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Go to the prequel, Unruly Muses

Coming home Cassandra opened the door to a crowded room, "What the hell are you doing here, guys? You are supposed to be in the cellar!"

Methos just looked at her with the air of the wronged all around him, "I won't go back down there together with them." He stressed the last word and pointed at the two men sitting on the couch. "They are noisy, nosy and not properly housebroken . . .", Methos said about the new muses.

"Now just wait a minute, relict . . ."

"Guys . . .", Cassandra started but her voice drowned under the cascade of curses that were muttered. If I'd known from the beginning on that those four wouldn't get along with each other I wouldn't have started reading "Once a Thief" and I certainly wouldn't have told Chris about those stories . . ., she thought wearily. "Stop it!" All four of the muses shut up and looked wide eyed at her. "You don't want to make Chris come out of the learning-room, now, do you?", she asked while shrugging out of her coat and casually hanging it up while glaring at the men. "What's the problem with you, guys. It's not as if you're living in a cupboard, hell, the cellar is bigger than one floor of our house!"

"They are just not accustomed to share their writers", the darker haired of the two men louging on the couch, Mac Ramsey, said with a wide smile.

"Now wait a sec! I never saw them write - not to speak of publishing - a story featuring you two!", MacLeod piped up.

Methos glared at the new muses, "And they won't, believe me. Our writers don't do stories with two imbeciles like you . . ."

"'Your'?", Cassandra asked. "Methos, I hate to tell you but Chris and I aren't 'your' writers. If somebody owns somebody here it would be us owing you. NOT the other way 'round." Sighing she sat down on her bed after shoving Methos feet down. Her knee hurt, she was hungry and she was almost dying of thirst. Not to talk of the head-ache that was starting to build behind her eyes. "Who of you had the kitchen today?" Silence answered her and she knew there was something bad just waiting beyond the horizon. "So? Duncan?"

"Äh", MacLeod stammered, looking down onto his folded hands.

"Vic?", she turned to Victor Mansfield, who didn't say a word. Finally Cassandra sighed and looked at Methos, "Tell me, Methos, whose turn was it to cook?"

"That was one of the . . . äh . . . things we couldn't agree on . . . so . . ."

Sighing again she held her hand up to stop the oldest Immortal, "I've heard enough. Duncan, go and cook. Methos, the cellar needs cleaning. Mac, the bulb in the toilet isn't working. Vic, the CD player is going nuts again."

All four of them were staring at her for a few seconds and then started speaking all at once, forcing Cassandra to put her hands over her ears, close her eyes and repeat 'I can't hear you, I can't hear you, . . .' until suddenly all noise ceased. As she hesistantly opened her eyes again she behold her sister standing in the door.

Her very presence - and the glare she gave them - made the muses absolutely silent. "What. Is. Going. On. Here", Christine asked, pronouncing every word as if speaking to a small child - or a very unruly muse. Given allowance to talk all four of them started again. "Quiet!", Chris said. Even her normal volume was enough to shut them up again. "Cass, what is going on?"

"They refuse to do, what I told them. They didn't do the housework, they didn't change the bulb in the toilet and they didn't cook."

Chris shook her head, "Oh boys. If you don't do what is standing in your cantracts we can throw you out."

Methos gave an unbelieving laugh, "Contract? I never . . .", he stopped at the evil grins on Christine's and Cassandra's faces.

"What do you think was the sheet of paper you signed the first day here?", Chris asked, fishing a page out of a drawer, handing it to Vic.

He looked at the sheet, reading aloud, "'I, Victor Mansfield, am willingly working as muse for Christine and Cassandra Pierson.' There isn't anything in it about throwing us out . . ."

"Turn it around and read the line at the bottom", Chris told him.

"'Further I aknowledge the fact that they can throw me out as soon as they want if I go against their wishes and rules in any way.'"

Four speechless muses were staring at Chris as she took away the sheet, "That's standing in all of the contracts. So . . . if you don't want to end up as homeless muses you better go and do your work. And feed Cassandra, she needs it", she said as a loud rumble sounded like thunder in the silent room. Then she turned around, just to stop and say, "And if one of you ever - I repeat: ever - is that loud again while I'm working I'll lock you up in the cellar until you're growing roots. Understood?" She didn't wait for an answer.

"Feed me . . .", Cassandra grumbled. "I'll wake her tomorrow, I swear . . .", her voice echoed in an empty room as the muses were busily doing their chores. "I just hope they learn from their mistakes . . . but thinking of 1996 I don't think so."

Ding, ding, ding, ding . . . A hand creeped out from under the sheets, taking the clock with it and soon the noise ceased. Suddenly the door flew opened.

"Raise and shine, my lovely writers!", a bright voice sing-songed and opened the curtains and the windows wide. "It is a beautiful morning and the birds . . ." Mac Ramsey turned around and ducked in time to dodge a pillow and a Mortimer (a hated chemistry book).

"Go 'way", Cassandra mumbled, burrowing in her last pillow.

