Author's Notes: Minimal character changes were made to Henry, Ava, and Nicholas to fit this story but I was surprised how little I actually needed to adjust. During a re-watch, I couldn't get out of my head how much Ava and Nicholas looked/acted like Captain Swan kids and thus this story was born. I'm excited to share it with you.

~ Prologue ~

Three hearts; seventeen-year-old Emma Swan hadn't heard anything quite so terrifying.

She used to sit in her jail cell and stare at the little stick, but it was just a piece of plastic stating a fact. Hearing "pregnant" and "baby" directed at her didn't give the stick new power or importance. Emma didn't know what to do with words she didn't fully understand.

Check-ups were weird. She sat in a boring room while a man with a gruff voice asked her to lay on what Emma couldn't determine to be either table or bed. She was there several times, but she'd never forget the first. Rhythmic beating in her ears rushed air into her lungs, as the man told her there were three hearts inside her abdomen. It wasn't a baby with three hearts, as she'd initially assumed, but three babies. Three individual lives grew inside her, getting bigger every day for nine months.

Emma moved her left ankle, feeling the bite of its metal cuff. Looking over her large stomach, to where her legs were propped up for the big moment, Emma wondered how they expected her to run away. The room was cold and far too white. Memory of three hearts kept her mind on track.

There was pressure on her back and she couldn't move. Strangers in medical clothes rushed around her and machines beeped in tune to the ticking of time. The wall clock showed it was nearly eight. Her birthday was almost over and three others were about to begin.

She was eighteen.

Emma didn't feel older yet; maybe it was buried under contractions and fear. While she'd learned not to expect any celebration of her birthday, neither had she thought it would become the worse day of her life.

The doctor's smile was genuine. He encouraged her and praised whatever Emma was doing; she didn't know. Her purpose in the sterile-stinking room was to push or breathe when they told her to.

Her body was at war with itself. Muscles below her ribs wanted the babies out but her heart's strength tried to keep them safe inside. Emma's enormous stomach was a cocoon allowing the babies to be hers; once she pushed, the harsh world beyond would take them away. One baby needed things Emma couldn't give, but three robbed her of any chance to try. They had a future outside the room. Emma couldn't be a part of it; she couldn't be a mother.

The babies deserved so much and she had too little to give.

Pushing was like emotional pain turning physical, as it ripped through her with merciless force. It was the most exhausting thing Emma had ever done - and she'd run across a city once when she was ten.

'It's a girl, Emma!'

Her body fought everything, even itself, but her daughter's cry snapped the strings of will holding Emma together. Trapping tears behind eyelids, she released a shaky breath. How was she sweating in a room so cold? It was distracting enough that the lights kept flickering. The baby's cry continued in the background as if the little girl mourned her break from the cocoon of her mother's warmth and safety.

Emma's hands gripped handles on either side of her narrow bed - how much tighter until the plastic breaks too?

She had to push out two more babies and watch as a stranger took them away forever. Did they know what was coming; was her daughter crying because she'd figured it out? Emma dug for the strength to keep going but found none of it inside her. She couldn't give them away and she couldn't keep them. Her heart and mind were split in the middle; Emma wondered how she was even still alive.

She couldn't see her daughter. As minutes ticked by, the baby's cries elevated the pace of the room. Emma was told to push again and she had to force it.

Why was the room getting colder?

'A boy!'

Why was the doctor was trying to make things harder? Emma didn't want to know she had a daughter and son. Their cries flooded her ears, so close yet she couldn't reach to soothe them. She wanted to hold her babies and never let go. Emma reminded herself of all the things that would go wrong if she did. Bad scenarios of being homeless, hungry, and out in the cold were her only comfort; nightmares of her memories and tainted imagination kept the babies at a safe distance.

The third baby took longer and doubled the agony tearing through her. Her body realised the consequences of emptying the cocoon. Emma screamed until her throat stung and she could no longer tell the difference between sweat or tears. The doctor announced she had a second son, and the room stilled. It was quiet and calm while a storm thrashed inside her.

There was no third cry.

Emma lifted her chin as high as she could, trying to see what was going on. Their backs were turned and the air's chill bit her skin. She gasped when the doctor turned around with a wriggling bundle in his arms. He was suddenly beside her; the baby was right there. She could lift her arm and touch him. Wiping a hand across her eyes to defog her vision, Emma caught sight of the bluest blue she'd ever seen.

Her baby had his father's eyes.

'Emma?'

She turned her head away, focusing on a spot of white wall across the room.

'Emma, just so you know, you can change your mind.'

She whimpered and gripped sides of the bed with her hands. The tiny cry behind her was a calling. Her body, sore and exhausted as it was, turned automatically towards the sound. The fight inside her was too complex. She glared at the doctor so he wouldn't think she'd changed her mind. Slowly, her eyes fell to the bundle.

