a/n: i felt this burning need for some fluffish angst. i am in love with richard.

edit: corrected some iffy grammar

Dear Myself/Diary/whatever,

The war is over.

Funny, then, how I feel so empty. We won, but we lost too much. Everyone who fought with us - men, women, children - everyone lost someone. Or something, like a leg or an eye. Everyone lost their innocence.

The people I lost weren't many. One and a half? Two? I'm not really all that sure. Scott, yes, who turned traitor but came back for Jamie.

And then Matt.

Why do I miss him so much? It wasn't like he was my family in any sense of the word. He wasn't related by blood. He wasn't much like me.

Then I reflect upon how he was. Family, I mean. We didn't even know each other for long. Two years? Funny, one and a half again. And we were related by shared experiences. That bloody witch Deverill. Then I almost, kind of adopted him and he turned into my son or younger brother. Always wanted one.

The shared experiences bit is really small, though, nothing more than Lesser Malling.

Yes, maybe we were together for about ninety-nine percent of the time but the rest of the Five can claim that, really. I was a deadweight. Why the heck did I stay with him?

because you're a stubborn git, that's why

I really hate it when my inner voice pops up and takes control of my hands to write stuff that I wouldn't normally write and-

Yeah.

Right now, the strongest memory I have of him is one night in York. GOD, NOT IN THAT WAY.

It never ceases to amaze me how perverted I can be with regards to myself. All of you (me?) can rest assured because I never thought of him in that way.

But back to the point. It was in the middle of the night and I had gotten up for something to eat. Didn't find anything, what a surprise. So I just chucked away all the expired stuff and began the slow walk back to the bed. Then I heard this quiet whimpering. Rather like a crying puppy, actually. It was coming from Matt's room so I went to check on him and he was crying.

Looking back, I really shouldn't have gone in. But at the time I was sleepy and worried so I just went to his bed and sat down and - I sound so gay now - began stroking his hair. He was muttering some stuff like no mum accident right vision wedding acid help sorry and it was like five minutes later when I realised he was still asleep. So I just sat there until he stopped crying and went back to my room.

I never, ever told him. It's actually one of the things I most regret, right up there with introducing Cassidy to opera and going to Greater Malling.

That's a pretty pathetic list, me. Tell me if anything changes.

So back to the point, the war. Holly was a wreck after the Five left. She was really close to Jamie - might've fallen for him too. She just stayed in her "room" and didn't eat for a two or three days. Lohan wasn't much different from his usual self. Perhaps being a Triad leader made him cold.

But then we went back home to London with Lohan going... somewhere? I have absolutely no idea. What a shitty home, like the setting for some dystopian future novel. We went to the pod, found out that Susan Ashwood was dead, mourned very little, spent some time healing (sounds so sappy, dammit), and then repopulated this tiny village.

I didn't forget Matt or the second Matt, the one who told me that I might meet them again.

Holly didn't forget Jamie. But she fell in love with a boy who liked her back and I'm the kid's godfather.

I'm forty-six now. I haven't married or anything. I just don't want the commitment.

Maybe I'll get married someday, and maybe I'll have a son. I'll name him Matt, and I'll tell him about what I've done and leave the last bit - where I stab his namesake - for when he's older.

So that concludes my overly sappy, extremely idiotic whatever that's as close as it gets to writing about what I've done. It's Holly's job and she enjoys it, I think.

The war is over. I am almost happy.

Yours,

Richard Cole