Another Rainy Ending

The lie was never worth it. He understood that now.

Daniel flopped down on the muddy ground between two nondescript markers in the graveyard.  Taking a swig of  whiskey directly from the bottle he stared up into the rain.  The battered, too small fedora he wore, falling to the ground.  

It'd been a year since then.  Since the world was saved, but everything worth dying for destroyed.  A year of nights interrupted by memories of red hair and piercing blue eyes; of blood on the snow.  It'd been long enough for Daniel to understand that his friend had been right.  The truth had to be told, that justice had to be served.  

So he tried.

Now he was here.  Drinking with two silent friends and waiting.

Gathering up the fallen fedora he leaned on the simple marker named “Kovacs,” and took another drink, savoring the burn of the whiskey through his system.  

It was five to midnight when he felt the cold press of a revolver against the back of his head.  Chuckling sadly to himself, he didn't even flinch at the implications.

“Just remember to bring us flowers, Veidt.”