Required reading: Little Fictive, Remembrances, Returning, and Waiting Game. 5th in "Little Fictive series".

Rated: PG

Facing The Music
By Jewels

It was early morning, but it seemed to Calliope that she'd been staring at these damned dossiers for hours. There was no end to it. If she hadn't been so efficient (or as her muses liked to called her 'so damned picky') then she probably would have drowned under the paperwork by now.

She finished adding a little note to the bottom of one of the recent reports on one of the latest graduating class and then picked up the next file, which had a large pink post-it note attached to the front. She opened it and started scanning it automatically.

Calliope muttered a few curses under her breath, rifling through the file in her hand. "Stupid, stupid, woman." she whispered, tossing her file on her desk, hand raised to her mouth as she contemplated quietly.

After an indeterminate length of time, she strode to the door and opened it, snapping to a rather startled looking Ganymede, "Get Ambrosia up here! Right now!!"

Ganymede looked rather startled. "Now? She's teaching at-"

"I don't care. Tell her to get someone to cover for her."

**

Ambrosia was less than happy at being summoned to Calliope's office, as if she were some muse-in-training. But the look on Calliope's face when she entered stopped her from delivering the tirade she had been mentally rehearsing on her way over.

"What is it?" she demanded.

Wordlessly, Calliope handed over the file and Ambrosia flicked through it, thumbing to the highlighted section. Ambrosia slowly raised her eyes from the dossier and gave Calliope a speculative look. She closed the file once more as Calliope said,

"Well?"

Ambrosia frowned and set down the file on Calliope's desk. "You know my thoughts on the matter."

Calliope frowned deeply, fingers absently traced the swirls in the wood off her desk. "That's what I thought."

Ambrosia opened her mouth, to comment on that phrase, but decided against it. "What are you going to do?" she asked evenly. She didn't have to ask. She knew the rules as well as anyone else did, the penalty for doing what Ma'at had done.

"Exile her." said Calliope flatly.

Could she had delivered it less kindly? "You want me to go and fetch her?"

Calliope thought about it, then shook her head. "No. Send someone intimidating. A War muse or something."

Ambrosia nodded slowly and backed out of the room as Calliope returned her attention to her files, taking that as a tacit dismissal. When she got out of the office, she noticed Ganymede's attention on her. She showed him the relavant section of the file, and he winced in sympathetic pain.

"Oh dear."

"No kidding."

**

Ma'at stood at parade rest in front of Calliope, who was filled with a mixture of self-righteous fury and disappointment. At the moment, the former had control.

"What were you thinking?" she demanded quietly. In a way, that was almost worse than shouting. Ma'at wanted to get into a blazing row, to scream her own rationalisations out loud, maybe to make herself believe them more.

"You knew what would happen and yet you did it."

"I did it to protect those fictives..."

"Oh really. We'll ignore those that have now been left to rot in Shantytown because of you, shall we? Is that your idea of protection?"

"I... I..." Ma'at, usually never at a loss for words, was at that moment, completely unable to speak. She lapsed back into silence.

"I don't suppose you have any idea of what you've done?" Silence. "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

What could she say to someone who had already made up their mind. Judge, jury and executioner all in one.

"Very well." Calliope straightened and her tone abruptly became formal.

"Your actions were inappropriate." Calliope informed her, and Ma'at fought the urge to snort in disgust. How would /she/ know what was appropriate? She hadn't been there. "And I cannot condone them."

Calliope sat down behind her desk, assuming the manner of a judge condemning a prisoner. "Ma'at, you are to be stripped of all your muse abilities, rights, and priviledges. You are forbidden from the grounds of the Imagination Collegium, and any associated properties belonging to muses."

Ma'at was ready to tell Calliope exactly what she thought of all of this, but remained silent, perhaps through long practice. "What about my writer?" she asked, trying to keep any trace of bitterness out of her tone, and not quite succeeding.

"We will find him a new muse." Calliope paused, rifling through the dossiers on her desk. "Pyx should suffice, it's been a few years since he's had an active Writer."

"Pyx? Isn't he the one that..." At Calliope's razor sharp glare, Ma'at automatically shut up, feeling as if she were just a trainee again, rather than a muse with a couple of thousand years of experience.

"Do you need an escort off the premises?" asked Calliope harshly, her eyes boring into Ma'at's. Did she think that she'd try to leave? What did she have to stay for.

"No." answered Ma'at quietly, feeling numb, feeling her muse abilities slowly draining away after Calliope's words.

Not a muse.

Mortal.

She trudged out of the office, ignoring everyone as she went, ignoring the curious looks of other muses, until she eventually wound up in the grounds of the Imagination Collegium, standing under the bright sun. She knew that, once she left these grounds, she'd never be able to come back.

Ma'at stared up at the tower, the most obvious part of the Collegium. Just stared. And stared. Then she turned around and started back into the building.

-To Be Continued...