help" she snapped.

"No, you didn't. But I'm here anyway," Jeffrey said as warmly as possible.

"Again, I didn't ask for your help. I doubt I'm interested in the help you're inclined to give."

"What kind of help are you interested in?" Jeffrey asked.

Phoebe rolled her eyes, "The kind that stops my heart."

Jeffrey paused a moment, then asked, carefully, "which one?"

Phoebe narrowed her eyes and him and said, "both."

"I don' t think that's the best solution," Jeffrey said, "I know things look bad now-"

Phoebe cut him off, "Yes, you do, Jeffrey! I heard you opening and shutting the doors out there, you know exactly how bad things look, how bad they ARE."

"Yes, there's so much pain. But, Phoebe I know there's good out there, too-"

"Oh, really? How many doors did you open?"

"A lot. I lost count." Jeffrey said, nervous.

"I did, too. But I kept track up until twenty-six. Did you find anything good behind any of those doors?"

Jeffrey shifted trying to think how to NOT answer. Finally, he just told the truth. "No, I didn't. But," he added with a sudden inspiration, "How do we know this corridor is all there is? Maybe this is just the one with the crap and there's another one somewhere. There has to be, Phoebe, because I didn't see Severus behind any of those doors."

Phoebe winced at the mention of Severus' name but then Jeffrey sensed that a barrier had somehow fallen. He waited.

"He's probably there, Jeffrey," Phoebe said in a voice now devoid of hostility but filled with an unspeakable weariness, "You just didn't look in enough doors."

"If I did, what would I see?" Jeffrey asked.

"I don't know," came the soft reply, "I'm afraid to think."

"Phoebe some of it would be good, I know it. You love this man. He loves you. That's a good thing, you know."

"I know," she said in the same small voice, "but- but.."

"But, what?" Jeffrey asked carefully

"But I think he's dead," she eked out. "That's what I'm afraid is behind his door."

Phoebe was looking past him and Jeffrey turned... the wall and door behind him had become less substantial, less solid. He could see back into the corridor and he now noticed a door he had not seen earlier. He couldn't believe he had missed it. It was plain but looked strong and true. It radiated something that said "Severus" even to him. He turned back to Phoebe.

"You haven't looked behind his door?" he asked

"I can't."

"Because?"

"Because I know what I'll find there! Jeffrey he's gone. We both know it. If he's not back by now he's gone and it's my fault. How can I look at him... dead? I just want it to be over before I have to see that!"

"But we don't know that he's dead!" Jeffrey insisted, "Phoebe I've known him for a long time and he's come out of many a hopeless and dangerous situation!"

Phoebe held his gaze for a moment and Jeffrey thought he had finally gotten through. But then she dropped her head and began shaking it back and forth and rocking on her chair. He knew that, even here, she was closing in on herself.

"Phoebe!" Jeffrey said sharply. He got no response. "Phoebe, listen to me, look at me, Dammit!" Nothing. He strode forward and put his hands on her shoulders. "Phoebe!" he said sharply but she did not react in the slightest. She couldn't hear him.

James Barnes had laid a hand lightly on both his son and the patient. He did not intend to bond with either of them, but he wanted to keep track of how each of their vital signs were progressing. A short time into the bond he felt his son's heart rate increase. Slowly however, it began to return to normal, then it rose slightly again. At this same time Phoebe's heart rate went up. Ah, the healer reasoned, Jeffrey has made some sort of contact, some progress.

As he watched Phoebe's heart rate and respiration both continued to increase until he was sure the woman's heart was fairly hammering in her chest. James was just considering joining the bond to help calm her heart rate when his son's began to skyrocket again. James closed his eyes and tried, first, to bond with Phoebe. He could not. He tried to restrain his confusion and fear as he tried to bond with his son. He felt himself enter into Jeffrey's systems but this was not like a normal healer's bond. His perception of Jeffrey's physical systems was normal. But his sense of Jeffrey, himself, was missing. He felt it was far away somehow and surrounded by... something to do with Phoebe. Struggling to remain calm, James slowed his son's heart and breathing and diffused some warm, healing energy into his systems before pulling himself out.

James put his head in his hand. He knew of this sort of thing, of course, but it was so rare. But everything he'd felt and seen supported it. Damn Jeffrey's precocious talents! His son had somehow managed to go dreamwalking with his patient. He had put himself in her subconscious mind. Without proper training, Jeffrey might not know how to get back out. James needed to think hard. There had to be a way to guide his son out.

A rattling sort of breath caught his attention and he looked up at the patient, then quickly laid a hand on her. Her rapid heart rate and respiration were swiftly moving the other way. This was not good, not good at all.