"And close the curtains before you go", Chris said.

"But . . .", Mac started.

"What the hell are you doing here?", Methos voice hissed from the doorway. "Close that window and come out! At once!"

"I just . . ."

"Wanted to commit sucid", Methos concluded and pushed him out of the bedroom. Closing the window he picked up the pillow and the book, giving the pillow into the outstretched hand of Cassandra.

"Thanks, Meth", she mumbled and burried herself deeper in the sheets. The book ended up on the table.

Left alone Chris asked, "What'll you do to him?"

"Whom?", came the sleepy reply.

"Mac of course!"

"Don't know, but I'm sure I can think of something when I'm awake."

"So?", Chris asked, taking another spoon full of her muesli.

Sighing Cassy leaned back, leaving her spoon in her bowl, "I'll ignore him."

Eying her sister unbelievingly Chris stopped munching, "Who are you - and what did you do with my sis?"

"Oh! Cut it, Chris! He hates being ignored so much that he'll do everything I want him to in seven days tops. He'll eat out of my hand", Cassandra said, a confident grin on her face.

"Want to bet on that?"

"Why not?"

Chris smiled, "I bet that you'll need two weeks. One month that you need two weeks."

"You've got a bet, sis. One month of absolute power over the household, including the loser - and rightness, of course."

A hesistant knock disturbed them and Mac opened the door, "Sorry for the morning, I just thought you wanted to stand up with the clock."

Chris smiled and shook her head, "It's okay, we'll survive."

Cassandra was totally encrossed in stirring her muesli. "Äh, Cassandra, do you like some tea?" She didn't react. "Chris?"

"Please", Chris answered and watched the new muse exiting the dining room while throwing worried glances in Cassandra's direction.

"Step one", Cassy murmured smiling.

"Uh, Mac, I don't think you should go in . . .", Methos said casually as the young thief passed him by.

The dark haired muse turned around to glance at the ancient Immortal with an anguished expression on his face, "Is she still angry with me?"

Methos nodded, "I fear yes."

"But I just wanted to be a good muse and now one of my writers doesn't even look at me. She doesn't eat what I am cooking and she . . . she hates me . . . What shall I do? Will she ever talk to me again?"

Shruging his shoulders Methos patted Mac's head, "as soon as she kicks you out you'll know . . ." With this he turned around and walked away, whistling.

"God . . . how I hate him . . ."

"Don't worry, as soon as he's certain that you're not a thread to his 'property' he'll be fine with you two here", MacLeod suddenly said from his right shoulder.

Mac whirled around to look at the Scot, "And what does he view as his property?"

Smiling MacLeod opened his arms wide, "The house, everything within, Christine, Cassandra, me . . . the state . . . and as soon as he accepts Vic and you, you two will belong to him as well." Then he just followed Methos path.

Mac just stood there, staring after the Immortal. Blinking he shook his head and hurrried to get back into the cellar. It was weired but Methos only picked on him like that if he were sure that they were alone. And now Mac was in sore need of a shoulder to cry on.

Stepping out of the shadows of the doorway Cassandra frowned. She had never seen Methos like that. She was sure it was jealousy. Shaking her head she went back into the library where Chris was sitting at the computer.

"Did you get the hot chocolate?"

"Nope", Cassy answered, slumping into the right one of the two big chairs standing in the middle of the room next to a small table. "But I saw something really strange . . . Methos speaking with Mac."

"What's weird about that? They are lovers, why shouldn't . . ."

"Not MacLeod! Mac!"

Chris turned around. "Oh."

Cassandra caught her sister's gaze and nodded. "Did you know that he is behaving strange around Mac? Only if nobody is around, I mean. He's being more sarcastic, ironic and mean than I've ever seen . . ."

"I think you're just imagining things here, Cass. He isn't the type to . . .", Chris said only to be stopped by her sister's dark stare. "He's jeallous? But why? We won't stop writing about Methos and Duncan just because . . ."

"He sees a rival in Mac", Cassandra interjected unpatiently. "They are too much alike: sarcastic, shields 100% intact 24 hours a day, tall, dark haired, fair skin, the black hole in their pasts, behavior like a five-year-old almost all the time . . . he thinks MacLeod could be . . . äh . . . attracted to Mac!"

"But Cass, he knows that MacLeod loves him . . . maybe you're just mistaken . . .", she stopped at her sister's expression. "And what do we do against it?"

"I'll stop my campain. Methos is too sure I'll kick Mac out", she leaned back, rubbing her temples, "I think it's time for a group therapie . . ."

"You think that'll help?

"Not with my head-ache, but with their problems maybe. If I'd known that they woulnd't get along I would never have gotten you to read Once a Thief-Fanfiction", she sighed and exchanged a pained look with her sister. "What would you do, Chris?"

"We could try that therapy thing", Chris said, "but I'm not sure if it'll work." Turning around to the computer she started typing. "We'll see tomorrow."

"Yeah, we'll see."

The End

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