Last Seen Tethered

by shahanshah

Homura had never been somebody to lie to herself, which was why she wondered how she had managed to delude herself into thinking that a world without Madoka could ever be construed as some sort of happy ending.

1. Chapter 1

LAST SEEN TETHERED

-x-

Homura traced the swinging of the pendulum—her pendulum, because she'd decided to erect the thing one last time in the center of her apartment's living room—with her eyes. There were a dozen actions that had been carved into her mind by time's unremitting force. This was one of them, and Homura was all right with keeping the pendulum up, but there were still some things she realized that she didn't want to do anymore. She didn't want to place her soul gem on her living room table and watch as grief seeds drained corruption out of it, she didn't want to break into JSDF bases to steal bombs and rifles, and she didn't want to speak the words "health coordinator" ever again.

Something was grossly unfair, Homura thought. She didn't know exactly what.

Poets could pontificate on how April was the cruelest month, breeding roses out of the dead land, but she knew that April was the cruelest month because it was the month when everyone died.

They're not roses, they're lilacs.

Kyouko's reaction hadn't affected her much. It had been routine, and while Miki Sayaka's death was regrettable…

Homura bit down hard on her lower lip, almost hard enough to break the fragile skin. Before Madoka there had been dozens of things that would make her cry, like serial dramas, romantic manga, being rejected by everyone she had ever known except for one girl with short pink hair, a cheerful voice and an understanding smile—

And after Madoka she was the only thing that could make her cry. To shed tears for anything else seemed like a betrayal. But now, that wasn't the case.

Not a monster after all, then.

It would become May in a week. She knew that after Sayaka died, in those timelines when Sakura Kyouko didn't die a meaningless death fighting Sayaka's witch, or when Tomoe Mami had the good fortune both to survive and stay sane after the first two weeks of April, the surviving magical girl held a small memorial for Sayaka. The only one Homura had attended had taken place after both of their deaths, so this would be the first time that Homura would remember the legacy of Miki Sayaka in the presence of those who had known her only in the context of Miki Sayaka the mahou shoujo.

And what was that legacy? Brash, unreliable, generally disappointing—

Homura's jaw clenched, and now she tasted blood.

I will wait one week, Homura thought, and then, when May comes, I will get out.

-x—

The city glittered before Homura, as if people had stolen the light from the stars above for their own purposes. Homura had never seen a starry night.

Kyubey had offered her a second wish in this timeline, which was completely unheard of, and something that she knew the old Kyubey would never do. The Incubator had reasoned that, even though Homura was fighting against the heat death of the universe, she had not received, as far as the Incubators could tell, any compensation in the form of a wish. Incubators didn't deal in terms of fair or unfair, but when it came to establishing a consistent system of incentives appealing to rational thinkers—

Homura had declined, obviously, but she thought that if she were to have accepted the offer, she would have wished for a solution to light pollution.

Homura's cell phone buzzed in her pocket. It was a flowery, almost overdone affair. Mami had given it to her in what could have only been a conciliatory gesture. Homura stared at the phone for a few seconds. She was still getting used to having to use the things.

Homura flipped the cell phone open. "This is Akemi."

"Ah, Akemi-san," Mami said. "Forgive me if I'm intruding—"

Homura had asked Kyubey to block attempts at contacting her telepathically for a reason. But now that she could actually hear the hesitation in Mami's voice, she couldn't bring herself to press down on the button to hang up.

"No, it's fine," Homura said. She still had that cold lilt to her voice. It had slipped in at one point, lost amongst a countless number of timelines, but it had still hurt to realize that she had forgotten how to speak in any other way to anybody, even Madoka.

"I was being unnecessarily taciturn."

There was a short pause on Mami's end. "Even though she didn't say it, Kyouko was very grateful that you came."

Sayaka and I were never very good friends.

"I just called to ask where you were going," Mami said. "You left so abruptly, and…"

Homura turned away from the scene of Mitakihara at night, shining and golden, and instead stared at the cold concrete of the building beneath her. "Forgive me. I think that I will be absent for the next couple days."

There was a short pause on Mami's end. "Yes, and?"

"That's it."

Mami laughed. "Well, you could have just said so."

"I—"

Homura had never considered herself very good with words.

"I didn't think that you would find the information relevant."

Mami made a questioning murmur. "Why not? Kyouko and I will have to cover for you, of course."

Homura shifted, glad that Mami couldn't see her at the moment. She hadn't considered that they were, after all, supposed to be a team. Working independently was so much more convenient.

"I'm sorry."

"No, don't be!" Mami exclaimed. There was something almost pleading in her voice. Homura didn't know why anybody would ever think it appropriate to be desperate for her approval. "Akemi-san, we're friends, right?"

It wasn't at all appropriate.

