Quinn Fabray groaned at the light shining through the blinds in her bedroom and tried to blink the sleep out of her eyes. She turned over to her side and frowned when she realized that she was alone, because from what she can remember, there had been someone with her last night. Judging by the pounding in her head, she can tell that she had been drinking and has vague memories of the dark haired man that came home with her last night. He was familiar somehow; he reminded her of someone from her past.

Quinn turns towards her clock and realizes that Santana and Brittany are supposed to show up in a couple hours and she doesn't have any food in her house. She usually eats take out most nights, and there isn't any need for her to have food in her Manhattan apartment. Quinn winces when she sits up, feeling all of the blood rush to her head. It feels like someone is pounding away at her head with a jackhammer and Quinn makes a beeline to the Tylenol that she keeps handy in the kitchen cabinet for occasions like this.

After taking the pills and turning to start her morning routine by making a pot of coffee she's surprised to find a fresh cup waiting for her in one of her favorite mugs, along with a note from the mystery person.

Didn't mean to ditch you, but I had to head to work. Hope that the coffee makes up for it. I had fun last night.

The note doesn't have a name anywhere on it, but there's a number at the bottom. Quinn stares at the note for a second, her brow furrowing. She wonders if she should call him, but doubts that it would be a good idea. She isn't really into dating; she has a great career and great friends. Quinn worked as a journalist for the New York Times after graduating from Yale, and had moved to Manhattan. Santana and Brittany lived in Brooklyn, and were coming into Manhattan to have a girl's weekend together.

Quinn can't remember much about the guy from last night, just that he was sexy and good in bed. Quinn decides that she's not going to think about this right now, and throws the note back down on the counter. She grabs the cup of coffee and takes a sip, noticing that there is a dash of sugar and splash of cream, just the way that she likes it. She tries not to think so much about the way that her coffee was prepared, because she knows that it could have just been a coincidence, though something still nags at her in the back of her mind.

Quinn doesn't dress up much, because she and the girls are supposed to hang out at the spa all day. She starts heading down to the subway station to greet her friends, feeling the crisp air of autumn hit her as soon as she steps out of the door. She decides that she will walk to the grocery store around the corner and catch a cab to the station when she's finished.

Quinn doesn't go crazy in the store and only buys things for breakfast and dinner for the next two days, figuring that lunch will probably be eaten somewhere else. She's pondering about what she'll make for dinner that night when she bumps into a tattered looking man. Quinn is quick to apologize, but the man only stares at her. "Do you hear the drums?" He asks her in a scratchy voice, and Quinn blinks at him, not knowing what to say. No matter how many years she spends living in the city, she'll never get used to some of the people.

"Charlie, get the hell away from here! Go bother someone else with your bull." Quinn turns to see a young girl sitting on the ground, her eyes narrowed at the man, who shouts a few profanities before slinking away, figuring that Quinn must not be worth it if there was this much trouble with her. Quinn frowns at the young girl, not noticing the man as he walks away. The girl has on jeans that looked to be falling off of her small frame, and they were covered in dirt with a few tears in them. She had a darkly colored sweat shirt on, which also seemed to be hanging off of her body. She didn't wear any shoes, just dirty white socks with an assortment of differently sized holes. Quinn couldn't tell what color the girl's hair was, but it looked dark and hung down to her waist, though it seemed tangled.

"Don't mind him."

Quinn was snapped out of her trance by the girl speaking and looked back up at her eyes, which were a a pretty hazel color. It was a long shot, because thousands of little girls had green eyes, but Quinn couldn't help herself from thinking about her Perfect Thing. The Perfect Thing that Shelby had adopted almost fifteen years ago.

"Excuse me?" Quinn asked, beginning to feel flustered. The grocery bags weighed down in her hands, though she didn't want to put them down anywhere, out of fear that someone might take them. The girl frowned when she saw the expression on Quinn's face, but scoffed after a moment. "Charlie's always trying to find someone to scam. He starts talking crazy crap and while someone's confused he'll swipe their cash." The girl explained, looking disgusted with the man's work.

Almost as if she knew that she could do better, Quinn realized.

Quinn isn't sure how to respond, so she changes the subject quickly. "Are you alright?" She asks, eyeing the gigantic hole in one of the girl's socks where her toe sticks out. The girl doesn't hesitate to nod, but doesn't meet Quinn's eyes. Quinn isn't sure how to proceed, but her body takes a step closer without her mind realizing. "You're going to freeze." She pointed out. It was November, and Quinn had on a cozy North Face jacket on to keep herself warm. She didn't want to think about what the chilly atmosphere would be like without the jacket on.

The girl paused, before shaking her head. "I'm fine." She insisted, and Quinn took another step forward, not knowing why she felt so drawn to the girl. "Your lips are blue." Quinn pushed, but the girl only scoffed once more. "Trust me lady; I've dealt with much worse."

