Roger was quite familiar with the location of their next stop for he was standing outside of the Marler residence. Snow had begun to fall again, and he spotted a well adorned Christmas Tree in the window.

He looked to his left when he heard footsteps in the snow. He smiled when he spied his beloved Christina hurrying up the walk. Over her shoulder hung a bag larger than a purse, it was a diaper bag he realized when he spied the blanket wrapped infant in her arms. Unconsciously he lay a hand over his chest and exhaled. The baby was proof that she had come through the loss of Holly unscathed. He couldn't wait to follow the pair inside so that he could look upon his grand childs face, and find out if she had presented him with a granddaughter or grandson, not that it mattered to him at all, he just wanted to know.

"What's going on?" Roger asked, and cocked his head towards the door on which Blake had knocked instead of letting herself in.

"Watch and see!" Was Bert's reply.

Roger did as he was instructed, moving closer to his daughter.

"Come on Ross, I have to be at work in thirty minutes" Blake muttered under her breath before she knocked again.

The door flung open revealing an angry looking Ross. "You're late" He scolded, reaching out for the blanketed bundle in her arms.

"I know, I'm sorry. I ran out of diapers and had to stop at the store to get some. Only I didn't have enough money in my bank account so my card was declined" Blake explained sheepishly as if she had missed curfew one to many times, but had the perfect excuse perfected to cover her actions.

Ross took the infant from Blake's arms, and turned away. He didn't invite her in, but she followed anyway and shut the door.

"I'm sorry," She sighed.

"You should be! She's soaked through her pajamas!" Ross yelled.

Roger stepped in front of his daughter. "Take it easy, I'm sure she didn't do anything on purpose"

"He can't hear you," Bert reminded him, though she didn't need to for Blake walked right through him.

It was then that Roger studied his once vibrant and beautiful daughter. Her hair, while still red, was flat, and dull. Her skin mirrored that of her hair. It was dull, and there were deep worry lines across her forehead, and at the corners of her eyes which looked sad.

"What's happened to her?" He asked with alarm.

"Watch and see." Bert instructed.

"I know Ross, and I'm sorry. I would have bought diapers if I could afford them." Blake whined.

"Well great, now she has a diaper rash. Damn it Blake, you haven't been responsible for this child since the moment she was conceived!"

Blake's shoulders visibly slumped. "Ross, I don't want to argue with you. I didn't think I'd run out. I'm so sorry."

As Ross secured a dry diaper around his daughter's bottom he glared at Blake again. "That's the problem Blake, you never think and you're always sorry.

The baby began to cry earnestly then. Blake made a move towards her, but one look from Ross stopped her cold.

"She's home now. Go off to whatever Tom, Dick, or Harry plan to keep you warm tonight. Next week you had better make sure you have enough formula, diapers, and clothes for the weekend or you will not be permitted to take her for the weekend."

Ross lifted the infant to his shoulder and rubbed her naked back.

"She's cold," Blake indicated. "That's why she's still crying."

Ross sniffed and shook his head. "You don't tell me why my daughter is crying, do you understand me Blake? Now go on. Your visitation with her ended an hour ago." He glared at her through even narrower eyes. "Oh yes, don't think I didn't notice the time. That's strike two Blake. While in your care, Emily was neglected and got a diaper rash as a result. Strike two is you're being late in returning her to my custody. Now if you want to go for strike three, I'm happy to take you back to court and have your visitation revoked."

Roger once again stiffened. He recognized the posturing as a tactic he would use to get what he wanted, but watching it happen to his daughter sickened him. His hands formed clenched fists which he wished he could use for he would have punched Ross squarely in the jaw. Seeing this Bert laid a hand on Roger's shoulder.

"Come now, you've seen enough here." She told him.

"Yes, I have, lets go"

He expected to go back to the crash site, to make his decision, but instead they arrived at a strange yet familiar truck stop. Roger narrowed his left eye and squinted. He couldn't put his finger on why, but he knew this place.