"I don't think that someone like you would want to be friends with someone like me."

Homura had known that she would regret the words even before she had opened her mouth to say them, but she had said them anyway. She had spent the last month engaging Tomoe Mami in some vaguely defined half-friendship, and it was infuriating. Homura had given up on that a long time ago, and she never liked to rebuild the bridges that she herself had burned.

It was all the same.

She could feel slightly better about herself now that she was fighting to remember Madoka, something that she had resolved to do the instant she had opened her eyes back in that hospital bed and still felt the imprints of her gentle touch pressed into her brain, but she could still feel awful that Madoka was gone, that nobody could remember her, that she was nothing but a ghost.

She was still the type of person that Miki Sayaka would round on with flashing eyes and contempt in her voice. What did Homura care about all the people that Madoka had sacrificed herself for? Magical girl or not, most human beings were selfish and delusional.

They had rejected her. Nobody had ever, ever needed her. Except for Madoka.

It wasn't satisfying. There was a space torn straight through the framework of Homura's world, and every regret she had ever held was echoing in that space, rebounding over and over again. It drove her insane.

Mami wasn't saying anything, but she hadn't hung up, and neither had Homura. At least she wasn't acting surprised. That would've been painfully naïve, and probably a lie.

Finally, Mami spoke. "Why don't you want to be friends with anyone?"

"Friendship is a beautiful, wonderful thing. The relationships most people have with each other are insulting imitations."

Sakura Kyouko would have yelled at her for saying something as silly as that. Maybe Miki Sayaka would also.

"There isn't any need for us to be hostile," Homura said. "I don't want that. But I don't think that we can be friends. Co-existence is all you should expect from me."

It took Mami a while to speak again, but when she did, some composure had re-entered her voice. "Who's 'Madoka?'"

"I am not having this discussion."

"We both heard you say her name."

Emotion churned inside Homura, making her want to say "goodbye" and hang up, but that would be embarrassingly petty, not to mention rude.

"I'm sorry, but I don't want to talk about that."

"It only has to be a lie if you want it to be, Akemi-san. The three of us are the same."

"Just because we've lost people close to us?"

"Because fighting on is the only thing we can do to stop the pain."

"I don't—"

Homura cut herself off. Some things, she was never going to say.

"I'm sorry for inconveniencing you with my absence," Homura said. "I'll be back."

"It's not a problem, Akemi-san."

Homura hung up before Mami could say anything else. For a while she just stared at the city below her, watching as miasma pockets bubbled up out of nothingness.

Saving the world had never been a goal in itself. Either way, Mami had said that taking care of the demons wouldn't be a problem. She had never abandoned her duty before, whether that duty had been fighting witches or protecting Madoka, but Homura wasn't trapped in a cycle anymore, and breaking patterns seemed fitting.

Homura unfurled her wings behind her and beat them once, sending her rocketing into the sky. She soared higher until even her body couldn't ignore the cold, and then she chose a random direction and started flying. She didn't stop until she could look up and see the stars again and feel a warm presence somewhere behind her ear.

When Homura came back to Earth, she found herself at the peak of a wooded mountaintop. There were no lights in any direction, and the sounds of insects chirping in the night air filled Homura's ears. She had smelled automobile exhaust and disinfectant for her entire life, but now she could smell nothing but the almost-sweet perfume of the earth.

Homura laid herself on the ground as exhaustion began shutting her brain down. The dirt wasn't very comfortable, but Homura was too tired to care, and she quickly fell asleep.

Clocks across Japan struck midnight, and that year's April 30th slipped into the past.

-x-

When Homura regained consciousness, she found herself standing over her own body.

She was still in the same forest, and her body was still lying in the same position, but when Homura reached a trembling hand down to touch the other body's wrist, she couldn't feel a pulse, even though the body was warm. It was only when Homura saw the leaves frozen in the middle of the air that she realized what was happening.

Homura heard footsteps behind her. She was too afraid to turn around, even though she knew that nothing was, in all likelihood, trying to harm her. It was more the fear of the unknown, because even after years of fighting witches she had never seen anything like this.

But soon, excitement began to build up, stronger than the fear, and Homura turned around.

Maybe it was because she had only lost Madoka a month ago, which made the loss more freshly bitter, that this turnaround seemed so miraculous. Almost cheating, but hadn't Madoka been a cheater from the start?

Homura ran forwards and wrapped her arms around Madoka. Maybe holding her would prevent her from leaving ever again. Who knew? Homura was desperate enough to try.

"Homura," Madoka said. The sound of hearing her name said by that voice was like a chorus of angels to Homura. There didn't have to be any meaning behind it.

"I…"

Homura didn't know why Madoka was struggling with her words. It registered on some level that it didn't seem very characteristic for Madoka to do that, but she still hung on.

