A callused finger reached out, tracing the corner of Cortana's lips and slowly moving up her cheek. Cortana dozed, her chest rising and falling smoothly underneath the thick layers of the hospital sheets. The room was clean, though not as clean as John would have liked it to be. From his perspective even the smallest mote of dust met with stern disapproval. It may not have been a stable and a manger, but Cortana still deserved better after all she had done.

Cortana continued sleeping, a low whistle coming out of her mouth as she breathed. John had always found it endearing. He loved to watch her sleep. It made him feel like anything could happen next.

His hand left her cheek, and moved down to the infant cradled protectively in her arms. He, unlike his mother, was wide awake, staring up at John with wide blue eyes. Even if John had known that most infants had blue eyes when they were born he would still have insisted that the color of his son's eyes would stay the same. They were simply too similar to his own, the same bombardier blue as his father's. He was surprised at just how intelligent those eyes looked, as if his son knew exactly what was going on. His hair was messy and black like his mother's, and his nose was similar to hers as well. In fact, with the exception of the eyes, John thought he looked much more like Cortana than he did him. John reached out to touch his son for the first time, but withdrew his hand quickly when his son began to cry.

Cortana eyes opened quickly, casting a bleary gaze down at the infant. "Shhhh," she cooed, bringing the child onto her shoulder and gently patting his back. It was then she noticed the shadow looming over her. Cortana looked up, and as her son's cries began to fade fresh tears formed for her. "John," she said, the name coming out in a croak. She leaned her head into him, and John wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry I wasn't here."

"I'm tired of hearing you say that," Cortana said, wiping her eyes on his shirt. She leaned back and looked up at him. "Please tell me this isn't a dream."

"It's not."

Cortana gave a half hearted chuckle. "And why should I believe you?"

His eyebrows furrowed, as they always did when he was thinking. Even now when she no longer had the luxury of living inside his head she could still read almost every thought that passed along his crinkled forehead. It came as no surprise then when he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers. Those lips, like the heat of the sun upon her skin, felt real.

Cortana visibly shuddered when they parted. It had been so long, and even giving birth only a few hours before did not fully subdue her desire. Her son, who was still propped on her shoulder, babbled into her ear. Cortana brought him back down to her chest, propping his head up so that he could look at John. "Jack, this is your father."

Again, the look in his son's eyes made it seem as if he understood. John knew before hand that his son would be vastly intelligent, even more so than his mother, but just how intelligent was still undecided.

"Can I…" John began to ask, but a disapproving look from Cortana stopped him.

"You don't have to ask," she replied sternly. She lifted Jack up and handed him to his father. John was painfully careful as he took Jack into his arms. He could have sworn Jack would have weighed more. It sure felt like a few extra tons had just fallen on his shoulders.

John cradled Jack in one arm, his son still staring up at him. One of his tiny arms began to struggle to get out of the blanket he was wrapped in. John undid the blanket with his free hand, and nearly flinched as Jack's pudgy purple arm launched upward and grabbed his father's nose. It was not just the speed that was startling, but also the strength in those little fingers. Jack gurgled happily, and John felt a strange tightening in his chest. It was almost painful, and he held his son even more closely to him.

Cortana had never seen John cry, would not see it now, but this was the closest she had ever seen him come to doing it. As carefully as he took him, John gave Jack back to his mother. Cortana wrapped the blanket back around her son, brushing a finger across his cheek when she was finished. "I know what you're going to say, that he looks more like me than you." Cortana shook her head. "I don't believe that. Anyone can tell that he is his father's son through and through. You should see how serious he looks when he's…" She looked back up, only to be greeted with the cold emptiness of the hospital room. It was dark, the streetlamps from beyond the window providing the only illumination. Cortana's heart slowly sank. In her arms Jack was not awake, but asleep. Had been that way for most of the night. Clutched in his small fist were a pair of dog tags, the number 117 shining clearly in the dim light.

Cortana remembered.

She remembered John lying there in the dirt, his helmet cast aside, an empty hole where his right eye had once been. She remembered begging him not to remove the dog tags from around his neck. John did it anyway, placing them in her hands. He had known what Cortana had refused to believe. His luck had finally run out. She remembered their last kiss, which had tasted bitterly of blood he had coughed up in his final moments. A kiss she never wanted to end.

They had buried him where he had fallen, and moved on the next day. Cortana would never be able to visit his grave, did not even have a picture of his face. Only the dog tags, and the quarter. Both were Jack's birthrights.

Nothing had been easy afterwards. The enemy had discovered Cortana's pregnancy, and was imbued with the knowledge concerning the importance of the child. For all nine months of her pregnancy Cortana had been hunted, and no less than five attempts on her life had been made. She had personally killed two of her would be assassins. More than most, Cortana had suffered to bring her son into the world. To bring John's son into the world.

Had he been here?

Cortana traced a finger along her lips.

It felt real. She thought, and let it replay itself over and over in her mind until she fell back asleep.

It felt real.