This is a rather dark one shot I wrote for a "first line last line" challenge on the USA board. It takes place just after Purgatory.
Bobby thought it would never end, but it did. Of course it did, everything did. Six long months of emptiness he'd pretended wasn't fear. Over. So why was he back here at the end of this bar, his forth scotch sweating on the cocktail napkin in front of him? He told himself he was celebrating, but wasn't able to summon up enough denial to buy it. Absently, he drew a complicated pattern in the condensation on his glass .
"I hope it was worth it." Her words, flung at him in accusation, echoed in his head. The risk to his life? Yeah, it was worth it. Even the damned rat in my drawer was worth it. I did it. I did what I do best, I caught the bad guy. I earned my shield back. No one was going to do it for me so I did what I had to do. He took a long, righteous swallow. The amber liquid was floating down his throat now.
"I hope it was worth it." He'd thought it was worth it. He'd risked everything to get his shield back, so sure that if he survived the undercover assignment, he'd have his life back. He'd been in purgatory and the only way out had been a deal with the devil and he'd made it. Could he really say that he hadn't realized what it would mean to the only important person he had left in his life?
"I hope it was worth it." Hell no, it wasn't worth it, but when did that ever matter anymore? Life had ceased to consist of right choices and wrong choices, good or bad, worth it or not. Whatever choices he made led to the same spot. He could've slowly drunk his sanity away, cut off from the only thing he was good at, his only chance to do something in this world. Or he could betray the one single person in his whole damned life who'd had always had his back, who'd never flinched from giving it to him straight and then standing by him, right or wrong. The one person who…
Instead of finishing that thought, he drained the last of his scotch, the half melted cubes sliding into his moustache. He swiped the droplets away with the back on his hand and gestured with his glass to Mick. The portly bartender snagged the Glenlivet on his unhurried way down to Bobby's perch. Without asking, he dumped the soggy mess and replaced the napkin, refilling the glass with fresh ice and the kind of pour only a good tipping regular merits.
As the familiar ritual played out, Bobby reached for the peanut bowl and dragged it toward him. Eyebrows inching up, he tilted the bowl to get a better look. He looked up, the question on his face prompting a shrug from Mick. "Owner forgot to pick up peanuts this morning. Those are left over from Valentine's Day. What can ya do?" With another shrug he shuffled off back down the bar.
Bobby held up one of the heart-shaped pastel candies in front of his face. The tiny writing was a challenge to read at this point, but he managed it and snorted. Setting it down on the bar in front of him, he reached for his glass with the determination of a man no longer satisfied with being mostly drunk. Though he didn't look at it again, it sat there through the next drink and the next, mocking him with its little pink words.
"I Love You"