"You said it yourself, didn't you? You said that there would be a miracle. This is the miracle, isn't it?" Homura pulled away from Madoka and smiled. "Everything's going to be all right, isn't it?"

"I can't cheat too much, Homura. I certainly can't cheat death."

Homura shook her head. "But you're not dead! You're right here!"

"The world we came from is dead, and I don't belong here."

"I—but you're here," Homura said. "I don't understand."

Reality began seeping into Homura's world the instant she saw genuine regret in Madoka's eyes. "This space is only temporary, and it can be made only once a year. Once you leave it, you will forget everything that happened inside it."

Homura blinked, and then clenched her fists for an instant before relaxing them. "Oh. Well, that's somewhat cruel."

"I'm sorry for being selfish, Homura. I…I wanted to see you again."

Madoka was still shorter than Homura, not like the radiant Goddess that had shone over Earth a month ago. She bowed her head slightly, letting her pink hair run across her face. After a moment of hesitation, Homura brushed the hair aside. She wanted to see all of Madoka.

"It's not selfish," Homura said. "If anybody's selfish, I am. I wanted you all to myself. I still do."

"If the cycles had continued, then maybe you would have had me," Madoka said.

Homura flicked her eyes away before locking them onto Madoka's face again. "Your family's doing well. I saw Tatsuya a few days ago—"

"I know. I am watching."

"Oh." Homura slowly flipped her hair over her shoulder. "I—you really are a God now, aren't you?"

Her form was human, but if Homura looked closely at her face, light flickered beneath the surface of her skin and shone through. Madoka as a human was nothing more than a mask to hide what both of them knew she really was. Homura could never truly have her now.

"That doesn't make us too different, Homura," Madoka said, her voice light and soothing. She spoke like someone who had been changed by the years she carried. Homura didn't know if Madoka could still be called "young" or "old." All she knew was that Madoka almost seemed to be the opposite of "timeless," that time wrapped around Madoka, almost like it had wrapped around her.

Homura shook her head. "We can't be the same," she said. "Just think about all the things that are different between us. You're above me. Beyond me. You've always been too far away for me to touch."

The last word shook Homura as she remembered smell, not of nature but of a human being, and the soft, cool feel of Madoka's skin. She remembered thinking how pointless it all was when it would be wiped away, and what difference it would make if it would be wiped away in a hundred years or in the next week.

Madoka looked confused. "I'm here, Homura."

"No," Homura said, shaking her head. "Didn't you say it? You're not really here. We're stuck in the same trap again, except now it's me who'll forget you, like some perverse joke. And the worst part is that this is better than what I had before. What I had before was never seeing you again, not even in death. Between that and this, I wouldn't hesitate, even if I had to take a half-life with you."

Madoka's form shimmered. "I shouldn't have come."

"What? No!"

"I gave you false hope," Madoka said. "Which is probably neither of our faults, but all the same, it's a false hope. I never meant to lie to you, Homura, and I…I want you to know that there is hope beyond this. You're obviously not satisfied."

Homura shook her head. She had thought that it would have been all over when Madoka left, but when she came back, Madoka was still everywhere. She was in Homura's bow and her ribbons and her radiant wings. She whispered in her ear and blew warmth into her. Homura saw her in her mother and her brother, and even Tatsuya remembered Madoka, so how could it possibly be the case that Madoka was gone?

Everything had been simpler when all Madoka had to do was reassure Homura that her sacrifices had meant something, and that surely they would meet again—when it was a conclusion. But Homura knew now that there was no conclusion except death.

"Can you blame me?" Homura asked. "I can't live in this world without you. If you've been watching me, you've seen me for the past month. I can't be friends with Sakura-san or Tomoe-san. I can barely go hunting with them without remembering you and then bursting into tears. I've been weak my entire life."

Madoka's face hardened slightly. "You're not weak, Homura. I gave you your powers for a reason."

"To fight, and to protect this world—I know! But I never did anything for anyone if it wasn't for you. I care about nobody else enough to protect them."

Madoka reached out and touched Homura's hand. She flinched at the contact, because it was an apocalypse ago the last time she had felt Madoka, but then, Homura's fingers leaped forwards and clung onto Madoka's.

"I know we're different, Homura," Madoka said. "But I am Hope. If you fight for me, then you fight for a greater good."

Homura took a deep breath. "That makes sense, but I can't associate hope with you. It's just…just too bizarre. I've had a month to try and I still haven't gotten any better."

The sternness in Madoka's face melted away as she laughed softly. "It's okay."

Homura squeezed Madoka's hand. "I don't understand why you had to sacrifice yourself, though."

"That was my duty as a magical girl, wasn't it? For my wish, I had to give myself up to service," Madoka said.

