Riley Thompson had been through a few phases in her life. The first lasted fourteen years, and though she tried to avoid doing so, she reflected upon it often. Much of her hours spent sleeping gave way to shaky remembrances and tweaked memories of the time. Her second, the duration of which was less than half of the first, mainly consisted of anger, though much of her energy during this phase was given to the taking care of a young girl, whom she grew to consider family. The third was much like the first, involving pain and obedience, and taking place over the span of twenty-two years. The fourth phase was full of a different kind of pain than she had ever experienced, and it had only just begun.
She had seen many things in the forty years she'd been alive. She'd witnessed abuse, both emotional and physical; the Challenger explosion; alcoholism; the fall of the Berlin Wall; addiction; pointless wars; withdrawal; the rise of the Internet; death, from both murder and suicide; grown men and women sobbing. She had seen people break, countless times. She'd seen people fall in and out of love. She'd seen people grieve. She'd seen people beg. But she'd never seen magic, and she had never entertained the notion that she would, not even as a young child.
Even now, she didn't doubt that such a thing didn't exist. In this supposedly magical town, she had still yet to see it. The sight in front of her now was one she had seen many times - a funeral. People dressed in black stood before a black coffin, coming forward one and two at a time to place arrows on top of it. Eventually, people began to leave, until only one was left - a blonde woman who, even from this distance, seemed to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders. A short-haired brunette stepped up to the woman, and the two spoke for a moment until the blonde was left on her own again.
Riley studied their surroundings: some trees, all devoid of humans, and many gravestones. It felt weird to be safe somewhere so out in the open, sort of too good to be true. And Riley never accepted things that were too good to be true. She wanted to get the blonde someplace else, somewhere less… open. If only things were different.
With a sigh, Riley resigned herself to a gentle approach. The blonde was fragile at the moment and would be for a long while, especially considering how jarring Riley's reappearance in her life would be.
Coming to stand beside her, as the brunette had, Riley broke the ice with a quote. "Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them." Her gaze remained fixed on the coffin as the blonde turned to look at her.
There must have been a billion thoughts going through the woman's mind, and Riley was afraid of most of them. What the blonde said next was not entirely unexpected. "You're not here. You're not really here. I'm imagining you as a way to punish myself because…" Her voice caught on its way out, and her mouth moved uselessly for a moment. "You're not real," she reiterated. Pale hands became white fists. The burn of her sad gaze left Riley.
"I know you need to think that," Riley responded quietly, patiently. She imagined the woman as a scrawny twelve year old, and words came more easily to her. "I'm sorry this happened."
Restrained anger was clear in the way the blonde held herself. "You must be sorry for a lot of things." She shook her head. "If you were real and I had the energy, I would punch you."
"I would deserve it."
The women stood silently for a few moments. Rain fell steadily and lightly from the dreary sky; the weather was perfect for the day. It was as if God wept with them. Then the blonde was younger, weaker, and she fell forward, only to be caught by the person who had let her fall more than two decades prior.
It was some time before either was able to speak; Riley felt as if her throat were swollen, and she imagined the blonde felt something similar. It became obvious she did when she croaked, "You left me." Her body quaked with silent sobs. "But you're really here, aren't you? You came back after twenty fucking years."
"I'm sorry for both things. I promise I wouldn't be here if it weren't necessary."
"Fuck your promises." The blonde's voice held such bitterness; it broke Riley's heart.
Riley was not compelled to point out that she had never promised not to leave, though the thought did present itself. It was not what the blonde needed, so Riley only held her tighter.
"Why now? Of all the times you could have chosen to fucking reappear, why now?"
Words Riley hated to believe escaped through thin lips, "You're in danger. You and… your family. You're all in danger."
The blonde pulled herself together at the mention of those she loved in harm's way. It seemed to come so naturally to her, and pride welled up strongly in Riley's chest. "How?" The demand was accompanied by probing green-blue eyes, which were narrowed with suspicion, and crossed arms.
"The United States government knows about Storybrooke, and they consider it a threat."