Following Bert's lead he climbed onto a swiveling stool at the front counter. For being a truck stop diner it wasn't all that busy. He drummed his fingers against the yellowed formica as he waited for some sign of why he was there. When the door opened and the bell above it chimed he turned his head. He gasped when he saw Blake framed within the opening.

"Marler, you're late again!" came a faceless voice from the window that opened into the kitchen.

Blake scurried in, throwing her wooled coat onto an empty booth.

"I know, I'm sorry" She said as she tied a white apron around her waist. "I had to take the baby to Ross, and then we had a fight…" Her voice trailed off.

"I don't give a damn." The voice called out. "I need you here on time and for the duration of your shift. We're going to get our Christmas Eve rush any second now."

"Right," Blake muttered as she grabbed a pot of freshly brewed coffee from the coffee maker.

Roger turned towards Bert. "I'm sure I already know the answer, but what happened to my Chrissy. What made her leave Ross for this?"

Bert simply closed her eyes and shook her head.

"Damn it, how am I supposed to make an informed decision with no information?"

When she failed to answer Roger scoffed, but turned back to watch his daughter in action.

"Would you like some coffee?" She asked a pair of large men sitting in a booth close by.

"Nah. What I'd like is if you'd come out to my truck and give me a kiss under the mistletoe later. I hear your boss is closing up early."

Blake plastered on a fake smile and walked away.

"Slap him Chrissy!" Roger advised. "What a jerk!" He muttered under his breath.

Later when Blake took the man his dessert he reached around and grabbed her by the waist. Roger puffed up his chest and stood menacingly.

"Let me go," Blake said through clenched teeth.

"Ah come on darling, where's your Christmas cheer?"

"I said, let me go," She commanded more intently, her eyes burning with fury.

"Awe, baby, some sit on Santa's lap." The stranger dared her as he tried to pull her into him..

"For the last time I said let me go!"

"Where is her manager?" Roger asked. "She shouldn't have to put up with this!"

"Alright, geeze, I was just having fun" The stranger relented.

"Thank you" Blake said, and refreshed his coffee for him. "I'll bring your check in a moment"

As Blake turned around the stranger grabbed the hem of her uniform and moved his hand upward, touching her intimately. She shrieked before turning around and dumping the scalding coffee from the pot onto her lap.

"What the hell lady!" The man across the booth yelled as he jumped up from his seat.

"You bitch!" The other screamed. "We were just trying to have some fun."

With that, the owner burst through the kitchen door. "What's going on here Marler? God damn it, now I'm going to have a lawsuit on my hands for boiling this guy's junk. What's wrong with you? The customer is always right!"

Blake dropped the now empty pot, sending shards of glass across the greasy floor. "What's wrong with me?" She asked incredulously. "This guy grabs me and that is your response? How dare you!"

"That's my girl, you tell him Chrissy. You remind him you're married to Ross Marler, and he will take care of them."

"How dare me?" His lips twisted to form a lecherous smile. "I own this place, remember. I took you in when you couldn't get a job as the dog catcher in Springfield, remember? And this is how you repay me." His hands were flailing. The guy in the booth was moaning, and his buddy was threatening to call the police.

"Oh shut up, I know you guys were at least three layers under your jeans. He may be a little wet, and warm, but he's fine." Blake calmly told him.

The owner threw his hands up in the air. "Look, you dye job Lucille Ball want to be, I've had it. You're fired" He screamed.

Blake pulled the bow of her apron, balled it up and threw it at him. "Screw you, and Merry Christmas too"

She shoved the glass door open so fiercely that the glass rattled as she did.

Roger stood with Bert, watching the end of the scene, his jaw agape.

"I can't let this happen!" He stuttered. "She can't end up like this." He paused and furrowed his brow. "I can't let her end up like this, but I still don't know how she did in the first place!"

As before, Bert reached out her hand. "We have one more stop, and then you can decide." She said quietly.

Roger, knowing not to argue, reached out and barely touched his guide before he was transported yet again.