Disclaimer: All characters and locations belong to their respective owners.
A/N: Who wants to bet the film trilogy - especially the one with the brand new story - will be more messed up than the anime? X3
Scatterbrain
There are bodies floating in the water: men bodies, women bodies, child bodies, animal bodies, polluting the air with their putrid odors, faces turned up to a sour sky. Skeletons of charred vehicles clot the streets and fallen buildings line the horizon, leaning and jutting like candles awkwardly placed on a birthday cake.
She sucks in a breath, deep, languid, tasting on her tongue an assortment of uncanny flavors: copper, gunpowder, ozone, static, smoke, rain, plaster, fecal matter. And it's…not bad, actually. Sure it's wet…and rank…too thick and heavy to breathe in all at once lest the stomach decides to empty itself of the contents in contains…but it's different. It's better than inhaling exhaust fumes or fish stink from the river.
She looks off to the side, clucks her tongue in disapproval. "I wish you'd wake up already. It's nice outside and you're off somewhere in la-la land. Didn't your mother ever tell you not to sleep too much? Waking up all stiff and groggy, that's no way to start the day." She nudges a foot against the girl's ribs. "C'mon, Madoka. Wakey wakey it's daybreak-y~"
Madoka doesn't answer.
"Madoka. Wake. UP." She roughly kicks her, sprays her with a jet of sullied water.
Madoka doesn't answer.
"Fine. Be that way. Don't complain when you have a sore head." She huffs a dramatic sigh and goes back to staring at the ruins.
Everything is still. Not a breeze stirs. The birds don't sing, the dogs don't bark. The streets are empty of their congested commute. Far, far away something explodes.
Other than that, everything is peaceful. Just the way it should be.
She looks down at the shield strapped to her arm. It's dented, riddled with cracks, and falling apart; not even duct tape or super glue can fit the pieces back together.
"You're still here?" a familiar voice dissolves the reverie slipping over her like a veil. "I figured you'd be gone by now."
She looks behind her. She isn't surprised – nor is she upset – at who she sees. "Oh it's just you, Kyubey. Nah, I haven't left yet. I'm just hanging out with Madoka, you know? Madoka's asleep, though, and I really wished she'd wake up and keep me company. I mean I know she's prone to be a bit of an – whatcha call it – insomniac, but I never heard of an insomniac to sleep so deeply. I don't think it was ever that bad for Madoka." She stares at her face, pale and peaceful and flawless. Her heart warms, swells with the ache of love. "I guess she's just having one of those days."
Kyubey looks at Madoka and for awhile he stares at her. "Homura," he says after a sufficient amount of time, "Madoka's dead."
The tenderness in Homura's expression is wiped clean like a computer virus, replaced by the sharp decline in her brow and the hard clench in her jaw. "No she isn't."
"Yes, she is."
"If she was dead I would have buried her, and Madoka is not dead. She's just sleeping a fitful sleep."
"Too fitful if you ask me. She's going to decay soon. What will you do then?"
She clicks her tongue. "You're going deaf, cabbit."
Kyubey doesn't say anything.
Homura sits down and lays her hand on top of Madoka's. It's cold, smooth like the skin of a mannequin. She takes Madoka's hand in both of her own and rubs it, squeezes. "I'm going to wait for her to wake up. You can stay if you want."
"You're not going back?" he asks.
"Back? Back where?"
"In time. You always go back when things don't go your way. Look around you." He indicates the city ruins with a tilt of his head. "Mitakihara is gone. Your friends were turned and eaten by the Witches. And Madoka…Madoka lost too much blood."
"I'm not going to repeat myself, stupid cabbit."
"So you won't go back?"
"I will never leave Madoka. She's my friend. Friends don't abandon each other. I'll wait for her as long as it takes." She smiles down at her. "I'll always be with you, Madoka. Together forever, just like in the movies."
Kyubey sighs. He diverts his gaze to the milk-curdled sky. Among the clouds like a UFO, a black star sparkles. A star with a wide red grin and antique gears gyrating rust and mildew from dark, forsaken spaces. "If that's what you want, Homura."
"It is," and she brushes those pink strands from Madoka's eyes. "It's all I've ever wanted."