"But that's not even true! You know that there have been plenty of magical girls that shirked their duties. In almost all of the timelines, Kyouko didn't care about helping people or spreading hope or anything like that, and she had the most successful survival rate."

Madoka sighed and reached up a hand to stroke Homura's hair. "You sound like a child sometimes."

Homura stiffened. "I've gone through—"

"I know," Madoka said. "But if you live the same month over and over, you never get to see what happens after. I know that you're strong and determined, but you still need to learn."

There was a tiny tremor in Homura's voice as she spoke. It took all of her willpower not to bite her lip, or play with her fingers. She wasn't that girl anymore. "I always thought that martyrdom was a child's dream."

Madoka was silent for a few seconds. Then, her voice light and distant, she said, "Yes, I suppose so. I was a child back then, and I saw no use for myself if it wasn't in the service of others."

Madoka's footsteps were silent against the frozen ground as she stepped away from Homura. "You're a contradiction. You know that you've persevered through more than enough to be considered strong, but no matter what, you will think you're weak for not being able to save me. You've tried for so long not to be the girl you once were, but you believe, without even knowing it, that you will never amount to anything but that girl."

There was silence as Homura considered Madoka's words. Madoka had been the only person to have validated that girl, quiet and meek and utterly useless, of no value to anybody, and worst of all, of no value to herself. And life after Madoka meant that there was no more validation for that girl, that nobody would ever validate that girl, except right here, right now.

"Why did you decide to become friends with me?"

"Because you seemed like you needed friends."

"So I guess the lesson is that if you're weak, pray that somebody will take pity on you?"

Madoka turned around. "I was a child. Every person is valuable in their own right. Even the lowest, most despicable person is human in the end. But I thought that, if I were nice enough to you and showed you enough kindness, I could make you believe that you were worth something. I was wrong. Nobody can ever make you believe that but yourself."

Wind blew over Homura's skin, and Madoka's form flickered. Then, everything was still once more, but Homura's heart had already stopped.

"Homura, I need—"

"Wait!" Homura cried out. "I need to know. Did you love me?"

It was a question she couldn't ask for thousands of timelines, because she was talking to a stranger. It was a question she had failed to ask the one time it had mattered most, when she thought that she was reaching a conclusion. Maybe then, if she had asked, she wouldn't have been haunted by Madoka's ghost, and she could have lived the last month in peace.

But it was too late now.

"Well, I remember being fascinated by you, over and over again, because you looked and acted cool, and it seemed elegant and beautiful," Madoka said, giggling. Then, her face grew more serious.

"But that wasn't really who you were," she said. "I was fascinated by an illusion, just like you were probably fascinated with the strong, confidant projection of a magical girl I made for you the first time you met me."

Homura bowed her head. "Then neither of us really loved the other."

"I wouldn't say that," Madoka said. "I didn't always put on the confidant mask—"

A girl with blood on her hands, kneeling by train tracks, crying onto Homura's shoulder, who knew, whatever Homura said, that they were chasing death—

"—and you, even after everything, weren't always cold."

"But we still…like you said, one month isn't very long, even if it happens over and over again," Homura said. "We never really knew each other, all this time. So don't say that you shouldn't have come here. Even if this can only happen once a year, we need to start somewhere, don't we?"

Madoka nodded, and then smiled. "All right."

The wind began to blow, and the leaves resumed their downward spiral towards the ground. Homura was having trouble focusing on Madoka's body.

"In the end, I did love you."

-x-

In the morning, there was only the vaguest sense that she had forgotten something, and even that was rapidly eroded by the inevitable ticking of the universe's clock. All she retained was the strong, overwhelming desire to come back to this spot next year.

There was something more abstract than that, though. For most of her life Homura had tethered her sense of being to one girl, fragile and mortal, yet immortal through her own efforts. The negative space marking her loss pervaded throughout Homura's world.

But now it seemed that Homura could bear the loss a little better. She had this sense that she had realized something, but she didn't know what. She still couldn't shake the deeply impressed notion that she could be either cold-hearted and unfeeling, or weak and oversensitive. She still felt, on the dominant levels of her mind, worthless and without purpose.

Maybe, though, there was a slight change, and as Homura thought of something she wasn't sure if she was thinking it or if it was someone else who had taught her it:

It is all right for me to be here.

-x-

(so yeah, mutlichapter madohomu fanfiction. this is such a great use of my time)

(this is basically what i've been doing instead of working on free sky and it went sooo slowly)

(if anybody's wondering this is compliant with the free sky world not that it really matters)

(if you enjoyed it please leave a review if you didn't enjoy it then i'd still like you to leave a review telling me what i could have done better or maybe not even that you can just complain about something that's still helpful)