A/N: You guys :)

The time passed quickly but not exactly peacefully; Emma and Hook's discussion about which point in time they should use the spell to return to was broken by many disagreements.

They needed to return to the Enchanted Forest and pick up Mary Margaret before returning to Storybrooke, Emma pointed out.

They could just cut out the Enchanted Forest altogether and return to Storybrooke before Emma and Mary Margaret were ever dragged away from it to begin with, Hook countered. After all, if they returned to the Enchanted Forest then they still had no way back to Storybrooke.

Then there would be two Emmas wandering about in Storybrooke, Emma argued.

Sounds wonderful, Hook replied.

"Could you take this a little bit seriously, please?" Emma snapped. "Going back to Storybrooke before all of this even happened could work, yeah, but we'd have to time it so that we arrived after Mary Margaret and I ju…" Jumped into the portal was what she had been going to say, except her memory was playing tricks on her. She had been through too many damn portals as of late to be expected to remember them all perfectly, but the very first portal she had been sucked through, the one that had taken her to the Enchanted Forest and started this whole mess, had been different.

She had fallen through, and then Mary Margaret had jumped in after her. There had been a delay. Not much of a delay, but a delay nonetheless. If Emma could travel back in time to Storybrooke, watch her past self fall into the portal, and then stop Mary Margaret from jumping in after her, they would all be back in one place.

"It would erase the timeline we're living now, right?" she asked eagerly once she had outlined her theory to Hook. "We wouldn't need to go back to the Enchanted Forest to save Mary Margaret, because Mary Margaret would never have gone back to the Enchanted Forest in the new timeline!"

Hook was silent for a few moments as he thought Emma's plan over.

"You would still be jumping into the portal," he said slowly.

"Yeah, but not me me," Emma said. "Past me. Her timeline would probably mesh with mine, or something."

"Or something," Hook repeated with a frown. "This is my problem with time travel, love. No one understands it. How do you know that changing the past won't change the future? What if, once past-you falls into the portal, present-you just fades from existence?"

"That won't happen," Emma said, confident without being sure why. She had no idea how time travel worked, just as Hook said. All she knew was that she finally had a solid chance at returning to her son and she wasn't going to waste it.

"Likely the spell would simply cause the creation of an alternate dimension in which the past version of yourself would live out her days without any effect on your present life," Loki said, as casually as if they were chatting about the weather. When Emma and Hook gaped at him, his lips thinned in irritation. "I have spent the last thousand years studying magic and the universe, but by all means continue on with your childish theories."

Emma was happy to cling to the explanation in the hopes that it would convince Hook. She turned back to him, trying to convey See, the Viking god thinks it's a good idea! without saying it out loud, because she wasn't sure it would help her case.

"You'd be condemning yourself to a life without Henry," Hook said, quietly enough to make it clear that he was trying to draw the conversation back to just the two of them.

"A version of myself." Emma insisted on using the right terminology, both for her sake and Hook's. "And who's to say that she wouldn't find her way back to Storybrooke in her alternate dimension? It was me and you who climbed the beanstalk, remember? Me and you who fought at the dried lake. Me and you who fell through to Wonderland. There's no reason that another Emma and another Hook wouldn't do all of those things, too."

Hook's lips twitched upwards. It was probably meant to be a sneer but there was a softness in his eyes as he asked, "You think we'd still meet in that other life?"

"I think we would," Emma replied. And then, because her mouth didn't know when to stop forming sentences, she added, "You're kind of a part of my life now."

Emma didn't think she'd ever seen such a soft look on Hook's face before. She'd certainly never felt the accompanying twinge in her stomach before. It was something other than lust, less defined and more unknown.

Once the time was decided, they let it lie and moved on to other topics. Given that both Hook and Emma had come down with a sudden case of let's not look at each other, Emma was left to ignore Loki while Thor and Hook struck up something of a rapport. They swapped stories of quests, treasures, and women (and some stories which combined all three) while Emma sat back and tried to ignore the jealousy niggling in her stomach. Of course Hook had had conquests, as he liked to call them, before. She knew that. It didn't bother her. She was not exactly a blushing virgin herself. So it. Did. Not. Matter.

Still, Emma was happy when the thundering of horses' hooves interrupted the latest tale. She got to her feet and watched as four figures climbed down from their horses. There was a woman, beautiful and fierce, and three men, one handsome if foppish, another almost as wide as he was tall, and a final, solemn one.

