I have lived a lot of my life on the run. I lived a lot of my lives with masks, but there is something about this child, my Brat. I use my journal as a sort of storage dump, to keep memories for me, since I can not always keep my memories in my head. Why do I write about the Brat? Because, one day, it may come that he’ll pick the wrong fight, or that all those morals MacLeod took such pains to instill in him will lead him to die for some cause, and I will lose him. I could hate MacLeod for that. Right now, I sit here listening to one of those stations Richie programmed. For some reason, it reminds me of that child. Could it be that after 5200 years, I’ve fallen in love?

Today was perfect in my eyes, which is odd for me. I woke up to find Richie curled up, face to face with me, his head on my shoulder. His hair smelled faintly of the strawberry shampoo I always make sure to keep on hand. When I tried to move away, he pulled me back, only to snuggle his face into my chest. He’s right- his nose does get cold. I have no God, yet, I still I have faith. I know whatever started this Game, whatever decided the rules, has allowed me to have him, and I really don’t want to let him go. Bloody Hell who ever said I play by the rules? I’m going to keep him, anyway.

That song keeps running through my head, I can’t shake it. When I look over at Richie, I realize how much this song reminds me of him. It’s simple and sweet on the outside, but it does know more than what it says. The one line that really vexes me is that, ‘And I could not ask for more’.

Ah, Brat, what have you done to me? It was easier, when I could leave for a while. Yet, if I leave, you will be positive that it’s your fault- that you were not enough to keep me. Do you think, Brat, that I do not see that every time you wake up you reach for me, to check if I’m still there? Do you think, I don’t see how you light up when you realize I am there. I want to escape. Just go and walk away all the thoughts, until I know I can do this- but I can’t. I can’t, if I want you. And I do want you, Brat.

Damn that song, it makes me think. When you told me that being here was right for you, that being here was what you were meant to do, I should’ve realized that you wanted to know if it was right for me. It is. I wish I could tell you this as easily as I write this. However, I know you can’t read this, and never will, so it’s easier. Strange- I know all this about you and me, and yet I still hurt you, without meaning it. I run away from getting too close. Damn it, Brat. You already have my heart, you have my mind, now you wish my soul. It would be easier if I could run away or pick a fight that would make you leave me, but I don’t want to.

I know that I claim not to believe in a God, but only such a being could make you, Richie. I can’t help what this song is doing. I can remember all the times I sniped and bit at you and you did... nothing. You love me unreservedly. I will not let you be hurt. You were right- sigh, you are making a habit of that, Brat. You were right, you belong here with me with you and I belong here with you with me. Happy? I thought I’d got rid of my conscience, but I guess not. I guess that’s enough to write in here for now.

Closing the book, Methos walked over to the bed. I guess I should wake him up now. Climbing onto the bed and kissed those delicious strawberry lips.

"hmm nice."

"Thought you’d appreciate that- move over, it's cold out here."

"Finished writing?"

"Yes. Richie, did you know in my tribe, before my first death, everyone had two names. One was used to talk to us everyday, the other was know only to five people, beside yourself. Your parents, the medicine woman, the magic man, and your mate. It was a name of power, one you only shared with those who were a part of your soul. I couldn’t tell Kronos, or the others- they’d use to enslave me, I haven’t even told Enkidu it. Richie," his voice dropping to a whisper, "my name is…" Methos whispered it into Richie’s ear.

"It’s beautiful. What does it mean?"

"Eternally Beloved."

"You are."

"I know. Now let’s get to sleep. If I remember correctly, MacLeod supposed to come get you ‘early’. The damned Scot thinks an hour before dawn is late."

Richie lay his head over Methos’ heart.