What is your problem?" Rachel asked, a little more harshly than she probably should have, but she was frustrated. It was eight o'clock in the morning, and she had gone into a closed "Savory" to work out a new menu, but four week old Evita Caroline had been screaming, not crying, but screaming for the better part of an hour, and Rachel had yet to get any actual work done. She tried nursing her again, but Evita didn't seem to be hungry, she tried burping her but that didn't help either, and a quick check of her diaper proved that everything was okay in that department too. No matter what she did, Evita continued to scream, and Rachel was about to pull her hair out.

"Look, you're clean, you're dry, you've got a full tummy, you're being held, and even though you may not be particularly liked at the moment, you're definitely loved. So please be quiet, mommy is not getting any work done with you screaming in her ear!" Talking to her definitely wasn't working, so Rachel thought singing might help."What is this feeling?" She started, singing the first song that came to mind as she stood up and gently bounced the baby as she walked around the room. "So sudden and new. I felt the moment I laid eyes on you. My pulse is rushing. My head is reeling. My face is flushing. What is this feeling? Fervid as a flame, does it have a name? Yes! Loathing, unadulterated loathing for your face, your voice..." Suddenly she realized what she was saying and stopped. Even though she definitely didn't loathe her baby, and she was only singing this song because she loved Wicked and couldn't think of anything else at the moment. She was pretty sure singing that song to a newborn made her shoo-in for the "Worst Mom of the Year" Award, but being four weeks old, Evita didn't understand the words her mother was singing, just like she didn't understand her pleas to stop crying, and it did nothing. Evita didn't stop crying, she didn't cry harder either, but that's probably because it wasn't possible for her to cry any harder.

"Maybe we need some fresh air?" She suggested as she grabbed her phone and carefully made her way to the front steps of the restaurant.

"Oh, hi," Rachel said as she stepped outside and realized that she wasn't alone. Across the street, on the steps of a vacant building was the woman with dark roots and a faded coat who she had seen in the coffee shop, and many times at the park.

Realizing she had been caught, the woman jumped to her feet and quickly started walking toward the park. "Hey," Rachel yelled, chasing after her. She was curious mostly, she didn't feel threatened by the woman. She looked sad, broken, but not dangerous. She usually had good instincts, and hoped she was right about this, as she followed the stranger who'd been following her for months. "Wait," she called, as both women picked up their pace. Rachel was closing in on her despite the fact that she was wearing slippers and carrying a cranky baby. "Please stop," she pleaded, and that did the trick because the woman froze in her tracks.

"What were you doing there?" She asked as she caught up to the woman. The blonde slowly turned around, and Rachel could see that despite her dull skin, the bags under her eyes, the sad expression on her face, and the awful roots that she was beautiful, and she looked strangely familiar.

"I'm sorry," the woman mumbled, looking mortified and incredibly sad. "I'm so sorry."

"What were you doing in front of the restaurant?" Rachel asked again. "Are you hungry?"

"No. No, I don't think so," The blonde answered after thinking about it for a few seconds.

"Then why…?," Rachel started again cautiously, noticing that the woman looked like she might take off running again at any second.

"I heard your baby crying," she said, as she reached out to touch the now quiet and curious baby's foot."She's so beautiful."

For some reason unknown to her, Rachel didn't back away or freak out at this stranger touching her baby. It all seemed harmless, and Rachel hoped that it was, and not that her judgment had been clouded by lack of sleep.

"Thanks. Her name is Evita, I'm Rachel," she said cautiously.

"My name's Quinn."

As soon as Quinn introduced herself, Rachel realized who she was, and why she looked so familiar. Quinn Fabray was her name, and her married name was Quinn Evans. She had been in several made-for-t.v. movies that Rachel had seen over last few months as she stayed up with heartburn, or pregnancy related insomnia, or a fussy baby.

"Here," Quinn said, pulling an un-opened pacifier out of what Rachel realized was a diaper bag, and handing it to her. So this is where all the baby gifts had been coming from, Rachel thought, remembering the spoon, and the Gripe Water, the pink onesie, and the lamb blanket.

"Please take it," Quinn insisted, placing it in Rachel's hand. "I don't need it. I'm sorry I scared you. I'm sorry I have been everywhere. I'm sorry I was outside your restaurant. I've seen you at the park and you just looked so happy, and I wanted to you to have this stuff. This morning I was taking a walk, and I heard your baby crying, and I stopped. I don't even know why," she explained sadly.

"Are you thirsty? I could make you some coffee or tea or even water. When I was little and I was sad, my dads used to bring me a glass of water. I got to the point where I didn't know if I was sad or thirsty, so now water always seems to help," Rachel explained.

"I guess I am thirsty," Quinn shrugged.

"Come with me," Rachel said, taking Quinn by the hand and leading her back to the restaurant. Once inside, Evita started screaming again.

"It sounds like a gassy cry," Quinn offered.

"Well, I tried burping her, but I'll try it again," Rachel sighed, placing the baby on her shoulder and tapped her gently.

"I don't mean to sound like a know-it-all, but that's not going to work. You've got to hit her a little harder than that or you'll never get a burp. You won't hurt her, I promise," Quinn explained.

Rachel did as she was told, and Evita promptly burped, and expelled a large amount of spit-up on the massive burp rag Rachel had over her shoulder. Evita spit up frequently after most meals, and Rachel had learned to always carry lots of burp cloths with her. "I don't care what they call it," she said, turning to Quinn. "It's not spit up, it's barf and it's not cute. Being thrown up on just does something to a person!"

