She looks to the other girl, with glowing eyes and a sneer across her face. Madoka would recognize the face anywhere, even now, even when her face is not quite right.

She takes a step back, putting a few feet of space between them. Just as quickly, Homura steps forward, eyes cold and locked directly on Madoka. Her frown deepens.

There is no denying who she is. Try as she might, she cannot separate the smiling girl with red glasses and braids in her hair from the angry girl edging closer and closer towards her. What she will do then, Madoka cannot be sure. Though she was a goddess once, her body again feels frail and weak, mortal - so very mortal, as though she will fall apart at a single touch.

Her memories are useless now. Universe after universe, life after life, and nothing can save her or guide her decisions on what to do.

"Homura?" Madoka's voice squeaks near the end.

There is a flash in her eyes, quick and warm.

Familiar.

So very familiar.

The look fills Madoka with an unexpected warmth, but it melts away when that same hard, cold look again crosses Homura's eyes.

The look seems to hold all the anger in the world, in the very universe; it used to be that the look was solely saved for Kyuubey, but Homura does not even turn her head to look at the Incubator sitting behind her.

Homura's gaze tightens on her. Perhaps she sees Madoka's soul. Maybe she is looking right through her.

(Or maybe Homura really is just looking at her. Perhaps by now, Madoka muses, she should be used to it.)