generally, his discipline is such that he need not concern himself with such things. he rarely sleeps deeply enough to fall into subconscious imaginings, and even when he does — mastery of genjutsu is preceded by mastery of self. he does not have the luxury of dreaming about the massacre — if he said anything, or woke in a state of distress, there would be no explaining why to kisame. akatsuki work in teams because they are meant to be a knife at one another's throats, and kisame's blade would bite deeply.
but the fight in which he saved jim left him on the knife's edge of exhaustion, body ravaged by illness and the mission's malnutrition, and in the wake of the attack he — slipped.
the memories are a flood, and though he is only aware of blue's presence in hindsight he feels horrified at the thought of what he's now seen. how much, how long? it's impossible to say. itachi, who as a concession had allowed himself to sleep in the cellar beneath the medical clinic, wakes drenched in sweat, gasping for air so violently it triggers another coughing fit. his ribs are a too-tight band around his lungs and blood dapples his palms as he coughs, shoulders trembling as he fights to suppress it. the last thing he needs is someone hearing him.
he does manage to quell it, eventually. but with that dealt with, he now has to force his thoughts to blue. he considers reaching out mentally, discards it. instead, he heaves himself ill-advisedly to his feet, one hand along the wall. his vision is still more darkness than light, but memory serves where sight cannot — he knows where blue is, and goes to him.
it's a slow process. every few meters his condition forces him to stop, lean into the nearest wall and catch his breath. but eventually —
he does not know why he came. what he intended to say. there had been some distant thought that perhaps he should simply kill him — he could very well make it look like an accident, the natural course of blue's life at its end. but as he stands there, oriented towards the sound of blue's breathing, he finds he's too worn down even to threaten him. he already knows blue won't say anything to anyone else, it isn't his way. trusting in that is — difficult, but not impossible. and itachi has always done impossible things.
instead: ）
What did you see?
（ it's a tired, curious rasp. it's not accusatory. rationally, he knows it's no more blue's fault than his own, and he is too exhausted to be angry about it. he just has to know before he decides what should be done. ）
no subject
generally, his discipline is such that he need not concern himself with such things. he rarely sleeps deeply enough to fall into subconscious imaginings, and even when he does — mastery of genjutsu is preceded by mastery of self. he does not have the luxury of dreaming about the massacre — if he said anything, or woke in a state of distress, there would be no explaining why to kisame. akatsuki work in teams because they are meant to be a knife at one another's throats, and kisame's blade would bite deeply.
but the fight in which he saved jim left him on the knife's edge of exhaustion, body ravaged by illness and the mission's malnutrition, and in the wake of the attack he — slipped.
the memories are a flood, and though he is only aware of blue's presence in hindsight he feels horrified at the thought of what he's now seen. how much, how long? it's impossible to say. itachi, who as a concession had allowed himself to sleep in the cellar beneath the medical clinic, wakes drenched in sweat, gasping for air so violently it triggers another coughing fit. his ribs are a too-tight band around his lungs and blood dapples his palms as he coughs, shoulders trembling as he fights to suppress it. the last thing he needs is someone hearing him.
he does manage to quell it, eventually. but with that dealt with, he now has to force his thoughts to blue. he considers reaching out mentally, discards it. instead, he heaves himself ill-advisedly to his feet, one hand along the wall. his vision is still more darkness than light, but memory serves where sight cannot — he knows where blue is, and goes to him.
it's a slow process. every few meters his condition forces him to stop, lean into the nearest wall and catch his breath. but eventually —
he does not know why he came. what he intended to say. there had been some distant thought that perhaps he should simply kill him — he could very well make it look like an accident, the natural course of blue's life at its end. but as he stands there, oriented towards the sound of blue's breathing, he finds he's too worn down even to threaten him. he already knows blue won't say anything to anyone else, it isn't his way. trusting in that is — difficult, but not impossible. and itachi has always done impossible things.
instead: ）
What did you see?
（ it's a tired, curious rasp. it's not accusatory. rationally, he knows it's no more blue's fault than his own, and he is too exhausted to be angry about it. he just has to know before he decides what should be done. ）