Quinn just laughed lightly, "now, that was a lot of spit-up, so she'll probably be hungry again."

Again, Rachel took the advice and brought Evita to her breast, where she latched on eagerly.

"How did you know?" She asked, looking up at the blonde.

"I had a baby in December," Quinn said sadly.

It was then that Rachel remembered. She had been sitting up one night, watching the news while waiting for Noah to come home when the report came on. "We are sad to report that Elizabeth Evans, the three month old daughter of actress Quinn Evans and Country singer Sam Evans died yesterday. Our prayers and condolences go out to them". Oh my God. They sat in silence for a few minutes until Evita was full, and Rachel burped her, firmly, just like Quinn had showed her, and laid her down in her carrier.

"I'm going to make breakfast," Rachel announced , picking the carrier up, and dragging a chair to the kitchen for Quinn. "Come with me."

"I grew up here," Quinn said as she watched Rachel carefully pour some batter into the waffle iron."I moved to Hollywood when I was eighteen to become an actress and I moved back after…"

"After," Rachel said quietly, knowing what Quinn was referring to.

"I wasn't even planning on coming back. My husband was wonderful, but one night I saw a baby and it was just too much. I left with just this bag. He doesn't even know where I am. Anyways, then I saw you in April, and I had all this baby stuff that I didn't need, so I thought you should have it. I watched you for a while, you and your friends. I don't know their names."

"Well, there's Brittany, she's the blonde. Her baby is Nathan, and she logs every feeding, dirty diaper, and how long he naps. She's very organized! Santana is the Latina. Her baby is Christoper, and I don't think she's ever put him down. She's very into attachment parenting. Her husband plays for The Browns, and they live in this huge, amazing mansion in Lima Heights."

"Isn't Lima Heights the ghetto?" Quinn asked, a puzzled expression on her face.

"You're thinking of Lima Heights Adjacent," she clarified. "Lima Heights is that fancy neighborhood on the hill that overlooks the city. Anyways, then there's Mercedes, she's the black one. She is a single wedding singer, who wanted a baby so she had one with her gay best friend, their baby is named Whitney Patricia, after their Idols Whitney Houston, and Patti Lupone."

"That's kind of awesome," Quinn smiled. "And Evita, did you name her after Eva Peron?"

"I did," Rachel blushed. "I'm obsessed with musicals, and I wanted to name her Elphaba because Wicked is my favorite, but my husband wouldn't go for it. But Evita is my second favorite, so he agreed to that one. Anyways, and then there's Tina, she's the Asian. She and her husband are even more nauseatingly in love than my husband and I are, and her baby's name is Lily."

"Must be nice, I never had any mom friends. All my friends were single and into partying, and once I got pregnant, we kind of drifted apart because we didn't have anything in common anymore," Quinn sighed.

"Yeah, we met in a prenatal yoga class. I probably would have never met them if it wasn't for that, we're all so different." Rachel explained. "But I'm glad I did. We've gotten really close, and none of my other friends have babies either."

"Anyways, I'm so sorry I watched you. I'm sorry I seemed to turn up everywhere you were. I'm not even sure why I did it, it just kind of happened. I guess I went crazy."

"I understand…." Rachel started. "No, actually I don't. I can't even imagine what you went through. I'm so sorry."

They looked at each other sadly for a few seconds before Rachel pulled the last waffle from the iron and sat down. "Breakfast is ready," she smiled.

As soon as Rachel sat down, Evita began to cry again. "I forgot coffee, can you hold her?" She asked Quinn without even thinking.

Quinn looked hesitant, her face becoming pale again, and Rachel was about to apologize and tell her she didn't have to when the blonde reached down, smiled at that baby and placed her on her shoulder. After settling her, she stood up, glided around the room, and began to sing in a voice that was slightly breathy, slightly nasally, but pleasant and sweet.

"Where it began
I can't begin to knowin'
But then I know it's growin' strong

Was in the spring
And spring became a summer
Who'd have believed you'd come along

Hands, touchin' hands
Reachin' out
Touchin' me
Touchin' you

Sweet Caroline
Good times never seemed so good
I've been inclined
To believe they never would
But now I

Look at the night
And it don't seem so lonely
We fill it up with only two
And when I hurt
Hurtin' runs off my shoulders
How can I hurt when holdin' you

Warm, touchin' warm
Reachin' out
Touchin' me
Touchin' you

Sweet Caroline
Good times never seemed so good
I've been inclined
To believe they never would
Oh,Lord, no

Sweet Caroline
Good times never seemed so good
Sweet Caroline
I believed they never could
Sweet Caroline"

Rachel held her breath, how could she have known? She hadn't revealed her daughter's full name to the woman, and as far as she could remember, she'd never used it in public. She mostly referred to her as "crabby pants", "fuss bucket," or some other equally endearing name relating to her favorite pastime. The sweet voice and gentle rocking soothed the baby, and she relaxed her head on the blonde's shoulder and promptly fell asleep.

Quinn put her back in her carrier and noticed the way Rachel was staring at her in awe.

"My dad used to sing that to me when I was young. He loved Neil Diamond," she shrugged.

"Thank you, I know that was hard for you. And thanks for introducing yourself. I'm so glad we finally met. I just want you to know that I'm here if you ever need anything. I know you're lonely, but you're not alone. I'm gonna hug you now," Rachel said, pulling the other woman into an embrace, careful not to break her. She looked so thin and fragile.

-Please Review! :)