Okay, this is my longest chapter so far, and it's got a LOT of really important things in it, so I hope you enjoy. I really like this one, too. I hope you all like it as well, and it was worth the wait. Another chapter of "I Never Promised You A Rose Garden" will be up soon. Enjoy!

Time had begun to pass quickly, and suddenly, weeks had gone by. It had sent them into the dead of winter; late December, and snow had begun to coat the ground ritualistically. It seemed that every morning when Amber woke, there was at least another foot of the white powder covering any tracks that had been made the previous day. It was a small comfort for her; it seemed to say that each day was new, and that the mistakes, the actions of the previous day no longer held any meaning. She liked that.

Amber had never been particularly fond of Christmastime. Growing up, it had been nothing special. Her mother had never allowed her to make gingerbread cookies and decorate them intricately with frosting. She had never baked pies that made the house smell like apples and cinnamon, had never listened to Christmas carols around a crackling fire in the fireplace. Of course, there was always a Christmas tree, and presents, if only because she had liked to put the fancy tree in the front window, so that passers-by could stare in envy, and gifts that Amber could wear to school when the break was over, to make her classmates jealous. Even at Christmas, there was no altruism, no goodwill in Velma's heart. It was all to show others what she could afford, and what they couldn't.

Amber had been working for almost a month, and though the days were long and left her feet aching and her back hurting, an unusual feeling often encompassed her as she headed home; the sense of accomplishment. The feeling of knowing that the money in her pocket was hers, and that she had earned it herself. She had learned to swallow her pride quickly, because there was no room for it when she was attempting to save as much money as she could so that one day, she would be able to stand on her own two feet, and move out of Corny's house. It was a distant dream, she knew, because she made less than a dollar per hour, and most of her customers were either cheap or saving their money for their own holiday shopping. Still, Amber took every penny she could get, and smiled gratefully for it.

"So…" Corny spoke, as they stood in front of a towering evergreen that was frosted with snow, "what exactly are we looking for in a tree?"

Amber rocked back on her heels, glancing up at the tree.

"Corny, I don't even think we could get this through the front door," she felt herself smiling slightly at him, even though the bitter cold left her nose, lips, and ears frozen. She let her hands slip upward, pulling her scarf closer around her neck, hunching her shoulders. "What are we even doing here?"

He took a few steps away from her and she hurried to keep up with him. He came to stand in front of another tree, pushing his hands into his pockets and glaring up at it.

"You know we can't celebrate Christmas without a tree," he explained, sighing exasperatedly at her, and then grinning before nodding to the tree he stood before, "what about this one?"

She blinked up at it, and then shrugged.

"It's fine."

He grumbled slightly, beginning to move again, and she dipped her head against the chilly wind, following behind him closely.

"Why do you hate Christmas?" He looked at her suddenly. His question was so blunt, so completely unexpected that it made him sound like a spoiled child, and she sputtered suddenly.

"I don't hate Christmas."

"Well, you don't like it." He was still watching her, and she felt defensive suddenly.

"I just-" she sighed softly, "Corny, you just don't understand what it was like having Velma as a mother at Christmas. She just…killed the spirit of the season." She studied him for a moment, "She could make a snowman melt just by looking at him."

"I get that, Amber," he took a step closer to her, his eyes studying her face, "but the thing is, you're not with Velma this year; you're with me." His eyes seemed to be pouting. "I want to make this a good year for us," he nodded, and then looked as if he might say something else, before biting on his lip and turning his eyes back to the tree. "So, do you like this one?"

She suddenly felt infinitely guilty, and studied his face for a moment before nodding.

"It's lovely."

Amber could do little more than stand back and watch as Corny beckoned to the man who was selling the trees, and pulled out his wallet. By the time they had gotten the tree tied to the roof of the car, Amber was shivering in the frosty evening air.

"So," he moved closer to her suddenly, and lowered his voice, "Did Velma completely turn you off from hot chocolate, too? Because there's this place I know about that serves the best in town."

It was the first real time she and Corny had been out of the house together, basically since she had moved in with him. There was something odd about being in public, even now, with him. She had grown accustomed to the fact that everyone knew she was living with him; someone had started a rumor in school and word had spread quickly. Still, being seen with him in public was something extremely different.

And yet, she couldn't pretend to care about that. When she looked at him, she found comfort, and acceptance. That was something no one else had ever given to her. She couldn't deny the fact that he was her savior, and didn't think she should have to hide that fact from anyone.

They found themselves at a small café about a half hour later, seated at a small table located on the sidewalk, just out of the path of traffic. Though Amber was still cold and a light snow was beginning to descend, the hot drink warmed her throat and Corny's smile kept her face a warm shade of pink. She studied his eyes as he spoke, the corners of her lips turning into a soft smile.