"You know I hate being summoned like that," the handsome man groaned to Thor.

Thor grinned at his friend. "Indisposed, Fandral?"

"About to be. I'll have a lot of apologising to do when I return."

"Yes," Loki said, with a smile slyer than his brother's. "I imagine you'll be down on your knees."

"Imagine all you like, Loki."

Loki sent him a black look and said nothing further. Emma pressed her lips together in an effort not to laugh. Hook made no such attempts, earning a further glare from Loki.

"The Lady Sif and the Warriors Three," Thor announced, gesturing expansively at the newcomers who returned Hook and Emma's stares with a cursory interest. "Fandral the Dashing, Hogun the Grim, and Volstagg."

"Didn't earn your title yet, mate?" Hook asked the largest of the men, Volstagg.

Rather than take offense, Volstagg laughed. It was a mighty roar of a laugh that made Emma warm to him.

"Some choose to call me Volstagg the Voluminous, if you insist upon overly complicated names."

Yeah, Emma thought, Let's talk about overly complicated names, Killian Jones a.k.a. Captain Hook.

"Why did you call us here?" Hogun asked. He had a calm, measured tone that stopped his question from sounding impatient.

Thor beamed "We have a quest, my friends!"

"They have a quest," Loki corrected, jerking his head stiffly towards Emma and Hook. "We've decided to ally ourselves with it, for some reason."

You're the one who made the bet, jerk, Emma thought, but didn't say anything.

"Ah." Fandral's eyes raked over Hook, his eyes lingering on his missing hand and what had replaced it, and then over Emma with no less scrutiny. "Where do they come from?"

"They are of Midgard," Thor said.

Volstagg's eyebrows rose. "Midgardians?"

"Indeed."

Volstagg shrugged and sat down against a tree. The others joined him, forming a loose semi-circle in the clearing.

"How did they reach Asgard?" Sif asked. There was not outright suspicion in her eyes but a kind of wariness.

"Magic."

Apparently that was a commonly accepted answer in Asgard, because no one asked anymore questions. The longer Emma watched them interact with each other, the more she saw that the group seemed to have an unquestioning loyalty to Thor where everything he said was instantly accepted. Emma understood. Some people had a natural leadership about them and could pull others into their orbit of decision-making with nothing more than a smile and a promise of success.

Thor recapped his and Loki's plan to help, ignoring his brother's expression which spoke of an inner monologue consisting of This is idiotic this is idiotic this is idiotic.

"You may be gone for some time," Volstagg said, and then smiled. "Fortunately for you, we did not come without provisions."

"Did you bring any food?" Emma asked. She'd been distracting herself from her empty stomach but she didn't think that dying of starvation was something she could ignore until it went away.

"I already told you," Loki said, speaking aloud for the first time since his friends had arrived, "you can hunt for food."

"Allow me," Sif said, rising to her feet as though she'd only been waiting for the opportunity. Emma gathered that she wasn't one to sit around. "Hogun, will you assist?"

"Gladly."

Emma took that to mean that he didn't like sitting around either, and not just that he didn't want to sit with them. The pair stole away into the forest as Volstagg gathered material to start a fire.

"Tell us of the lands you have visited before," Fandral said once the task had been accomplished, sitting back in anticipation of a good story. "If you have travelled somewhere we have not, you may have the first cuts of the beast."

"Well, the last place we went to was Oz," Emma said, ticking the names off on her fingers. "And before that was Transylvania, Wonderland, and the Enchanted Forest. Before we met," she nodded to Hook, "he was in Neverland and I was in Storybrooke."

Fandral pursed his lips. "I'm fairly certain you made most of those names up."

"Wish I had," Emma said with a shrug. "Thor and Loki aren't even the only royalty we've met recently."

"It's never ended well, meeting royalty, has it?" Hook asked, earning a sharp look from Emma. "What? It hasn't!"

"People from royal families kind of have a thing about trying to kill us," Emma admitted to Volstagg and Fandral. "Most royal families, anyway."

Volstagg waved away her hint of concern. "Thor will only try and kill you if you best him in a drinking competition."

"And Loki?"

"He's one for pranks," Fandral dismisses, "nothing more."

