Hey all! I know, I know, I disappeared after such a crucial cliffhanger! But what can I say? Between moving to another country and beginning my masters, I had no time and no motivation to actually write. But life has slowed down, so I thought about finishing this fic! Hope you like it- I thought about making them have sex, but honestly, neither Spartacus nor Ilithyia were in a position in this fic to do so. This was all about Sparty meeting his son, and Spartacus and Ilithyia gaining some understanding of each other. Maybe next time? Read and review!

It seemed as if a small eternity passed before Spartacus's voice sliced through the quiet.

"Is he healthy?" The rebel leader asked, eyes fixated on the squirming bundle in Ilithyia's arms.

When she remained quiet, he repeated the impatiently.

"Yes," Ilithyia answered, voice unsteady. "He is a healthy child."

"Do you have a name for him yet?"

"What in the name of the gods are you talking about Spartacus?" Crixus's impatient voice intruded their strange tableau. "Kill the bitch, the brat, and be done with it." Ilithyia shrank back at the harsh words. Spartacus regarded her impassively.

"My quarrel was with her husband." He answered Crixus. "Not with her. I am no Glaber to punish those innocent of crimes for the deed."

"She is a snake. Better to trample her that allow her to strike again." One of the other rebels, a german from his accent, argued.

"Enough." Spartacus said. "Come out of there, Ilithyia. We need to have words."

Given no choice, she reluctantly made her way out of the carriage, stumbling as she got down. Spartacus steadied her, placing a hand on the baby's back, brushing his fingers over hers. Ilithyia once again cursed her reaction to him, as she shivered from the brief contact.

"Come." Spartacus commanded. "We have much to speak about."

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"And that is all I know about the current commanders in the army." Ilithyia said, voice hoarse from all the talking Spartacus had made her do. The rebel leader had wanted to know the location of the enemy, their strength, which consuls and tribunes were near the Roman Republic and would most likely be dispatched against them and much more. Ilithyia, through her connections with her father and clan, had known a great deal of information. She hoped her knowledge would spare her. If not her, then her child at least. Surely Spartacus would not kill his own blood?

"So the greatest danger to us is Crassus." Crixus mused from where he was sitting. Ilithyia resisted the urge to look at him. The gaul's encouragement to Spartacus to kill her and her baby was still in her mind. She wished he had been at that ill-fated celebration. Ilithyia would have driven the sword into his chest instead.

"It seems that the Senate will not be so eager to give command to a man so hated." Spartacus answered back, eyes looking farther away. Ilithyia knew his mind was already formulating strategies. Once again she marveled at his intelligence. If only he had been born a Roman. He would have been a fair match for her, and would never have disappointed her as Gaius did.

Her son started fussing, mouthing at her breasts, hungry for his next meal. Ilithyia shushed him, fearful for his safety now that all her information had been spent. Spartacus's eyes fastened on the bundle in her arms, and his eyes softened.

"Feed the boy." He instructed softly. She obeyed, turning to obscure herself before baring her breast to her hungry baby. Had Ilithyia kept an eye on Spartacus, she would have noticed his eyes darkening at the action. As it was, she heard him instruct his rebels to leave them and head back to camp.

"Someone should stay here with you!" The german, Agron, argued.

"I am safe here. There is no one to offer threat." Spartacus replied patiently.

Agron sighed, then shrugged, leaving with the rest of the rebels. Twilight fell as Spartaus and Ilithyia sat in silence, the only sounds being the suckling of their son.

"He is a beautiful boy." Spartacus said finally, coming closer to her and peering at the sleepy baby.

"Yes." Ilithyia answered back, quiet. She could see her attendant waiting for her near the carriage. The girl's loyalty had been such that she had not run, refusing to leave with the rebels. A part of Ilithyia's mind wondered at her loyalty. The rest of it was too busy plotting different ways to get out of the situation.

"It seems he favors you." Spartacus's voice broke into her thoughts. Ilithyia turned to look at him, but her was staring at the baby with great interest.

"He has your hair, and his face is yours."

"No." Ilithyia answered haltingly. Spartacus raised an eyebrow. "His eyes are yours. As are many of his features."

"His eyes?"

"Look." Ilithyia stroked the baby's cheek and its eyes fluttered open, glaring at her sleepily. Spartacus peered closer and chuckled at the green gaze that met his. Her son closed his eyes and went to sleep again, ignoring the larger world around him. Ilithyia wished she had that luxury.

"Are you going to kill us?" She asked Spartacus quietly. "Spare my son. He is a babe, not even the blood of the man you hated so."

Spartacus gazed at her thoughtfully.

"I have no wish to stain my hands with the blood of my blood. My sight is set now towards Rome, and freeing as many of my brother's as I can from the shackles of Roman slavery."

"You will not succeed." Ilithyia said confidently. "Rome will crush you."

"Perhaps." Spartacus conceded. "But Sura told me I was meant for great and terrible things. I move only to fulfill her prophesy."

"Will you never forget her?" Ilithyia whispered. She remembered his words to her on that forest floor, and wondered at the intensity of such a love. And in a deep part of her heart, despaired that she would never feel that sentiment for herself.

"No…I will die with her name on my lips and her image behind my eyes." Spartacus answered back. Silence descended on the clearing again.

"You have not answered my question." Ilithyia finally asked.

"I will not kill you Ilithyia. I will not kill my son. I do wish I could claim him, but my men will never accept an heir of Roman blood. More importantly…" here he paused, looking at the sleeping baby before continuing, "I trend on the path of the dead and the dammed. My son should stay away from me to avoid being condemned. Though I loathe the fact that he shall be raised as a privileged Roman, he will be alive. And he will be free. I can ask no more than that."

"I will tell him of you someday." Ilithyia found herself whispering. "Of his father, a slave who made Rome tremble."

"You lie." Spartacus said gently, raising a hand and stroking her neck. "But it is a sweet lie. Gratitude for speaking it."

Ilithyia swallowed. "Kiss me once." She said. "Kiss me as you would kiss her. As thanks for giving you a fine heir."

Spartacus looked at her, eyes unreadable. The he caught her lips with his. The kiss was so unbearably sweet, so unbearably passionate, that Ilithyia found tears running down her cheeks as Spartacus pulled away. He placed a kiss on his sleeping son's head.

"Be strong." Spartacus whispered. "Be brave. Value life, my son. Make me proud."

He kissed Ilithyia again, quick and deep.

"Go." Spartacus commanded hoarsely. "Go to Rome and do not look back."

Ilithyia hurried away to the carriage, where her slave was already sitting on the reins.
"I know how to make it move, Domina." She said shyly. Ilithyia nodded, getting on top of the carriage, holding her son securely in her arms. The horses started moving, and she kept her gaze ahead.

She did not look back. She did not need to. Ilithyia knew their paths would cross again. The gods were not done with them yet.