Crassus hated O'Neill. He wished he had killed him on the trek to Villa Fecunda that very first day and it would have been so easy. But now he had to endure the man with his superior attitude. Crassus wanted everything O'Neill had: his strength, his character, his talents, his endurance and oh yes, his woman. He reprimanded him every chance he got, tried to humiliate him in front of others, forced him to do all the unsavory jobs but still O'Neill was liked by the other slaves and valued by the overseen, Cletus, whom Crassus thought of as a weakling and a fool. O'Neill knew that if he gave Crassus a hard time Sam might suffer so he took the bullying and suck up the anger he felt. It only fed the rage Crassus harbored.
It was a very warm afternoon and the majority of the household was in the orchard, most of the men stripped to the waist. Paulinus' tiny daughter often accompanied the slaves when they worked in the fields. She was playing at helping and this day tripped and tipped over a basket of fruit that was being harvested. Crassus cursed the child and raised his riding crop to her. Jack got between Crassus and the girl. He didn't say a word only looked at Crassus biting his lip to keep from speaking his mind and hands in clenched fists trying not to strike the first blow. Crassus slowly smiled and nudged his horse forward. From behind he let the crop slice through the air and raising a welt on Jack's back and missing the frighten child by inches. Crassus took some of the fruit from the cart and road off.
Finding Sam in the kitchen yard Crassus tossed her the fruit.
"We are harvesting these today, see what you think of our pomes."
They did look somewhat like a cross between an apple and a pear and were indeed fragrant so Sam took a bite. "A little bitter."
"Better when cooked"
And off he road. Sam returned to the kitchen nibbling on the fruit when Leda saw her she shouted. "Spit that out. Have you swallowed any?"
Sam looked dismayed. "Just a bit"
"Well it won't kill you but depending on how much you've eaten you might just wish it would."
"Poison?"
"Oh, it will give stomach cramps, maybe a bit of the flux but they are perfectly fine, actually rather tasty when cooked."
That night Carter did not seem like herself to Jack. She was pale and quiet and could not eat. He wasn't sure if something was bothering her or she was in pain. A few possibilities flitted through his mind but she didn't seem to want to talk about it. On the way to the barracks she stopped in her tracks hunched over with cramps and waved a finger in the direction of the latrines. She seemed a little better after a prolonged visit but when they got over to their bed she just sat there curled up guarding her stomach. He asked her again what was wrong and she let him know it wasn't anything to be concerned about just something she ate. Jack bent down and removed her sandals and slid her into the bed. He lay down beside her and rubbed her back as she fell into a light sleep. Within the hour the cramps returned with a vengeance and she brought her knees to her chest. Jack sat up and pulled her into his lap; at this point she was shivering and trying desperately not to moaning in pain. He covered her with the blanket, rubbed her back and made soft noises to comfort her. She again napped for about an hour or two and again the pains returned. He felt impotent as she writhed in pain; then she broke out in a sweat trying to pull the blanket and the very clothing from her body. He held her hands and tried to soothe her. She stilled in his arms and again seemed chilled. He tried to arrange her disheveled clothing but settled for just pulling up the blanket.
He was awakened two hours later but this seemed totally different. Sam didn't seem to be in pain instead she seemed to be dreaming and the snuggling occurring on top of O'Neill was disconcerting to say the least. He had to get her off him; attempting to lay her down on the bed everywhere he went to touch was bare thighs and exposed breasts. He slid out from under trying not to wake her, for in a few hours, they would be expected to assume the burdens of the day. Covering her yet again he lay with his back to her. He felt her stretch out, getting comfortable, her hands on his back and ribs, her knee rubbing against the back of his thighs and her beginning to murmur. He knew he couldn't sleep like this and the last thing he wanted to hear was that other man's name on her lips in an erotic dream. If the night hadn't been so exhausting for her he would have wakened her. And there it was so soft, barely voiced that he was sure it was a figment of his imagination. He lifted and turned his head and there it was again.
"Jack"
It was his name; it was him she dreamt about. Did Pete know that? Had he ever heard her call 'Jack' in her dreams? And the first thought he had was 'Fuck you, Shanahan, fuck you.' And the other overpowering urge, well he was only human. It took all his will power not to turn around not to take her in his arms, not to wake her with caresses and kisses. But not here, not like this. She stilled and he slept better than he had in quite a while.