Quinn quirks an eyebrow and looks down at the groceries in her hand. "Are you hungry?" She asked, not expecting a straightforward answer. The girl's eyes are set on the bag of groceries, but she shakes her head anyway. Quinn obviously doesn't believe her, just looking at the way that her clothes are falling off of her body. "When was the last time that you ate?" She inquired, and the girl shrugged. "Not sure." She mumbled, though Quinn was close enough to hear.

Quinn glances down at the groceries in her hands, and knows that she's making a mistake, but the words fly out of her mouth before she can stop them. "Come with me; I'll make you something." Quinn offered, and the girl's head shot up to stare at her with wide eyes. "I don't swing like that." The girl is quick to say, but Quinn shakes her head. "No, really. I won't do anything, just make you something. I promise."

Are you serious?" The girl asks incredulously. Quinn nods slowly, not sure if she was serious or not. Britt and Santana were supposed to be coming in… but maybe they could get their own cab to Quinn's apartment and meet her there instead. Quinn hopes that the girl will be gone by then, once she has some food in her and taken a shower or something. Deep down, she knows that she's not going to send the girl back on the street, and Quinn's hoping that the girl is just a runaway of some sort, even though she knows that probably isn't the case.

The girl's stomach rumbled loudly, and Quinn smiled softly. "Sounds like you're pretty hungry." She said, trying to make her voice soft. The girl stares at her for a moment before shaking her head. "No, it's fine. You don't have to because you feel sorry for me or some shit."

Quinn's eyebrows pull in together and she finds herself speaking on autopilot once more. "It's not that- you remind me of my daughter." She spews out, and groans internally once she's said it. The girl looks sorry for Quinn for a moment, before wiping the look off of her place. "You don't have to." The girl repeats again, though Quinn knows that she has won. "Come on. You don't have to stay, and I'll make you something quick." Quinn promises, and the girl ponders over this before pulling herself onto her feet and following Quinn towards a taxi.

"Sorry," The girl apologizes once more, and Quinn shakes her head, still in awe. She has never known anyone that could eat four bowls of spaghetti and still have room for dessert expect for Finn Hudson, but even he didn't eat as fast as this girl did. "Don't be," Quinn smiles before setting down another slice of the chocolate cake in front of the girl, whose eyes widened with excitement. Quinn reminded herself that she would have to buy another cake for Britt and Santana, who agreed to arrive at Quinn's apartment a little later. The couple reassured their friend that they would spend time reminiscing in Times Square after Quinn told them that she was busy with work related topics, but Quinn can tell that Santana doesn't actually believe her lame excuse.

"Ugh, I can't remember a time that I was this full," The girl sighed, leaning back into her seat. Quinn smiled tightly. She was probably only fifteen or sixteen, and Quinn couldn't help but feel bad for her. The shower that the girl had taken not too long ago washed away all of the dirt and grime from her body to reveal wavy blonde hair and cream colored skin. Quinn wasn't sure if she should say anything about the bruises that she knew the girl was trying to cover up; some of them were dark and looked new while some were yellowish colored and seemed to be fading away.

"Well, I'm glad." Quinn said, watching as the girl finishes the cake in thirty seconds- or less. There had to be some sort of record for that, one that the girl had just broken. When the girl finishes her eyes begin to roam around Quinn's apartment, pausing at every framed article that is up on the wall. "So you write for the Times?" The girl clears her throat and turns back to Quinn, trying to strike up conversation. Quinn leans against the counter and nodded. "I fell in love with it after college." She explained.

The girl nodded, and continued to look around, her green eyes pausing occasionally on pictures of the Glee club and Quinn's graduation from Yale. The girl stops when she reaches the framed picture of Beth from when she was two years old. Her eyes widen and her face looks a little paler, though that could be blamed on all of the food that she has just eaten. Her eyes stay locked on the picture, and Quinn's eyebrows furrow. "Is everything alright?" She asks, following the girl's eyes over to the picture. "I-is that your daughter?" The girl asks tentatively, not looking away from the picture. Quinn is confused; why would the girl care so much about Beth? Quinn hasn't even seen her daughter since high school, because every time that she tried to reach out to Shelby, she didn't receive answers.

"Yeah, it is." Quinn probably should've left it at that, but she isn't good at taking advice from herself so she adds, "I had her while I was in high school, and gave her up for adoption."

The girl's eyes stay wide, and she whirls back around to face Quinn. "Is that okay?" Quinn asks tentatively, unsure of why that detail would be so important to this girl that she doesn't know. The girl nods slowly as if coming out of a trace. "Yeah, yeah…it's really none of business anyway." She murmurs to herself. "No, it's alright. You kind of look like her." Quinn smiles fondly as she walks over to the picture and pulls it off of the hook.

"She's cute." The girl states blankly before taking a large gulp of water. Quinn nods as she places the picture on the coffee table. "Yeah, she is. Or was, I guess. I haven't seen her since this picture was taken."

