Johnny paced, unbothered by taunting voice inside his head, over his dust laden, threadbare carpet. The voices in his head had long ago ceased to tell him to kill, tell him to murder, and to drive him closer and closer to insanity. Now, his head was clear, and all that he could think about was those jade eyes. Of that beautiful hair...that clear voice. Of what so very nearly was.

His gaze traveled to the knives he had emptied out of his coat. God, there were so many of them...So many awful memories and horrid nightmares. Oh so many empty eyes...

He shrugged off his trench coat and walked to the discarded knives, his mind still on Devi. After a moment, the chose his thinnest, sharpest blade. It was sharpened to the pint where, if it were to be drawn across a throat, it would merely feel like a feather on the skin. This was exactly what he wanted.

Leaving his coat and the other knives, he left for town. For an apartment building. For a chance he would never get again...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Devi wiped her hands on an old towel, studying her most recent painting. A black rose, tied with a blood-smeared white ribbon on the stem, resting in broken glass. She hadn't thought about what she was going to paint when she set brush to canvas and this was the result. She was very pleased with it.

There was, she had to admit, a lot of symbolism in the painting she had not intended to convey. The rose represented the ones Johnny used to give her with that shy smile upon his face. It also, in a way, represented Johnny himself. Both were rare things, with a hidden beauty that so few saw or understood. The ribbon was Devi's trust in him, once so pure, but now stained forever. The mirror was the one in Johnny's house, which was now as shattered at Devi's dreams.

She set the towel down and shook her head. Dreams...She still had dreams...Some still involving Johnny. She couldn't explain it, but she still loved how kinds he had been. Saw past what he almost did. She had an unexplainable feeling that he couldn't help what he'd done. Anger, however, tended to dominate that feeling.

'Damn...' Devi thought with a small smile, 'I am one mixed up chick...' She gave a dry chuckle at the fact.

Then, she turned to face the door. Someone was knocking... Her eyebrow raised when there were no squeaks from Spooky following the knock. Who else would be at her door, if not Tenna?

'Time to find out.' She thought.

She tossed the towel aside and crossed the room to open the door. She put her hand on the knob, something she had done countless times before, and was suddenly filled with a feeling of foreboding.

'Stupid...' She thought and shook her head. She opened the door, the feeling still clinging to her heart.

Looking out, still half-expecting Tenna, she found the reason of her twisted stomach and gasped. There, on both knees, extending a knife held by the blade to her was...Johnny. His thinness and pale pallor had worsened since she'd last seen him, and his hair was a mess.

Anger, hot and sudden, filled her. She raised a hand to strike him, her face contorted with rage.

"Devi..." He said as he raised his head.

Something in his voice, she didn't know what, made Devi lower her hand.

"What," She said in a voice so cold the walls seemed to have frozen over, "in the hell do you want? Why are you here?"

To apologize the best way I know how." His eyes, searching Devi's face, were filled with a regret and pain that made Devi's heart ache. He held the knife out to her, still gripping the blade.

"What do you mean, Johnny?" The words were harsh.

"I mean that if you don't forgive me, you can have revenge. If you can't bring yourself to forgive me, then kill me. I'd anyway, but I think it's fitting that you have revenge if you want it."

Devi looked at him, struck dumb, her mouth slack. Her eyes were still holding her anger, but it was fading. Though, apparently it hadn't faded enough, because Johnny told her,

"I see you're still angry. Please," he bowed his head, "you don't forgive me: Be my suicide."

"No."

The word was out of her mouth before she could stop it, but she had no regrets that she'd said it. Johnny's head snapped up, a look of utter disbelief on his face.

"What?" He breathed.

"I said no." Devi kneeled beside Johnny, taking the knife from him and throwing it aside. "There is no way in hell that I'm going to kill you."

"Why?"

"Because I forgive you." Devi smiled at him.

Johnny opened his mouth, decided not to speak, and closed it again.

"You do?" He finally found words.

"Yes."

Johnny smiled.

"You changed your hair."

"So did you." Devi laughed at the two antenna-like chunks of hair on Jonny's head.

"Not by choice."

"I'm sure it's a long story."

"Yes. But...interesting."

"I'm sure."

Johnny was still looking at Devi as though he couldn't believe he wasn't dreaming. Then, after a moment's thought, he leaned forward and kissed her.

"Wow..." Breathed Devi when they broke apart, "I can't believe we missed that the first time."

"Well, let me make up for that." He said, and then kissed her again.

A squeak came from down the hall, followed by:

"Finally you got a boyfriend!"