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Some days were better than most.
Granted they weren't the best; with the sickness continuing it's steady progression and time beginning to take it's toll, the good days would be bad for anyone else. It's only by a stroke of luck that his partner from Kiri understood that he would do the heavy lifting while he, the sick one, was to be a last resort to the weakened enemy if he needed to step in at any time.
However with it only growing worse the symptoms and his psyche seemed to follow suit.
He was after all a traitor to Konoha as well as a kinslayer. His reasoning may have been for the greater good but that did little to stop the guilt; to have destroyed everything to protect a village that saw him as the lowest of the low. Normally he was able to handle it, especially since he was surrounded by other criminals who wouldn't hesitate to take him out if it meant the betterment of their own cause.
On nights like this though, alone as Kisame was out on a solo mission and left alone to his own devices his mind and his sickness would get to him.
To be an Uchiha with such a sickness combined with the burden of the Mangekyo Sharingan would have made a lesser man go insane. When he wasn't alone it was easier to tell what was a trick of his mind and what was real. That's what his partner was there for after all and it was always appreciated that when both weren't assigned a mission, Kisame would stay with him to ensure he didn't wallow in his own self loathing.
In times like tonight though? It felt like he was going insane.
It always starts out as if little shadow creatures were just out of the corner of his eyes. Out of habit or because he was so out of it he always found himself turning to follow them. Sometimes they disappear the moment he moves. Other times...
Tonight was one of those other times. His eyes were aching, blurring in and out as focus as the sickness and the sharingan were slowly eating away at his sight as he could make out the shape of someone in the corner of his room. The familiar fuzziness of a fever raging under his skin reminds him this wasn't real; that this was yet another night where he was plagued by the past.
"Itachi..."
Itachi closed his eyes, feeling the pain behind them pulsing through his skull. He should have asked to go on a mission with one of the other pairs or at least went to Sasori for some kind of sleep medicine.
There's a phantom touch that was so agonizingly familiar to his forehead. He knew it wasn't real, knew his mind and his eyes were being cruel again as the past sneaks up on him once more. He breathed with a shaky wheeze, coughing as he tastes copper on his tongue and tried to turn away.
"Itachi...why are you so quiet?"
He cursed silently when he thought lips pressed to his forehead.
It was like when he was younger; before everything fell apart. When he had come down with a bad cold and Shisui...
...Yes now he remembered. It had gone just like this with Shisui kissing his forehead and touching him; even though he knew it was a trick of his mind. Even while awake and sick his eyes and mind wished to pay tricks on him. He tries to ignore the illusion of comfort; he wasn't really being touched or spoken to. His dearest and precious one wasn't standing over him or taking care of him.
No one was taking care of him, his partner was away. It was so tempting to pretend, to lose himself in a waking dream. To seek comfort even when he knows how stupid it was to do so.
"Oh Itachi...you're sick aren't you? I didn't mean to disturb you...do you want water? Miso soup?"
Itachi looked up with his hazy eyes; making out the familiar shape, the outline of someone he wished was alive. His vision was blurring in and out as he tried to swallow with his throat dry, making out the messy soft locks and familiar pale face.
It felt so real...it felt so so real to have that hand hold his cheek right now. He could remember how it felt then, nice and cool against his cheek. He remembers the callouses and how they felt against his cheek. He remembers how gentle Shisui's voice was speaking to him when he lay there back in his home. Back when things were simpler, when they weren't being torn between duty and family. When he was still able to take care of Sasuke.
"Itachi..."
"You're...not...real..." he whispered hoarsely, "You are not...real...why must...you torture me...?"
The phantom of memory slowly knelt down before him and seems to lean in close. Just like when he was alive, he would have pushed his hair back, would have peppered his forehead with cool kisses and he would feel that smile against his clammy skin-
"...you couldn't save anyone."
For a moment when his eyes focused, he could see his face as clear as if he was standing there in the cramped dark room of the Akatsuki. Itachi feels his stomach churn at the sight of Shisui's empty red eye sockets with blood gushing down his smiling face. He was wet just like the day he died.
"You couldn't do anything I asked of you, Itachi...but that's okay...I know you'll make up for it. One way or another you will make up for your failure..."
Itachi closed his eyes and turned away; in an instant there is nothing in front of him as he pushes his face into the pillow with a harsh cough. His eyes become flooded in the color red that mixes with his own tears. He felt his chest hurting as he pulled the pillow closer in an attempt to ensure there would be no more illusions. He can't do anymore illusions like this.
He can only hope Kisame returns from his mission soon.