A/N: I loved the response I got to the last chapter, thanks so much! I hope you all enjoy this one :). Reviews make my day!

"So, Lucy, how long are you here for?" Judy finally asked one morning at the kitchen table, nine weeks after Quinn had shown up at her house. Quinn didn't say anything for a few moments, instead pushing her shredded mini wheats around with her spoon as she felt her mother's eyes staring at her intently.

"What are your plans?" Judy persisted.

"I don't know." Quinn mumbled, not even bothering to look up from her cereal.

"What do you do all day?"

At that, Quinn looked at her mother, expecting to see a severely disapproving and disgusted expression on her face but instead saw curiosity and even concern.

"Sleep" she admitted, which she did a lot of. She wasn't about to admit that she was pretty much stalking an innocent pregnant woman. She never planned to do it, and she wasn't a threat to her or anyone, but she realized that was pretty much what she was doing. Still, she couldn't stop watching her, and had left a few more gifts for her besides the silver spoon. Last week, a fuzzy white baby bath towel with ears that resembled a little lamb, and before that, some un-opened Gripe Water. Not that that had worked for Quinn's baby. Little Beth had cried pretty much all the time but that didn't stop her from buying it when she saw it at the store and leaving it on the front steps of Savory one day. Hopefully it would work for someone else's baby. She's also been working on a letter to Sam. Every day she'd start over with a fresh piece of paper that said "Dear Sam". She'd sit there forever and the only other words she could ever come up with were "I"m sorry", so she'd get frustrated and toss it out.

"Why don't you tell me what's wrong?" Judy said, touching Quinn's arm. She never touched her, ever.

"Something happened" Quinn managed to say, but didn't think she could go any further, she was suddenly feeling sick.

"Yes, Lucy, I figured as much. Maybe it would help if you talked about it?" She said, still gently touching Quinn's arm, and still sounding concerned. Who was this woman and what had she done with Judy Frederick?

"I'm not ready, not yet." Quinn said fighting back the tears and the bile that were threatening to come up.

"Well then, whenever you're ready, I'll be here."

"Whatever, it's not like you really care" she said, giving up on trying to finish her cereal and taking her bowl to the sink.

"Oh Lucy, cut the crap, I'm your mother, of course I care!"

But Quinn wasn't exactly convinced. If Judy had stopped and hugged her, maybe gone just a little bit further than touching her arm and giving a concerned look, she might have told her. But she didn't. As soon as she was done saying how much she cared, she looked at her watch and mentioned matter-of-factly that she was going to be late for work, grabbed her keys and headed for the door. "Wear a coat if you actually leave the house today, it's unseasonably cold," she shouted, exiting the house.

Quinn sat down in the living room, her thoughts returning to the person she woke up thinking about today. For the first time in months, she woke up not thinking of Beth, but of her husband Sam. It still felt weird to think of Sam Evans as her husband, she'd known him less than two years.

They'd met at a bar that one of Quinn's friends had dragged her to, and Sam was the entertainment that night. He was a struggling country singer from Nashville who had come to Los Angeles to make it. Usually people came to Nashville from other places to make it in country music, but whatever. He was talented and despite the fact that his mouth to face ratio was like, way off, he still managed to be cute. Quinn had stood out to Sam too, from his vantage point on the stage, and when he was done he bought her a drink. They began seeing each-other that night and things were going great. Sam was genuine and kind which was hard to find in Hollywood, and treated her so well. Six months into the relationship, Quinn realized something was missing...her period.

A half hour and three pregnancy tests later, it was confirmed. Quinn was pregnant. When she finally worked up the courage to tell Sam, he wasted no time in proposing, slipping a twist-tie from a loaf of bread on her finger for the time being. A typical response to the man you love proposing would be "yes," but Quinn asked if he was sure. "You don't have to marry me just because you knocked me up, you know," she had said.

"I'm sure about you," he said offering a goofy grin. "I love you, you're the one for me, and this is just a good excuse to be your husband sooner."

