Required reading: Little Fictive, Remembrances, Returning. 4th in "Little Fictive" series (as it's now been dubbed by the authors).

Notes: This part is written by Jewels and is a bit short, and the next will be written by Rhianna. This started out as a Shantytown bunch of stories, but we really don't think it can be called that now.

Waiting Game
By Jewels

Sarah didn't like the way her Writer's muse was pacing. She was sure that someone who paced that much would either wear their legs out, or make a path in the floor, which ever came first. The way that Ma'at's hands were wringing, the way that she bit her lip so hard Sarah was sure she'd make it bleed, it frightened the young fictive.

"Ma'at, please, sit down."

"Can't sit down," muttered Ma'at, sounding slightly crazed. "Can't."

Sarah frowned. Ever since Ma'at had disappeared for about a week - incidentally almost driving her Writer insane through worry - and then returned without warning, the muse had acted like she expected someone to jump out at her and try to kill her.

"Why not?"

"If I sit still she'll catch me, and I won't be able to run away." In spite of her words, Ma'at planted herself in the middle of the floor, legs slightly apart and covered her ears with her hands. "Oooh... I can hear them screaming."

Sarah wrapped her arms around her knees and instinctively shied away from the muse. Ma'at didn't used to be like this. She had been so calm, so serene, she'd never seen this side of the muse, it frightened her. It had also frightened her Writer, who had gone out of her way to avoid Ma'at until she was a little more... stable.

"Hear who?" she asked, out of some sort of morbid curiosity than anything else.

"Them..." Ma'at's hands fluttered in the air and she drifted around the room like a pale ghost. Her behaviour seemed out of place in the sunny, cheerful, room. "The ones she tortured. Begging me to make her stop."

She whirled, and Sarah instinctively flinched against the wall, but Ma'at wasn't seeing her, she was seeing somewhere else entirely. There were tears in her eyes. "I don't think I'll be forgiven for this."

She returned her gaze to the child fictive, seeing how scared the girl was, and her expression softened. She slowly, without making suddenly moves, sat down on the plush carpet next to Sarah, and, after a moment, put her arm around the little girl's shoulders. Sarah gave her as bone-crushing a hug as she could manage.

"I don't think I'm going to see you again." Ma'at told her. "Please forgive me for having done this."

Sarah looked up at the muse solemnly and pulled her sleeve over her hand, wiping the tears away as best she could, as her mother had done to her at some point in one story. "Why shouldn't I?" she said, snuggling up to Ma'at once more.

She didn't see the other's eyes fill up with tears again.

There was a loud hammering at the door which startled them both. "Come in." Ma'at's voice was barely audible, but the door swung open to reveal a muse with a rather militaristic bearing, an image not helped by the camoflage gear he was wearing.

"Ma'at," he said. "Calliope's sent for you."

Ma'at nodded slowly and carefully prised Sarah's arms from around her. She smoothed the fictives hair back from her face and gave her a brief hug.

"Take care of your Writer for me." she told her, hugged her once more and stood, following the other muse out of the door.

Sarah huddled into a foetal ball, suddenly convinced, beyond anything else, that she was never going to see her friend again.

-Fini