The child is tiny, olive-skinned, strands of black hair over its head, hands clasping at the wool. Etana moves from the door to stand behind me.

"How… Who… How?"

"His name is Steven Logan Rogers. He's three months old."

I've been dead a year. And in three months before that, I hadn't seen Etana once. Wait. I had seen her once. One night. The night before I was shot. The night Tony gave to us. I stare up at her with incredulous eyes.

"He's…"

"Tora worked it out. Told me before it became obvious. Already people were harassing me, wanting DNA samples from your clothes and toiletries because you were the only perfect Super Solider. And if they found out… If they knew… They'd take him off me. They did it elsewhere to another child of yours, after you disappeared. I wasn't letting that happen to me. I wasn't going to give up the only physical proof I ever had that you ever existed. It wasn't like Gail, not the way Tora said it! Gail wasn't married, she was only human. So I left. Just vanished in the night, ran away, with Tora covering my tracks. No one knew. No one could know."

"But… doctors… how did you…?"

"My mother carried me and gave birth to me with no help whatsoever. I had Tora for the last three weeks and for the actual birth. Women have been giving birth for many years and despite being a warrior, I have attended a few."

"But…"

"Steve, just shut up until your thick skull absorbs the fact you're a dad and try not to splutter, it makes you look stupider than you actually are."

"TANA!"

The baby starts crying and Etana glares at me.

"Thank you Steve. He's hell to get to sleep. Damn."

She scoops him up and starts to rock him, singing softly.

"In dem beys hamikdash, in a vinkl kheyder,
Zits di almone Bas Tsiyoyn aleyn,
Ir ben-yokhidl, Yidelen, vigt zi keseder,
Un zingt im tsum shlofn a lidele sheyn"

She repeats it again and again, rocking the child from side to side. No. Not the child. Our son. Rocking our son. You know, I think miracles really do happen.