Devi glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He wasn't paying attention to her, having finally settled his gaze on the movie. She watched his dark eyes flicker back and forth when a character spoke, barely saw his chest moving as he breathed.

Why the hell was he so wary around her? It wasn't Devi who pulled out the knives on their date. Their ill-fated date so long ago. Was it remorse? Or was he simply afraid that she would try to exact some revenge for the months she spent locked in her apartment, terrified of everyone and everything that crossed her path? Only one person knew the answer to that question, and he refused to talk.

Still, perhaps she should try to talk to him. It was already 11:50, ten minutes until the end of Valentines Day. Ten minutes, and she would have missed her chance. The window of opportunity was closing fast.

She had been angry with him at first. When he called to "apologize" a few months later, she'd been furious. Furious that he was too much of a coward to say those things to her face. She had honestly wanted to kill him for awhile.

And then reality set in. He was just another poor, lost soul whose desperate attempt to reach out to another human being had backfired more horribly than either of them could have imagined.

She didn't completely write off his attempt to murder her, but as time went on, she understood the twisted logic behind it. The truth is, he was more terrified of her than she was of him.

Which is why she began talking to the boy called Squee. Sure, at first it was just a casual greeting and a query about the inhabitant of house number 777. Then Devi began to see what Squee's home life was like. Her information-gathering mission turned into the semi-adoption of a paranoid school-child.

And then she started following them. He would take Squee out sometimes, drive him to school or to a restaurant for a decent meal. Devi knew he felt sorry for the boy. Somewhere in his twisted mind, he knew that Squee was just like him. And he didn't want Squee to turn into what he was.

11:55. Five minutes left. Devi ran a hand self-consciously through her hair. He glanced at her, his expression unreadable. It seemed as though she needed to make the first move.

"Nny, I—"

"I'm sorry," he whispered to her, eyes downcast.

"What?"

Everything went quiet for a moment. Johnny glanced back up at her, something almost imperceptible changing in his eyes.

"I didn't want you to leave like the others," he continued, so quiet as to be nearly inaudible. "I didn't mean for it to end like that."

Devi could only stare at him in shock. Squee turned the volume down on the television, his large eyes fixed on the pair sitting on the couch.

11:57.

"It wasn't your fault. I had something beautiful…and my own fucking fears took over. I screwed up." He took a small breath. "I don't think I can fix it. I'm sorry."

11:59.

"Nny?"

"Yes?"

"Stop beating yourself up about this."

Thirty seconds left.

"What?"

"You heard me. I don't want you moping around like this."

"But I—"

"I don't care. I forgave you a long time ago." She turned to him and smiled.

Ten seconds.

"Besides, we only had one date. I think we should give it another shot before we say it's hopeless. What do you say?"

As the clock struck midnight, Johnny found it in him to answer.

"I think that would be a good idea."

Devi hugged him. "Great. Oh, and it looks like Squee's going to be spending the night here. His parents probably won't think to pick him up until next week. Where do you keep the blankets?"

Sometimes, time has a way of slipping away from you. Things that seem like they happened yesterday turn out to be from years past, and opportunities fly by without so much as an acknowledgement that they ever existed in the first place.

Luckily, some of those opportunities are caught. Chances are taken. Time heals all wounds, and if the timing is perfect, once in awhile, one can atone for one's mistakes.

-Nny

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A/N: so there you have it. the final chapter. heh. hope you all had as much fun reading this as i did writing it. as i write these words, the clock is striking midnight. i guess i made my deadline in a weird way...

-raven