"I can't imagine the infamous Velma Von Tussle wasting her time on something as trivial as a Christmas tree," he responded, when Amber had commented on the tree he'd picked out not so long ago.

"Well, it was an aluminum tree," she swallowed, her brain reeling at the thought of all of the Christmases she'd suffered through because she'd had no other choice, "It was hideous. She would hire a decorator to come in and dress it up." She glanced down at the table, "I hated that damn thing."

"Ah, aluminum." Corny sat back, watching her, "I should have guessed; more artificialness."

She peered at him from the other side of the table. She brushed a gloved hand over her bare forehead suddenly, and she saw Corny's eyes move to that scar on her forehead. She hadn't even attempted to cover it up since the day he'd told her not to.

"Of course," she replied, swallowing hard. She glanced at the watch on her wrist, noting the time. The hands were stuck on 4:42. It was past nine o'clock at night. "Shit." She tapped the face with her fingernail, "Stupid watch. Now I won't know when I'm running late to work." She glanced back up at him, "It's a good thing I've memorized exactly how long it takes to catch the bus there." She smiled softly at him, and noticed that he was no longer watching her.

Something in Corny's face made her stop speaking suddenly, and she felt a sudden coldness race through her veins. His eyes were focused on something behind her, and before she even began to ask what it was, she turned her body, her eyes falling over him at once.

"Oh, God," she whimpered softly when she saw Chip. He was a few yards away, and in a crowd of others. She wasn't completely sure if he had seen her, but she shrunk into herself, turning herself around in the chair. "Let's go home," her words were barely a whisper, "Please, please, Corny, let's go home right now."

She started to move, because she fully expected him to agree, and to sweep her under his arm and across the street until they were safely in the car. She turned to look at him just as he spoke.

"No." His voice was firm, and she looked at him, her eyes wide.

"Corny," she began to plead, and he glared at her.

"Amber, you are not going to spend the rest of your life running from him. He is not worth it." His eyes were dark suddenly, and Amber knew that Chip had spotted them. She felt her throat beginning to close up, and Corny stood up, crossing over to her as she felt Chip stopping beside them.

"Well," she heard his gruff voice for the first time in what felt like eternities, "Lookie here, we found us a little bitch." His eyes were cold, and focused on Amber. Her head was down, her eyes closed, and she listened to the voices as they spoke.

"Don't talk to her like that," Corny's voice was loud now.

"Who the hell are you?" Chip turned his attention to Corny, and Amber raised her eyes to watch Corny. Obviously, he didn't remember him from their brief confrontation on the front porch that evening.

"I'm going to be your worst fucking nightmare if you lay a hand on her ever again," his voice was low, and even, and it sent chills up Amber's spine. Chip watched him for a moment with his dark, beady eyes, and then smirked.

"I'm shaking in my boots." He shifted to glance back at Amber. "You know, I'm surprised. You're not a bad looking guy; I thought you'd be able to afford better than this cheap hooker."

"Shut the hell up," Corny was in his face just as Amber's mouth dropped slightly, her cheeks flushing, and not from the cold this time. "Are you proud of yourself because you could take advantage of a seventeen-year-old girl? Does it make you feel good that you can make her feel so bad about herself?" Corny's voice was rising now, and Amber's eyes were locked on him. "You are a spineless, pathetic, animal."

Chip's eyes narrowed, and he pushed himself closer to Corny.

"You shouldn't talk to a man like that, son," he growled, and Corny stared at him, unblinking.

"I'm not talking to a man; I'm talking to a coward." Corny said the words, and it only took a moment for Chip to draw back, his fist landing squarely on Corny's jaw. Amber screamed as Corny fell to the ground, jumping up and knocking her chair against the ground. It only took seconds for Corny to get to his feet, and not even that long for Amber to see the blood trailing from Corny's nose, the cheek that she could see was bright red and already beginning to swell. Corny moved quickly, punching Chip just as quickly as he had been hit, sending him stumbling through the crowd.

"Corny!" Amber screamed his name, rushing over to him, tugging on his arm, "Stop!" He didn't realize how strong Chip was; didn't realize that he could find their house easily, and would have no qualms about waiting for him as he left for work one morning. She felt the tears on her face and found her strength, pulling him away from the situation, her feet moving quickly as she dragged him down the sidewalk. He began to stumble slightly, and she glanced hurriedly at him. She could see Chip watching them from the corner of her eye, and turned dragged Corny until they had turned a corner, glaring at him angrily.