A little hand waved in the air as if searching - did he know she was there?

Emma sniffed the cocktail of chemicals and sweat, and inched her hand closer to the baby. His fingers were so tiny. He vocalised a precious sound that shattered her trance.

She jerked her hand back. Emma broke into sobs and moved away again, shaking her head until sure the baby was out of reach. The doctor passed round the bed to carry her son away. Caught up in the moment, she'd missed the other two being taken from the room.

They were gone.

She was alone and had no continued purpose in the cold room. A violent sob tore through her chest and throat, filling every part of her that wasn't already hurting. Emma stared at the blurry ceiling and didn't know how to keep herself from breaking.

Her daughter and two sons were gone.

She had to give them their best chance, even if it destroyed her in the process. For months there were three tiny hearts inside her – their kicks, growth, aches and hormones became a part of her. What was she now without them? They formed within her and created a new Emma, but what happened next?

She didn't know this new Emma yet somehow she'd become her.

There was nothing left now. Nothing, apart from the only thing she could seek relief in: Emma would never have to explain to Killian Jones that she'd had their babies taken away.

~ Chapter One: Three Hearts ~

The boy had green eyes. When Henry showed up on Emma's doorstep to announce he was her son, his eyes were her first clue. He was her second child, whisked away before she'd processed that she'd given birth to a baby boy.

Had it really been ten years since the worse day of her life?

Emma supposed she handled the situation rather well. Sure, she was hiding in the bathroom feeling about to throw up, but how was one supposed to react? Her son was in the kitchen stealing her orange juice, and she was fine. She could get through this.

'You know, we should probably get going,' Henry said.

Emma barely set two feet out the bathroom when his attention was back on her. That was okay, she reminded herself. She gave birth to three babies and put them up for adoption. She survived that, so she could get through anything.

She looked at the boy's eyes and doubts clouded in.

Henry. She reminded herself this kid had a name. He wanted her to come home with him - which was as far as Emma could let things go.

'Okay, kid, I'm calling the cops.' Emma reached for the phone.

'And I'll tell them you kidnapped me,' Henry replied.

Emma put the phone down and looked at him. Oh, he was good. Not impressive, but good. She wished she could say she was better, but the kid won. It didn't even feel like a battle; one moment she had the phone and intention to call the police, then next she'd gathered her coat and was locking the apartment door behind them.

'Nice car.'

Emma ignored the kid and slipped into her yellow bug. He was too happy beside her and it made everything uncomfortable. Well, more than it already was.

Starting the engine and driving them out of Boston, Emma wondered if she'd be lucky enough to drive the four hours to Maine without any conversation.

'I'm hungry. Can we stop somewhere?'

If the first ten minutes was much to go by, Emma's wish for a silent drive was a waste of optimism.

'This is not a road trip; we're not stopping for snacks.'

'Why not?'

Emma gripped the steering wheel and willed herself to keep it together.

He probably had questions or was too curious for his own good. All she had to do was remain distant and boring, then he'd fade back into memories and out of the present. Emma would drop him back home with his real parents, who probably had a lovely house and big backyard, and be on her way. He was ten; kids got bored easily, right?

'Quit complaining, kid. Remember, I could've put your butt on a bus; I still could.' Emma was glad to be the one with the superpower because that was a blatant lie. Hopefully, it'd deter his interest.

She wasn't his mother, just the one who brought him into the world.

'You know, I have a name? It's Henry.'

Her plan wasn't working.

Emma turned onto the highway and kept her eyes focused ahead. Except for the few seconds she was able to glance at the object clutched on his lap. A book of fairytales. That conversation distracted him but further lessened Emma's confidence. He believed the stories were real and whatever problems he had she was going to fix them.

She exhaled and leaned back slightly. The kid – Henry – turned to stare out the window. It was dark so there wasn't much to see, but Emma was glad not be the focus of his attention.

It would be impossible to have never thought about her three babies in the ten years since giving birth. She'd tried not to, but every once in a while she'd see a little boy or girl in the street and wonder. The blue eyes of her second son still haunted her dreams sometimes.

Seeing Henry had awoken curiosities she'd never allowed before. He had her eyes and his brown hair wasn't as dark as Killian's. The triplets probably weren't identical. Emma had no idea, as she never got to see all her babies. What did they look like? Did they know each other - why did Henry come alone? Emma often worried they'd be split up; three kids were a lot for anyone to handle at once. It seemed the truth sat beside her.

An image of her baby with blue eyes came to mind - this time, she was unable to shake it.

'So, uh...You have a brother or sister?' Emma hoped she wouldn't regret starting a conversation when he'd finally gone quiet.

'Nope.' Henry turned to her, eyebrows raised. 'Do I?'