Emma wasn't entirely convinced but she wasn't about to speak out against the people trying to help them. She launched instead into a story about the Queen of Diamonds, prompting Hook's accompanying tale of the Queen of Hearts. Fandral countered with a retelling of a grand battle against dwarves, which Volstagg chimed in with every now and then.

The stories got increasingly bloodthirsty. Emma had half-expected similar comments on her delicate female constitution, or whatever it was Van Helsing and those guys thought was wrong with her because she was a woman, but there was nothing like that. Emma guessed that it was thanks to Sif, who was cut from the same kind of scary-capable cloth as Mary Margaret. When she came back from hunting lugging an animal that Emma couldn't identify, her armor was streaked with blood and her hair was a snarled mess of dirt and twigs.

Fandral withdrew a dagger from somewhere beneath his tunic and began to methodically skin the boar.

"A good hunt?" he asked Sif as he got to work.

"Good enough," Sif said, removing the heavier parts of her armor and setting them apart from the group. She sat down beside Volstagg while Hogun went to assist with the boar. "Have you been getting to know our visitors?"

"We have," Volstagg said with a nod. "From tales of her victories it seems that the lass would make a decent shield maiden, were she of Asgard."

Sif looked at Emma in a new, appraising light. "High praise."

"Undeserved," Emma said quickly. "It hasn't been that long since the first time I picked up a sword."

How long had it been? It felt like years since she had even been in the Enchanted Forest, let alone Storybrooke before that.

"All great warriors started somewhere," Sif said, refusing to accept Emma's modesty. "Fandral almost sliced his hand off the first time he picked up a sword."

"That wasn't quite what happened," Fandral grumbled. When his friends snickered, he tried to turn the topic elsewhere. "Volstagg, you brought mead with you, I believe?"

"I did!" Volstagg removed a pouch from where it had rested against his generous stomach. "You'll have to forgive the lack of tankards. To your successful journey."

He drank heartily and then passed the pouch sideways. Emma took a cautious sip of the mead and almost choked on it. It had the potency of entire brewery stuffed into a few small drops. Still spluttering, she handed the pouch to Hook. He handled it better, although his eyes were watering when he gave it to Sif. She drank a more generous portion with barely a flicker in her expression.

"Thor did not introduce you properly," she said to Emma and Hook once she had finished.

Hook scoffed. "Thor doesn't know our names. Didn't ask."

No one seemed surprised.

"He meant no disrespect," Sif said, the makings of a smile touching her lips. "We are…unaccustomed to visitors from Midgard. The only thing we know about mortals is that they must be protected."

Thor didn't think you were worth getting to know by name, is what Emma heard. She tried to be understanding and take into account cultural differences or whatever, but she still thought it was pretty damn rude.

"I'm Emma," she said, trying to un-grit her teeth and sound a little more pleasant.

"Emma," Sif repeated, her smile realising itself. "Well met, Emma."

When the Asgardians found out Hook's name, they sent both him and Emma pitying looks as though they were in the company of small children who had to be humored.

"It's a nickname," Hook said with an edge to his voice. "You may think less of mortals, but we don't just name ourselves after our attributes."

"Which is a shame," Fandral jumped in with a grin, "because I –"

"– Have a big mouth," Sif interrupted, shoving him in the side until he falls into the dirt with a soft oof.

"Not what I was going to say, but also true."

The conversation turned to the pros and cons of the hook, which had its owner alternately preening and glowering.

"It would save time when drawing for a weapon, I suppose," Volstagg said, angling the hook until it caught in the sunlight.

"Only in close range," Hogun said with a shake of his head. "Its limits outweigh its advantages."

"How did you come to lose the hand?"

Despite Volstagg's conversational tone, Emma held her breath. Hook's amiable expression faded into something hard. He wouldn't indulge his new companions in their curiosity, that much was clear. Emma kept a close eye on him; she knew he wouldn't ruin their chances by being antagonistic but she was wary of him losing his temper all the same.

"You found that inappropriate," Volstagg said slowly, looking from Emma to Hook and back again. It was clear that he didn't understand why what he had said was insensitive but he continued, "Forgive me. When drinking on Asgard, we boast about great injuries sustained in battle."

Hook smiled without humor. "On Earth, we drink to forget such battles."

The conversation faded into an uncomfortable silence, interrupted by the crackling of the boar as it's speared and roasted over the fire.

