Work Text:
Any time Homura stops to breathe, she thinks she hears whispers.
"I want to help! I'm sorry that I can't."
"Please rest. This wasn't the right one anyway."
"Be careful. You really scared me."
Many voices speak as one. It should be monstrous, but it's the only new conversation she's had in years.
All of them speak with a childlike stubbornness that was stolen from Homura long ago.
She's surrounded by thousands of dead Madokas, and she's lonely.
The words are the only thing lasting she can build here. The only thing the Incubator can't have.
Pity they aren't real.