Quinn realizes that for the past couple of hours she has been referring to the girl as "the girl" in her mind. "What's your name?" She asks, and the girl looks uncomfortable. Her knee begins to bounce up and down and her eyes dart around the room. Quinn doesn't understand why the girl would be uncomfortable with giving Quinn her name, but she came up to her apartment and ate a grocery store worth of food without much trouble. She tells herself not to judge, because she doesn't know what the girl has been through, but it still seems to odd.

"Beth." The girl mumbles after a few silent moments, playing with her fingers. "My name is Beth."

Holy shit. Beth was almost ninety percent sure that the blonde haired woman who took her up to her apartment and let her take a shower was her biological mother. But if she was, Beth would have thought that Quinn would recognize her. Quinn; that was what Beth thought her name was, though she couldn't be perfectly sure. Beth was sure that the picture on the wall was her when she was two, which would mean that Quinn hasn't seen her daughter for almost thirteen years. That was a pretty long time.

Quinn thought that Beth was asleep on the couch, even though Beth could hear Quinn whispering about her with the two women that had arrived earlier. Beth couldn't help but feel bad, wondering if she had ruined their plans or something. She lets her head fall back down on the couch and closes her eyes, listening to the sounds of the women fighting back and forth.

"Are you serious right now?" Santana hisses incredulously. "Quinn, just because she has the same name and kind of looks like her doesn't mean-"

"She looks just like the picture! And you weren't here to see the way that she stared at it-" Quinn fired back.

"So she was staring at a picture and now all of a sudden she's your daughter? Quinn, you gave her up! Even if she is Beth, she probably has to go back to Shelby or something!" Santana reminds her friend, and Quinn can feel her hands twitching at her sides. "It's her. I know it." Quinn repeats, looking over to Brittany, who shrugs helplessly. "Maybe you were just feeling lonely when you saw her-"

"Or hung over!" Santana interrupts loudly, and Quinn groans before swinging into the living room, where Beth seems to be sleeping. "She's exhausted. I wanna get some clothes for her later." Quinn murmurs to herself, and Santana rolls her eyes. "Then you'll never get rid of her."

Quinn narrows her eyes. "Who said that I wanted to get rid of her?" She snaps back, and Brittany is prepared to step in to break up a fight. Brittany places a soothing hand on her wife's shoulder before Santana can say anything. "Look, Quinn," Santana starts, struggling to make her voice gentle. "We need to talk about this. You don't know if she's your kid." She points out.

Quinn clenches her jaw. "I'm not throwing her back on the street." She declares. "No one's saying that you have to." Brittany steps in. "Okay, let's say that she is your Beth, alright?" Santana starts and Quinn folds her arms across her chest. "What if she's running away from Shelby? You'll have to send her back sometime, because there are probably people looking for her, and if they find her in your apartment you'll get arrested for kidnapping." Santana explains to her friend, trying to make her understand.

"What if Shelby doesn't want her? Or something happened?" Quinn points out. "She'd still be a ward of the state." Santana shrugs, but she can practically see the light bulb light up above Quinn's head. "But then that means I can become her foster parent, right?" She asks, and Santana rolled her eyes. "But who said that she was a ward of the state? Who even said that she was Beth?"

"If there's any way in hell that she could be my daughter, I'm keeping her. Even if she isn't my daughter, I might keep her." Quinn declared, daring either of her friends to challenge her. Santana rolled her eyes before flaunting into the living room and shaking Beth awake. "What're you doing?" Quinn exclaimed, but Santana ignored her.

Beth had heard the sound of Santana's boots clicking towards her and was ready when the woman decided to shake her awake. "Why do you think that Quinn's your mother?" Santana asked bluntly, and Beth's eyes grew wide. Did she actually say that out loud? She doesn't remember mentioning anything, though the way that she stared at the picture could have given her away.

"Uh…" Beth licked her lips. "You don't have to answer that if you don't want to, sweetie." Quinn interjected, but Santana waved her away. "I mean, she looks like my mom. My bio mom, I mean." Beth stares down at the pair of jeans that Quinn let her borrow, afraid to meet Santana's eyes. "Bio mom?" Santana repeats. Beth nodded quickly. "I was adopted when I was a baby…but she died in a car accident when I was seven."

All of the women looked stunned with this answer, especially Quinn. "How old are you?" Quinn asks softly, an emotion in her eyes that Beth couldn't place. Beth looked back down at her legs. "Fourteen." She says simply. Beth would've told them that she was supposed to turn fifteen in June, though if Quinn is her mother she would probably know that piece of information. "So you've been on the streets for eight years." Santana rephrased incredulously. "In and out of foster homes, but sometimes the streets are better." Beth shrugs.

Santana looks over to Quinn, and the two seem to share an unspoken conversation before Quinn grabs her pocketbook from where she threw it on the coffee table earlier. "Come on," Quinn says, tossing her North Face over to Beth while digging in the closet for another jacket.

"Where are we going?" Beth asked, looking startled. When Quinn didn't answer, Beth turned to Santana and Brittney, who looked just as confused as she. "To run some errands," Quinn called.

What did you think?