Two weeks later, they flew to Vegas to get married. Quinn suggested it, since as far as he knew, she had no living family, and he was okay with it too. He didn't care about a big traditional wedding, he just wanted Quinn to be his wife, and he was traditional in one sense, he wanted his child to have two parents who were married before it arrived. Quinn spent the day finding a simple white dress, getting her hair and nails done, and Sam spent the day in the casino, only gambling small amounts though. They now had their baby's college fund to save for. Neither one of them had gone to college, but their child was going to! They met at a little white chapel at 6 o'clock that night and were married by an Elvis impersonator. It was a little cliché, but they were in Vegas after-all. Their surroundings might have been tacky, and so were the other couples around them, but Quinn looked gorgeous. She literally took his breath away when she showed up in her dress, and she'd never seen him look more handsome either. They'd chosen matching platinum bands, and they were happy. Quinn had always wanted a diamond, and Sam promised her that one day she would have a big one. But for now, this would do.

Quinn finally got up from the couch and actually showered, which didn't always happen every day anymore, but that was it. She didn't bother with her hair or make-up, just threw on the 12 year old coat her mother left for her and was on her way. She stopped by a pawn shop and sold her wedding band, adding to the nest-egg she had brought with her from Los Angeles and headed to the park with a newspaper. The pregnant woman she had been watching wouldn't be there yet, she usually went for her strolls in the mid afternoon, but this time she had a different plan. After about 15 minutes of looking, she found what she was looking for, the perfect apartment. Far enough from her mom, closer to the park, and the rent was doable. She called the number on the ad and agreed to meet the landlord there in an hour, and headed on her way. She knew it wouldn't take an hour to get there but didn't want to take any chances, and what else was she going to do?

She drove through downtown, noticing an Internet cafe on Main Street and decided to stop in. She did have an hour, after-all. She logged in to her email account for the first time in months and had over 700 new emails. Most of them were spam, offering to increase the size of her penis, or help her shed 20 pounds in 20 days...she knew how to do that, lose a child and become so consumed with grief that you're unable to eat. There were also 67 new messages from Sam, one for each day she'd been gone. She quickly deleted all of them without reading, except for the most recent one. It was a very kind email, she wouldn't have expected anything less from Sam. He didn't try to find out where she was, he just wanted to know that she was safe, and that she knew he was thinking about her all the time, and that he didn't blame her for what happened. He even ended the email with an "I love you". On a whim, Quinn hit "reply". She sent a message that said "I'm safe" and that was it. She logged off the computer and headed to the apartment.

It was old, but it had lots of charm and a nice view of the park, and it would do. She went to the big window and looked down at the sidewalk below. She saw a cute Asian couple stop right on the spot, the woman grabbed the man's hand and placed it on her very pregnant belly. Even from eight floors up, she could see that they were deliriously happy and she felt sick again. That was her and Sam just a few months ago. She grabbed the window frame for support and the landlord came up behind her, noticing that something was wrong. He told her she should sit down but she assured him that she was fine, that heights just made her a little nervous. The apartment was empty anyway, the only place to sit was the floor, and she'd gotten so weak from depression, lack of food, and lack of exercise that she knew getting off the floor would be a problem.

"What do you think?" the landlord asked.

"It's nice, I'll take it." She replied. She filled out some paperwork, with her real name, he ran a quick credit check, and said that the apartment was hers. He explained that he needed a security deposit and the first month's rent, and she reached in the diaper bag, pulled out a huge wad of cash, and started counting.

"You don't have a check?" he asked with raised eyebrows.

"No, I was hoping to pay in cash. Don't worry, I'm not a prostitute or anything," she said with a nervous laugh.

"It's fine," he assured, "let me just write out a receipt."

He did, and handed over the keys. Quinn removed her coat, laid down on the empty floor, and closed her eyes. She hadn't had her morning nap yet, and she was exhausted. Soon she fell asleep, and she had the same dream she'd had every time she closed her eyes since it happened. She'd wake up in bed to the sound of a baby crying, make her way down the impossibly long hallway, and half-way down, the sound of the crying would change. It started to sound more and more like a cat meowing until that's exactly what it became. She'd push on to the nursery and get to the crib where she would indeed find a cat. She'd reach out to it and the cat would hiss, and then Quinn would wake up drenched in sweat.