There was the regret. How could she answer? No, and let it be a lie. Or yes, and mess with his life more than she already was. Lying would be best, but Emma caught a glimpse of his eyes and hesitated. He'd found her. If Henry suspected he wasn't her only child then he won't believe anything else she said.

Liars weren't boring.

'You tell me.' Emma shrugged, pretending to misunderstand his question. 'How did you find me?'

'A website. It was pretty easy.' He also shrugged.

'Great,' Emma muttered. 'Why now?'

'Because today is your 28th Birthday, right?'

'Yeah.' She frowned. 'So? It's your birthday too.'

'So, it's 28 years since the curse was cast.' Henry held tighter to his book. 'That's when the saviour's supposed to come home and save everyone from the Evil Queen.'

'And you think I'm the saviour?' Emma tried to withhold a scoff.

'No, I know you are.'

The kid's determination didn't waver. When they finally drove through Storybrooke, Henry tried again to convince her the fairytales were real. It was a whirlwind of a night: meeting Regina; nearly running over a wolf, crashing the car enough to knock her out; then waking to find herself in a cell the next morning.

The irony wasn't lost on Emma.

Leroy, Marco, Sheriff Graham, Regina, Mary Margaret – the morning was a rush of people and places. Henry had a habit of running off, and she solved the mystery of how he'd found her.

By afternoon, between finding Henry and questioning his mother's cold social skills, Emma was emotionally drained.

She tightened hold on the steering wheel of her car, sitting with the engine off. She'd parked away from busier parts of the town and tried to convince herself to drive out of Storybrooke. Henry's pleas for her to stay just one week, and Regina's increasing dramatics, raised an unsettling feeling in her stomach.

Her instincts said if she left now, she'd only turn around to come back. Emma knew something wasn't right; something was...off.

'All right, Corey, if there's ever a time to get wise...' Emma dialled the first number listed in her phone.

'Yo?' Hearing her foster brother's voice, she paused to relish the sound; it was months since his last visit. 'Emma?'

'Corey, hey!' She exhaled. 'You would not believe the day I'm having.'

'Yeah? I doubt that.' Corey sounded amused. 'You could tell me there are bears on the moon and I'd believe you. So, what's up?'

Emma smiled. He was always ready to help or listen when needed. He hadn't shown up for her birthday but it was okay; that was Corey. He cared about her in his own way.

'I need you to tell me what to do.' Emma leaned into the car seat and ducked her head.

'No one tells Emma Swan what to do.'

'Corey, seriously.' She shook her head. 'Last night, a kid showed up on my doorstep and said he was my son. A ten-year-old boy with brown hair and green eyes.'

There was silence on the other end.

Corey took his time to grasp important or shocking situations. He didn't hang up or throw anything, just fell into a state of mental processing. Or he'd gotten better at disguising background noises when on the phone with her.

'Corey?'

'What do you need me to do?' he asked. 'And only the one kid - not the other two?'

'I don't think he knows about them. Henry. His name is Henry.' Emma said it aloud for the first time. He was a real person; a little boy with a name. All things that made the situation more difficult than it was.

'Em, what do you need from me? Where are you?'

'Maine,' Emma said. 'I need you to tell me what to do. His mother is kind of a hard-ass. He asked me to stay a week to...The kid's got problems. He believes fairytales are real and this whole town's been cursed by the Evil Queen.'

'You believed in fairytales,' Corey said. 'All those stories about you and Jones becoming pirates and slaying dragons. Every kid believes in that crap, right?'

'What if he's not happy?' Emma tried another tactic.

She didn't remember those stories with Killian, but supposed maybe their son...No, she couldn't call him that.

'Then stay a week.'

'Really, just like that?' Emma was angry. She realised she did want Corey to argue and convince her to leave town then never turn back.

'Em, the fact you're calling me means you want to run.' He sighed. 'But you don't want to feel guilty about it. And we both know you will, unless you make sure Henry's okay.'

'I need you to do something for me,' Emma decided. 'I need to know they're okay – all three of them.'

'That I can do.'

Emma hung up and stared at her phone, remembering the rhythmic heartbeats she'd been so terrified of. It started as tripled sound, then three cries, and now there were children with names and personalities; the triplets had never been so real.

Emma could picture the tiny bundle of blankets placed within her reach. The boy with blue eyes. Meeting Henry and speaking to him, how could she not think of his brother and sister as well? If Henry wasn't happy - if maybe he needed something more from her than just answers, then Emma had to do the same for the others. She owed it to them, herself, and even to Killian.

Emma brought three babies into the world and gave them away so they could have their best chance.

She had to make sure they got it.

Author's Notes: Link to the video for this story can be found in my profile. I hope you enjoyed this first chapter!