"I am restless," Sif announced once they had eaten. She looked at Emma as she got to her feet. "Shall we spar?"

"We?" Emma asked, taken aback. "As in, me and you?"

Sif nodded once.

"Uh, that depends," Emma said, her words halting from surprise. "Will you close your eyes and tie one hand behind your back?"

Sif smiled. It had a wolfish quality to it that Emma wasn't super reassured by. "You doubt your abilities?"

"Against humans? No. Against ancient gods? Yeah, there's some doubt."

"Then I will teach you."

Sif held out her hand and hauled Emma to her feet.

"You should draw the outline of the compass," Emma said to Hook. "Thor and Loki should be back soon."

After Hook nodded, Emma allowed herself to be led away from the clearing, only pausing for Sif to retrieve a sword from a pile of weaponry by the tethered horses. Once they're in another, smaller clearing, she withdraws two daggers from beneath her clothes.

"Okay, seriously, do you guys just hide knives on yourselves to mess with people?" Emma asked, all the while thinking that it might not be the worst idea if she kept finding herself in these kind of ridiculous situations.

"It works to my advantage more often than not," Sif said, handing one of the daggers to Emma. "On Asgard, they think that women cannot be fierce. It took an age to convince the masters to train me, and even then it was only Queen Frigga's intervention which pushed them into acceptance." She glanced at Emma, unable to hide her curiosity. "It is the same on Midgard too, is it not?"

"It used to be," Emma said. "Still is, I guess. We're not fighting to become warriors, but we're fighting all the same."

Sif nodded. "Such as it is for women everywhere in the universe, then."

"Such as it is."

"A demonstration," Sif said, once she had outlined the daggers' origins and their namesakes. Emma hadn't cared at all about the history, truth be told, but she didn't want to seem rude. Now though, she moved forward eagerly and watched as Sif launched into a practice drill with her sword.

She moved with a fluid grace that could only have been achieved through centuries of hard work and practice. Emma watched her, awed and intimidated, as she flowed through the steps without once breaking her concentration. Emma recalled how she had wielded her sword filled with the knowledge that it was dangerous and could inflict pain and death, should she choose it. Sif held no such reservations. She trusted in her ability as much as she trusted that her weapon would not harm anyone she did not wish it to, including herself.

"I feel like I should clap or something," Emma said once Sif had set her sword down.

Sif smiled. "First, I would like to show you some of the more basic manoeuvres. If, after my instruction, you still feel like applauding, then by all means. Mirror me."

Emma copied Sif's stance, feeling half Xena-like and half completely ridiculous.

"You must tell me when you are approaching your limitations," Sif said as she raised her sword. "I have never sparred with a mortal before, and I am liable to forget your frailty."

Emma tried not to roll her eyes. She got that Sif was trying to be courteous, and that everyone on Asgard could probably topple her with their little finger if they wanted to, being gods and all, but Emma had always hated being told she was weak.

Sif's idea of 'basic manoeuvres' turned out to be springing different attacks on Emma and then teaching her how to defend herself. It was yet another reminder of how inferior Sif saw her, even though it seemed she meant it with the best intentions, but Emma had to admit that it was useful. She'd found herself being attacked way more than was fair lately and learning how to avoid being killed would be super useful.

"You have a natural talent," Sif said, throwing Emma an admiring glance as Emma blocked her attack.

"My parents are royalty," Emma replied, wincing as Sif pushed too hard against her shoulder. "Hey, frail mortal over here."

"My apologies. Royalty, you say?"

"Yep. They had a castle and everything."

"It is common for royalty on Midgard to take up arms?" Sif retreated and then sprang forwards again, narrowly missing slicing Emma's already worn jacket.

"Nah," Emma said, dodging the attack with all the grace of a three legged duck. Sif shook her head and corrected Emma's stance, making it easier for her to avoid the next swing of Sif's sword. "Usually on earth, people in power send out the less powerful to fight their battles for them. But where my parents are from, I guess it's pretty common."

"No, like this," Sif muttered, raising Emma's arm a fraction higher and twisting her hips around.

She's helping, Emma reminded herself. She's helping through weird, uncomfortable touching. Maybe personal space isn't a thing here.

Sif eyed her form and then nodded and returned to her attacks. She was going easy on Emma, that much was clear, but Emma still found that she was putting all of her energy into keeping far away from Sif's weapon.

