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"Homura-chan, please… I don't want to turn into a witch…"
Yet despite Madoka's screams, Homura couldn't bring herself to destroy Madoka's Soul Gem yet again, and her shield activated before she could witness the end of the world.
A kinder girl Homura had never known, and only the cruelest of witches could distort that kindness, and still Madoka's anguished screams echoed in Homura's ears.
She forced her eyes open, but instead of that same hospital bed, she found herself in the strange space between time, where parallel universes intersected and Soul Gems didn't darken. She still didn't understand this place, but she hadn't wanted to start a new timeline so soon either.
If she stayed here, her Soul Gem would never hatch into a witch. But then Madoka would…
With a heavy sigh she pushed forward, and soon came upon Bar & Grill Akemi-ya. Some versions of herself had already chosen to remain in this space, offering support to those who came after. The restaurant seemed oddly quiet as she approached, and saw no one else. Briefly she wondered what the first version of herself who had stumbled upon this space outside time had thought.
She pushed the door open, her body moving of its own accord, and spotted the bartender version of herself pushing a broom. She was taller than the average Homura and had a more developed figure, and she still wore glasses. "Oh, we're already closed for the night…" she began to say, but her smile faded as she saw Homura's expression.
Homura sat on the nearest stool and clutched her shield tightly. "Can I stay here for a bit…?" she asked carefully.
The bartender nodded and again wore that faint, understanding smile of hers. "Of course you may. I'm always here for any Homura in need."
Silence fell over them as the bartender continued to sweep, and to Homura's relief, she didn't try to pry. However, likely she already knew, given how often alternate versions of her had failed to save Madoka. No, not just often, but always. Homura stared down at her hands, and so easily could she feel the weight of that unfired gun. Sometimes she could destroy Madoka's Soul Gem before it hatched into a witch. But this wasn't the first time she had failed to do so. She closed her eyes, and saw Madoka crying and writhing in agony, her selfless wish transforming into something twisted and grotesque. Madoka simply wanted to help others, to be of use, but every time Homura failed.
Again Homura sighed. It wasn't even just Madoka she failed to save - lately none of Mami, Sayaka, or Kyouko survived to Walpurgisnacht. And when Homura failed to destroy Madoka's corrupted Soul Gem, the entire world was condemned. Homura bit her lip; how many times had she callously abandoned a doomed timeline?
"Homura-chan," came the bartender's gentle voice, and she laid her hand on Homura's shoulder. "It never does get any easier, does it?"
Homura cast another glance at her hands. "I think I lost count a long time ago."
"Come with me, please," the bartender said, taking Homura's hand, and Homura didn't protest as she followed.
The bartender led her up a flight of stairs to a small loft. It had the basic essentials for living, such as a bed and small fridge and stove, but a baby grand piano of all things caught Homura's eyes. It barely fit this cramped space, and the bartender let out an awkward laugh as she sat upon the bench.
"It doesn't really fit, does it?" she said, lifting the cover of the keys. "But when I mentioned wanting a real piano, one Homura came back with this in her shield. I couldn't believe it!" She smiled softly. "She said she wanted to repay me for everything I've done for her."
Homura remained silent as she sat on the edge of the bed. Even after finding her own shield again, the bartender chose to remain in this space. Her own timeline had been lost long ago, she had said, so all she could do now was support other versions of herself. Homura had once thought her cowardly, but now she wasn't so sure.
So many versions of herself, and not one of them had managed to save Madoka.
The bartender gave Homura another smile. "Would you like me to play something?"
"…Do what you will," Homura muttered.
Her smile softening, the bartender placed her hands over the ivory keys and began to play. It was a quiet, slow-paced piece, and vaguely familiar. Homura knew of some classical pieces thanks to Sayaka, in the early timelines when they had been friends, but Sayaka's interests predominantly centered around pieces for the violin. She shut her eyes a moment, letting the music notes wash over, and thought of the night. Many nights she and Madoka had hunted witches together, and comforted each other after battles. As frightening as such witches were, Homura had looked forward to those moments with Madoka. How many times had they laid together under the stars, with Homura certain this timeline would finally be the one, only to start the cycle anew? She couldn't even remember the last time she and Madoka had shared a kiss.
