He saw her sometimes. Devoid of the dementors. When he was particularly weak. Particularly tired.
He saw all of them.
Hallucinations- visions- whatever you wanted to call them.
His mother raving about his inadequacies. His brother confessing to Marlene's murder. Blaming him for the path he had been forced down. Lily, crying over the loss of her baby boy; who now had to face the world alone. Peter laughing about all of it; taunting, jeering. Remus was a peculiar visitor when he came. Sirius was never sure what angle he'd take. Sometimes he believed that Sirius had murdered Peter and sold out James and Lily. He yelled for hours about how he should have known. About how Sirius was just like his family. Just like his brother. Just like his parents. Sometimes he knew the truth. Sometimes he knew everything. He would come and stare at Sirius with sad eyes. Eyes that were pitying; because it was Sirius's fault and they both knew it. Eyes that silently blamed him and silences that said more than words ever could. It was to this Remus that he spoke the most to. This Remus that he pleaded with and begged with. Out of all his visitors he spoke to Remus the most.
His mother was easy enough to ignore. He'd had years of dealing with her shit. Regulus was tougher to sit through. Because what defence did he have? Everything his phantom brother said was true. He apologised to the darkness over and over again; but Regulus was never satisfied. Sometimes the spectre Regulus told Sirius how it was that he'd died. That his body had been abandoned in some ditch somewhere, cold and alone and utterly forgotten. Sirius tried his best to ignore his brother when he came; but it was infinitely harder than his mother. Especially when he seemed to know exactly what to say to break Sirius and crumble him under his heel.
Lily was a mess every time she came. Bawling crying and begging to see Harry. Moaning through tears for her little boy. Sirius couldn't even bring himself to look at her. Still, her sobs echoed in his ears long after she'd departed.
Peter was surprisingly the most bearable of them all. He passed his time imagining the various different ways he would one day kill the little worm. He didn't even hear what the rat said to him. There had been once, when he bragged about killing Marlene too, that he had broken his silence. But not since, no matter how much Peter went into detail on her murder.
But Remus. Remus was his last hope. Remus had to understand. Because if Remus stilled blamed him, then his worst fears were confirmed.
He was to blame.
And then came James.
Infinitely harder than all of those before him. He stood still, looking down at Sirius through red-rimmed eyes. Eyes that showed he'd been crying; but that refused to drop tears in front of Sirius. Or maybe he just couldn't cry anymore.
"I couldn't Sirius. I couldn't get to her. I couldn't save them."
His voice was quieter than the others, as broken as Sirius's own voice sounded now. And it twisted his insides so painfully he was sure he would explode. Because James was different to all the world. James was loyal. James had never let him down. It was them against everyone. And he, Sirius, had cost him everything. Had convinced him to trust Wormtail and had cost him Lily. Lily that he'd loved since first year. Because that was the kind of person James was. All in. So trusting and open. And he'd trusted Sirius.
He'd cost him Harry. His new born son. The child he worshipped as much as his mother. More if it were even possible. James was supposed to be the better of them, the one who got his happy ending.
The one who deserved it.
He just sat and listened when James came. Unable to say anything that would make his friend forgive him. He knew James would. But he didn't want it. He didn't deserve it. The fact that James would forgive him if he asked was the exact reason he knew he didn't deserve it. James was so much better than all of them. And Sirius had never deserved him.
He spoke with varying degrees to each of them. Sometimes he stayed silent completely. But there was only one person who remained completely silent back. One person, who for twelve years plagued his darkest nights and never breathed a word.
She sat across from him, on the rugged cold ground; her gaze searing into his. Her expression was unreadable. She never made a sound. And he sat enthralled for every one of her visits. For all of the abuse of the rest of his imaginary guests, it was this silent figure that would actually drive him into madness.
He physically ached to hear her speak. To answer the thousands of questions that had burned in his mind since her murder. To talk to her again. Even if what she had to say was terrible. Even if she just confirmed his worst nightmares. Even if she said it had been Regulus. Or Peter. Even if she said she'd never loved him. Or had moved on. Even if she said she blamed him.
He needed something from her. Not knowing was eating away at his mind. This silent statue was torture beyond anything he'd ever experienced. Having her so close and not being able to touch her or hear her- it was a constant reminder that he didn't have her at all. And he never would again.
He had nothing but the darkness for company. In the beginning he had refused to converse with the ghosts that spoke to him, haunting his every breath. He knew they weren't real. He would not give in. Would not give up. But as time wore on, his resolve relented. Was it so bad to talk to them? As long as he knew they weren't real? As long as where it mattered; he understood what was really happening here?