"I think we should – take a breather," Emma gasped two minutes later. "You know, if – if you want to."

"Now is a good time to rest, yes," Sif said, amusement glinting her in eyes at Emma's failed attempt to hide her exhaustion.

Abandoning all attempts at grace, Emma threw aside her daggers and slumped onto the ground. Her bruises would have bruises.

"There are many ways of fighting," Sif said, sitting beside Emma. "Some are effective and yet dishonest. Honor is very important for warriors such as ourselves. There are many honourable dead gracing the hall of Valhalla." She gave a small smile. "When my time comes to join the great feast, I will welcome the battle which sends me there with open arms."

"If you keep to your convictions of honor above survival, that day may come sooner than you think, Sif."

Loki's voice preceded the man himself appearing in their clearing. Nothing unusual about that, except that he appeared on two opposite sides of the clearing at the same time. Emma glanced between each of them and tried to discern which one was real. Maybe both, maybe neither. Maybe, like the ravens, Loki was actually a really convincing pile of rocks.

"Honor in battle will grant you passage to Valhalla," the other Loki continued. "The ability to adapt will delay your journey there."

"Loki prefers to view his battles from a distance, behind a veil of sorcery," Sif said, and although she spoke the words to Emma, Emma got the impression that they were for Loki's ears.

Loki smiled as though the words had been the gentle teasing of a friend, although Emma noticed that there was tension at the sides of his mouth. One Loki faded from view, leaving only one turning to walk away from them.

"Thor and I have collected your ingredients," he called to Emma over his shoulder. "If you're finished playing Valkyries with Sif, perhaps you'd like to join us."
Sif glared at his retreating form with such vehemence that Emma wished she wasn't in such close proximity to so many sharp things.

"Kind of has an attitude problem, doesn't he?" Emma asked, trying to diffuse the tension.

"He is Thor's brother," Sif said, intoning the words as though she'd repeated them many times before, "and Thor loves him deeply."

Which Emma took to mean He sucks but there isn't anything I can do about it.

As they joined the rest of the group, Emma's stomach clenched in nervous excitement. The large compass etched into the ground was rudimentary but it was a promise. She didn't recognise the runes carved alongside the lines.

"Words of protection and safe travels," Sif supplied, noticing Emma's slightly frown. "Tokens of good wishes rather than actual magic."

Emma nodded, feeling her uncertainty fade into excitement and relief. She could be on her way home, finally.

"Still in one piece, love?" Hook asked as Emma took her place at his side. "Good. That'll make transporting you home easier."

Emma ignored him in favor of scanning the items Thor and Loki held. Her eyes settled on two long black feathers with doubt.

"Wisdom," Loki said, noticing her look and offering out the feathers. "Two feathers from my father's ravens."

Emma took them with a dubious look. "Birds?"

"Wise birds," Loki corrected. "They fly all over the Nine Realms at night and bring Odin news the next morning. They know more than you do, I'd wager."

Emma wasn't sure that wisdom and knowledge were the same thing (Knowledge is knowing a tomato is a fruit. Wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad, was an adage she had read once) but she'd wait to see if it worked before arguing.

"Wisdom points North," she murmured to herself, trying to figure out which way that was and then remembered that she was better off asking the man who had been a pirate for three hundred years. "Hook, North?"

"That way, love," he said, gesturing with his hook.

Emma nodded and placed the bird feathers down on the corresponding part of the carving. Based on that, she could work out the direction of East (for a symbol of courage), South (for a symbol of love), and West (for a symbol of innocence).

Thor held out the next offering. "For courage, I give you the sword which won the Battle of Kattene."

Hook took a long moment to admire it. Emma didn't have any particular knowledge or appreciation for swords, but she knew she wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of that one. Its edge looked sharp enough to slice her hand off if she even touched its blade. As Hook lowered it to the ground, Emma glanced over at Thor and wondered how many battles he had won for one sword to lose its sentimental meaning.

Fandral frowned. "I don't recall that battle."

"It was from three summers before I could first lift Mjolnir," Thor supplied.

"A simpler time."

Loki's comment went ignored. He glossed over the moment as though he hadn't said anything and handed Emma a scrap of material.

"This is for your symbol of innocence," he said.

Emma looked at it closely but couldn't see anything which marked it out as special.

"It's cloth," she said slowly, trying to uncover the trick.

