He was tired now. He didn't care where they landed. He just wanted to be done.

"Where are we now?" He sighed the question, but Bert didn't answer. She simply jut a finger outwardly.

Once again, Roger turned around and spied the Christmas tree in the window. He was back at the home that Blake and Ross shared, or had shared as they were obviously no longer together.

"Why are we here? I've already seen that Chrissy's life, the life I knew her to have just this very morning is over"

Bert was quiet, annoying Roger further.

"Come on damn it!" He cried. "This is torture. Before you were willing to give a running commentary, and now you've suddenly become mute"

For as angry as he was, his attention was drawn away from his traveling companion when from behind him he heard weeping. Exhaling heavily, his shoulders drooped when he spied his daughter returning, no coat, in her waitress uniform. His deepest desire was to wrap her in his arms and tell that everything would be alright, but he knew it would be futile. Instead he stood and watched as his daughter knocked on the door that she should be free to enter at will.

Roger watched as Ross opened the door. He watched intently as the look on his son in laws face changed from relaxed to angry in the span of a moment.

"What do you want Blake? You don't have visitation until after New Years."

Blake wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to stave off the cold that she was feeling through her thin cotton uniform. Tears fell to her cheeks, and her words were clipped.

"I know, but I needed to see her. Ross, please, it's Christmas Eve. I lost my job, I have lost my parents, I…" She choked back a sob "lost you. Please, let me spend some time with my daughter."

Ross rolled his eyes and his head before throwing his hands up in the air.

"Fine, but keep it short, I was getting her ready for bed" He said before allowing Blake entry into the home they once shared.

Blake wiped her tears and walked straight to the playpen in the middle of the room. She bent over and reached in to pick up her daughter.

"Hello my sweet heart. You have no idea how much Mommy needed this tonight." Slowly she backed herself into a chair and brought the infant to her shoulder, gently rubbing her back as she watched Ross from the corner of her eye.

"What's happened now Blake? What monumental deception caused you to lose yet another job? How many is this now, Blake? I'm talking from all the way back when I first met you. I wish I had married your mother, my life would have been so much simpler."

Blake hugged her daughter closer to her. She gently kissed her temple.

"I'm sorry Ross." Blake whispered. "I am so sorry for everything."

Ross sighed, then threw a cloth diaper over his shoulder. "She's going to need a bottle before she's ready for bed. I'm going to go get it. Don't move from that spot" He commanded.

Blake nodded. Roger could see her swallowing. He went to her, and kneeled, knowing that she couldn't see him but hoped that she could feel him near her. "Oh Chrissy, what happened to you?" He asked, almost teary eyed himself. "I am so sorry that I caused this. Please forgive me. Please forgive your mother." He begged, but she continued to stare at the opposite wall as she gently rubbed the back of the infant she was cuddling.

When Ross appeared, Roger jumped up, it was ridiculous, but he felt like he had been caught stealing a cookie from a cookie jar.

Blake stood, cradling the baby in her arms. She looked longingly at Ross. "I guess I should get going."

Ross pressed his lips together, forming a tight thin line. "Would you like to feed her and put her to bed?"

"More than anything." Blake smiled.

Ross handed her the bottle, and sat on the couch. He leaned heavily into it as he watched Blake mother their child.

"That's a lovely tree," Blake indicated with her chin.

"Thanks. I was smart and bought one before Christmas Eve this year." Ross said.

"Charlie. I remember." Blake said absently. "We never did decorate him." She sighed.

"No, your father was killed in that accident, and then we found your mother the next day. We didn't feel much like celebrating." He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "I only got a tree this year since it's her first Christmas. I wanted it to be memorable."

Blake gazed into her daughter's eyes. "She won't remember it, Ross"

"No, she won't, but I will and I wanted to start making memories with her that are ones I can line the mantel with, not the refuse can."

"We had some pretty memorable times together, Ross," Blake reminded him.

"Until you almost killed our daughter you mean."

Blake visibly winced, and Roger paid closer attention.

"No, Blake, an accident is when something happens that is out of your control. Your behavior however was a choice you made. Going to a bar knowing you were pregnant, what were you thinking? That guy could have killed you, both of you." Ross shook his head violently. "It's time for her to go to bed."

Ross stood quickly and put his hands out.

"She's not done with her bottle, and she still needs to be burped." Blake protested.

"I will take care of that upstairs. It's time for you to go."

Blake pulled the nipple from the girl's mouth and was met with immediate protest.

"Shh" Blake whispered. "It's ok, Daddy will finish. Momma loves you. I know Santa is going to spoil you rotten" She added when she handed the infant over.

Ross took the baby and her bottle into his arms. "Blake, your next visitation isn't until after New Years. Please don't show up here again."

Once again, tears flooded Blake's eyes, but she nodded her head in agreement.

Roger watched in silent horror as Blake, still without a coat, walked out of the house and back into the snow.

"What, no, Blake, get back here and fight this out with him!" he yelled behind her, only the door closed instead.

Behind him, Bert cleared her throat.

"Come Roger, it's time to go."

"But, what happens next?" He asked, knowing he wouldn't get an answer.

He felt a hand on his shoulder which slumped. He reached out his hand, turning as he did only now he wasn't in the Marler living room any longer. His eyes burned, he blinked against the feeling. When he opened them he knew exactly where he was. He put a hand on his chest, feeling pain as he did. When he attempted to take a deep breath he was met with pain and resistance. He was back in his car. The smell of acrid smoke enveloped him. He tried to move his legs but discovered that he was unable. With his left hand he reached out and grabbed the steering wheel, gripping it tightly. He pulled himself forward, in great pain as he did and reached his right hand to the seat beside him. His fingers groped for his cellular phone, but were met with the feeling of only the leather upholstery.

In the distance, he thought he heard sirens, but he couldn't be sure because it was then that his world went black again.