"What in the hell is wrong with you?" She screamed the words at him, "He could have had you arrested! He is a piece of fucking garbage! He is not worth it, Corny!"

"No, he's not!" His voice was loud suddenly, and he glared at her, "But you are, Amber!"

She fell behind suddenly, and let her feet drag her back to the car, suddenly feeling immensely guilty. She was silent the entire ride home, and though his face was bloody and already beginning to swell, he insisted on dragging the Christmas tree upstairs before abandoning it in a corner of the living room. He moved into the kitchen suddenly, pulling a frozen steak from the Frigidaire and holding it against his face before collapsing on the couch. Amber returned from the bathroom with a moist washcloth, offering it to him to swab his bloody nose. He threw her a soft smile and she rested against the couch, unable to look directly at him.

"You shouldn't have done that," she said when she finally found her voice, "He's really dangerous, Corny."

"Hey," he prompted her to look at him after a short silence, "I have one hell of a left hook, you have to admit it."

She felt herself smiling weakly at him, against her will, and shook her head, her eyes falling upon the forgotten tree in the corner.

"Uh," he groaned softly, wincing as he moved the rag on his face, "Sorry about that. Some Christmas Eve, huh?"

She watched him sadly for a moment, and then tilted her head before climbing off the couch.

"I got a present for you, I'll be right back." She disappeared for a moment and then returned, offering him a small box. He pulled the cloth from his face, and looked at her.

"You shouldn't have done that, Amber," he warned her softly, and she shook her head.

"It's nothing big; I didn't have much time to save money. It's just…a little thing. I just wanted to say thank you."

He tore the paper from the box and opened it, grinning slightly as he peered inside. His fingers worked into the box and he pulled the tie out, admiring it.

"A purple tie," he smiled up at her, "to match my purple suit?"

She nodded, smiling, and he chuckled softly.

"It's…perfect," he nodded up at her, "Thank you." He hesitated for a moment, then raised it to his face, "I think it matches my bruises, as well."

She offered him a smile, and then swallowed hard as he shifted.

"I bought you something, too." He stood for a moment, walked out of the room and returned with a small box wrapped in dark red paper. He moved back onto the couch and handed it to her. She took it into her hands, her eyebrows furrowing as he looked at her.

"Corny…" she hesitated, her fingers resting on the paper, "You really didn't have to get me anything."

He groaned, shifting and moving the frozen steak back to his swollen cheek.

"Amber, stop practicing your humility and open the damn box." He grinned slightly at her, then winced. She smirked up at him, letting her fingers slide into the crease and carefully rip the paper off. She pulled the box open, her eyes falling upon a set of keys.

"Keys? Corny, you already gave me this for my birthday," she teased him, looking up at him, "Keys to what?"

"To your car," he said the words softly, and her eyes met his face, locking onto him.

"What?" She glared at him, "What are you-"

"I bought it from a friend of mine," he admitted quietly, "it's older, and it's probably not the kind you would have bought, but…" he hesitated, "It will get you to work and back, and you won't have to take the bus anymore." He was quiet for a moment, "I don't like you walking in the dark, either."

He let his eyes meet her face, and she sat silently watching him. She bit down on her lip, tears of appreciation welling in her eyes, and looked up at him.

"I can't-" she stammered for a moment, her eyes studying the copper keys, "I can't repay you for this, Corny. I just don't have the money right now."

"I never asked you to repay me," came his solid response, and she felt her lips twitching as the tears burned her eyes, urging her to cry. He smirked at her. "Now it looks like I'm going to have to get you a watch, too."

"Thank you," the words were a near whisper, and she nodded, moving closer to him. "Really, thank you."

She let her hand touch the cheek that wasn't bruised, and moved toward him slowly, her lips brushing lightly against the smooth skin. She sat back, studying him with large eyes.

"You're welcome," he blushed slightly, turning his head to look at her, "You know-I would give you a lot more, if I could, Amber."

She furrowed her eyebrows at him.

"Corny," she scoffed, "you've given me a safe place to live, you've been an amazing friend…the best friend I've ever had," she admitted softly, "And now…" she gestured to the keys in her hand, "A car." She shook her head at him, smiling gently. "Corny," she slipped her hand into one of his, "You've given me more of a life than my own mother ever did. You've given me everything I have ever wanted in my life. There is nothing left for you to give me."

He smiled gently at her, nodding lightly. He could think of a few things that she was still missing; her spirit, her happiness, the simple joy of being young. And though he couldn't wrap them up in a box and present them to her, he vowed to give her the closest thing he could to what she had lost all those months ago.

It was his way of attempting to make her whole again.