Loki nodded. "Yes."

"Is it…innocent cloth?"

"It's cloth from an innocent." Loki stared at her for a long moment and then turned to his brother, despairing. "This, Thor. This is why we stopped going to Midgard."

Before Emma could retort, Sif stepped forward and tugged the cloth into her hands. Before Emma could protest, it was back in her hands.

"You cut up Baldr's cloak?" Sif asked with a glare which, Emma noticed, was mostly directed at Loki.

"We did," Loki answered smoothly. "It was doing no one any favors locked away in that case. Let's just hope that the spell can't differentiate between 'innocent' and 'sanctimonious'. Assuming it even works, that is."

Emma quickly folded the cloth and placed it on its marker. She didn't know if it was from some sacred figure in Asgard and she didn't want to wait around for Loki to gain some kind of morality and snatch it back from her.

"And as for love…"

They hadn't discussed it aloud, but Emma had spent time thinking of her son and the things she would do for him. If she had something of his with her, the love it would represent could probably power the spell alone. She had only ever felt like that about one person before, and she happened to have something of his on her.

"Here," she said, unclasping the swan necklace and letting it dangle from her fingers. "We can use this."

Loki looked at it critically. "What significance has it?"

Something that felt weirdly like guilt clutched at Emma's chest. She gave her explanation to Hook, the only one who would understand. "It was from Henry's father."
Hook's expression closed off and the ache in Emma's chest intensified. The Asgardians swapped looks, no doubt a more eloquent version of Well, this is awkward, running through their thousand year old minds.

Emma dropped the necklace over the final empty space and waited. Light pricked at the indents in the ground, as though a pure white glow was fighting its way up from the soil. The light bled along the carvings until everything was backlit in incandescence. Everything, that was, except for the necklace.

"Why isn't it working?" Thor asked, frowning.

"Perhaps the love is dead?" Loki suggested. "The necklace is clearly the only thing preventing the spell."

Emma picked the necklace up and watched as the light faded away. She held back from kicking at the rest of the objects out of frustration; they weren't the problem. The problem was, as ever, that her love wasn't good enough.

"Don't fret," Thor said, noticing Emma's forced restraint. "We can travel back to the palace and find something." His face lit up with an idea and he turned to Loki. "We can take something of Mother's!"

Loki shot his brother a dark look. "We are not stealing from Mother."

"It wouldn't be stealing," Thor implored. When Loki did not relent, he sighed. "Fine. Then we'll have to delay the Midgardians even further while we think of an alternative."

Emma bit the insides of her cheeks to stop herself from swearing. Delays. Always delays. She was about to see if she couldn't talk Loki round to stealing from his mother after all when Hook groaned and pulled something out from one of the deep inner pockets of his coat. Emma squinted at it, unsure of what she was seeing at first.

When she realized that it was one of the poisoned poppies from Oz, she stared at the pirate.

"You kept that?" she asked, frowning. "Why would you keep that?"

"Thought it might come in handy as a weapon," Hook said with a defensive edge to his voice. "There might be some sleeping dust still left on it."

"And you kept it?" Emma repeated, incredulous. "It already almost killed you."

"But it didn't, because you saved me. With a kiss." He didn't look at her as he spoke, too busy straightening out the poppy petals as though it would increase their chances of success. "Don't hold out too much hope, lass, it might not even work."

"I think you're long past playing disinterested," Fandral chortled. "Nice try, though."

Rather than think of the implications, Emma silently chastised Hook for being so stupid as to take one of the poppies. The sleeping effects he hoped lingered could have affected him again for all he knew. He could have plucked it when she wasn't looking and then she'd have turned around to find him unconscious again. Damn stupid man.

"Try it," Sif said, nodding towards the ground.

Hook complied. The group watched as light cracked through the soil once again, spreading like spilled water over the runes until it covered everything.

Everything.

The poppy was an acceptable symbol for love.

Emma didn't know what to say.

Those gathered stood stunned for a full ten seconds until Loki broke the silence with a dry, "Congratulations to the happy couple."

A/N: We're not done yet, loves, although there aren't many chapters left. More updates over the next few days (because I've been smacked in the face by Captain Swan all over again and want to beef up what I've already written). Also, for those who have seen The Force Awakens, holler at your fellow Reylo trash.) Thank you for your reviews/favourites/follows and general love.