The song continued, reminding Homura of the stars she often shared with Madoka. She chewed her lip; such a gentle song felt like a blade through the heart. The bartender's fingers were graceful as they danced upon the keys, but behind her glasses Homura saw how her eyes had begun to water.
When the bartender finished playing, neither spoke immediately. The bartender stared wishfully at the piano, and her fingers lingered over the keys. The silver band around her ring finger caught Homura's eye; here, no one needed to worry about their Soul Gem darkening and hatching into a witch. The way Madoka had screamed as her own Soul Gem grew corrupted - that sight hurt Homura every time. Trying to push those memories from her mind, she asked, "What song was that?"
"A nocturne by Chopin." The bartender chuckled weakly. "It's cliché, I know, but… I thought it was fitting."
"It was lovely."
"Why, thank you." The bartender paused a moment, touching the silver band around her finger. "Here, there is no night or day. It means we don't have to worry about the passage of time, but… I must admit I miss seeing the stars sometimes."
"The stars, huh?" Homura touched her shield, running fingers along the rim. "Madoka always liked the stars too." She froze; she'd referred to Madoka in the past tense. But Madoka wasn't truly gone, she reminded herself. She just had to start a new timeline and Madoka would be alive, and someday Homura would save her. Yet Homura's fingers balled into fists and tears rolled down her cheeks. Madoka had screamed in such pain while begging Homura to destroy her Soul Gem, but Homura had failed again, and again Madoka had transformed into a witch that would consume all. All those Madoka loved, her friends and family, would cease to be. Madoka, who only wanted to help others, would end the world, all because Homura couldn't take that shot.
That timeline was gone now. It didn't matter anymore. But still Madoka's screams echoed in Homura's ears.
The bartender sat beside Homura on the edge of the bed and pulled her into a tight embrace. She didn't resist, and let herself sob into the bartender's shoulder. Once, Homura herself had held Madoka like this, after Madoka had destroyed Mami's Soul Gem to save Homura. It didn't stop hurting, and it wasn't just Madoka who drifted further and further away time after time. The bartender threaded her fingers through Homura's unbound hair, her touch gentle and adoring, and the warmth of her embrace was a comfort Homura hadn't felt in a long, long time.
"Homura-chan," the bartender said quietly as she lifted Homura's chin. "I'll always be here for you." She smiled, faint and melancholy, and pressed her lips to Homura's.
Once, a long time ago, Homura had shared a kiss with Madoka, but that timeline felt little more than a dream these days. She welcomed the bartender's kiss, and more tears slipped from her eyes. Maybe she was twisted, seeking such comfort from an alternate version of herself. That was a kind of incest, wasn't it? Maybe she was that selfish, that only another version of herself could truly understand her. After all, how many of them had condemned countless timelines to oblivion? None of them had managed to save Madoka. None of their hands were clean.
Homura soon lay her head in the bartender's lap, and her tears had finally dried. Maybe she had simply run out of tears. Even Kyouko sometimes accused her of having a heart of stone. But the bartender understood her. That was enough for now. The bartender twirled strands of hair around her fingers, those same fingers that had played such gentle music. Maybe someday she and Madoka would be able to gaze up at the stars again, without fear of loss or witches.
"You are strong, Homura-chan," the bartender said. Sometimes it was strange to hear her own voice so gentle, Homura thought. "I'm sure that someday you will save your Madoka."
Homura cast a glance at her worn shield. "It's been such a long time, though…"
"I know. But we're a stubborn bunch, aren't we?"
Another sigh slipped from Homura's lips. "There might come a day I don't come back here."
"And I will miss you, but that just means you finally succeeded."
How many times had they failed? How many times had they watched Madoka die or transform into a witch? How many times had they witnessed the end of the world? But even if they couldn't give up, they could still rest a moment. Homura raised her hand to touch the bartender's cheek and whispered, "Thank you."
The bartender took Homura's hand and kissed her fingertips. "When you leave again, I'll see you off with a smile, I promise."