Title: Willow Rosenberg, Child Psychologist

Author: mistymidnight

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I own the plot, as well as Taylor, Maxwell, Carly, Erin, Noah, and Aimee. Gidgetgirl owns Zane, Thayer, Sophie, Lola, as well as the plot to the companion fic to this one, "Fully Qualified". Joss Whedon owns the canon and all the characters not mentioned in this disclaimer. (Excluding Lola's mother, who I also own and haven't bothered to name.)

Spoilers/Timeline: Post-Chosen, after my other fic "Fully Qualified".

Summary: Sequel to "Fully Qualified". Willow's life has quieted down. But do things ever stay quiet when you're a Scooby?

Author's Notes: Hello, hello, I'm back again.

Please please pretty please review this chapter! I only got 2 reviews last time (much thanks to Faeries Twilight and Freezyboncoolipants, by the way), and that's just not good for my self-esteem. Every time I open up my inbox and see that there are new reviews, I get a little thrill. Yes, I am pathetic; you'll just have to deal with it, 'cause I'm the author here, mmkay?

Hospital Trip

After Taylor had been calmed and put back to bed, Willow cleaned up the crayons and fell asleep on the couch. When she woke up, there was snow steadily falling outside the window. What time is it? She wondered. She glanced at the digital clock on the TV's cable box. 8:58!

"Carly?" she called, immediately worried. It wasn't like Carly not to call if there had been a change in plans.

Maybe she forgot, Willow thought, trying to stay calm. Maybe she spent the night with Noah and she just…forgot. For nine hours. About me. And her only daughter whom she values above everything else.

"Carly!" she called again, louder and more panicked. There was no answer.

She ran in to check on Taylor, who was sleeping soundly, a stuffed cat clutched to her chest. Assured that Taylor was okay, Willow turned to her next order of business: finding out of Carly was okay, too.

She located the list of emergency numbers posted on the fridge and picked up the phone, trying Carly's cell phone first—no answer.

She tried calling Noah—she got his voicemail. After leaving a brief message asking about Carly's whereabouts, she hung up.

She called Carly's work number, her neighbors, and anyone listed as an emergency contact. No one knew where Carly was.

After her tenth phone call, Willow put down the emergency contact sheet and opened the phone book. It was time to start calling hospitals.

By the time Taylor woke up, Willow had located Carly at Saint Michael's hospital, packed a bag of things to bring her, made Pop-Tarts for breakfast, and laid out all Taylor's winter outerwear: boots, hat, gloves, jacket, scarf.

Taylor plodded in, holding the stuffed cat still. "Willow?" she asked. "Where's Mommy?"

"Mommy isn't home, sweetie," Willow explained, trying to figure out how to give Taylor the news in the least upsetting way possible. "Mommy's at the hospital, but she's going to be okay."

Taylor's lip quivered and she asked, "What happened?"

"I don't know, sweetie," Willow confessed. "But we're gonna go see her, okay? So why don't you eat this Pop-Tart and I'll go lay out some clothes for you."

Taylor nodded slowly and hugged her stuffed cat. Willow knelt down and wrapped both Taylor and the stuffed animal in a hug. "It'll be okay, sweetie," she said soothingly. "We're gonna go see your mom. It'll be okay."

Am I trying to reassure her, Willow wondered, or am I trying to reassure myself?

She pushed the thought to the back of her mind and went to pick out an outfit for Taylor.

It was 9:41 when Willow and Taylor reached the hospital. Traffic had been slow because of the ever-falling snow, and every minute stuck in traffic seemed like an hour.

Willow and Taylor pushed through the revolving doors into the hospital lobby, and Willow practically charged the receptionist's desk. "Carly Hill," she gasped to the receptionist, out of breath from worry and the zillion layers of winter wear she had on.

"Are you family?" the receptionist asked.

"Yes," Willow lied. "I am her…sister. In law. Willow Hill."

The receptionist raised an eyebrow and looked at Taylor. "Your daughter?"

"Carly's," Willow explained. "May we see her, please?"

The receptionist glanced at her computer screen and said, "Room 412. The elevator's over there." She gestured in the general direction of the elevator and then went back to scribbling something on a clipboard. Willow and Taylor set off for the elevator.

By the time the elevator had reached the fourth floor, Taylor had left a bruise on Willow's hand from squeezing it so tightly. They began walking down the hallway, past room 402, 404, 406, 408… With every door they passed, Willow felt more and more sick to her stomach. Is she okay? What happened? Will she recover? What will happen to Taylor? Should I call Carly's work and let them know she's here? Should I call Taylor's preschool and tell them she won't be in? Or is it a snow day? What should I tell Taylor? What if we walk in and she sees her mother on death's door or something?

She looked up at the numbers on the door in front of her: 412. They were there.

"Wait right here, sweetie," Willow said, maneuvering her hand out of Taylor's grip, which was surprisingly strong for such a little girl. "Just for a second. I'm gonna tell your Mom that you're coming."

Taylor looked doubtful.

"Don't worry, Taylor, it'll be like you're royalty or a famous person. I'll go in and say, 'Presenting Miss Taylor Hill!' Okay?"

Taylor sniffed and nodded, and Willow smiled before opening the door and stepping into Carly's hospital room.

There were machines beeping, and most of them were hooked up to Carly, who sat under the covers, propped up by a pillow. Her eyes were closed, but when she heard Willow enter the room, she opened them and looked over.

"Hey," she whispered. "Sorry I didn't call."

Willow smiled a little bit. "Least of my worries right now," she replied, before adding, "Taylor wants to see you."

"Have her come in," Carly said. "I want to see my baby."

Willow walked over to the door and stuck her head into the hallway. "Taylor? You can come in now." Taylor nodded and followed Willow into the room.

"Hey, sweetheart," Carly said. "Come give your Mommy a hug."

Taylor walked over to her mother and gingerly hugged her, trying not to disturb the tubes attached to Carly's face and arm.

"Mommy, what happened?" Taylor asked.

"Mommy had an accident," Carly explained. "Now, sweetie, I really, really want to talk to you, but right now I need to talk to Willow." She caught the attention of the nurse entering the room and asked, "Will you watch her for a minute?"

"Of course," the nurse nodded, gently taking Taylor by the hand. "Come on, sweetie," she said, leading Taylor out of the room. "I'll get you a coloring book. Would you like that?"

As soon as Taylor and the nurse were out of earshot, Willow asked, "What happened?"

Carly sighed. "I don't know for sure," she said. "Uh, Noah dropped me off about a block away from the apartment. We couldn't get onto the street actually in front of the apartment because there was a car accident or something and the road was blocked off. He would've walked me home," Carly went on, anticipating Willow's next question, "but he'd just been beeped. His sister was in the hospital, having a baby, and I insisted that he go see her. He's her only family in this area, and the baby's father is out of the picture." She snorted. "Sort of like another deadbeat dad I know of. Anyway, I told him I'd just walk the extra block home and I'd be fine. I mean, I've walked down that block a million times, right? Nothing bad was gonna happen."

"Then what happened?"

"Someone came up behind me and threw a plastic bag over my head and pulled it tight. I started to gasp, and then they pushed me into the side of a building. I couldn't scream, what with the wind being knocked out of me from the impact and, y'know, the bag on my head." She stopped for a moment and tried to pull her thoughts together. "They kept saying something about a…a…chancellor or a chandelier or a…channel! That's it, a channel! I had no idea what they were talking about." She looked up at Willow and a tear streamed down her cheek. "That's the last thing I remember. I guess they knocked me out, because next thing I know, I'm here and my wallet's gone."

"How'd they ID you?"

"I woke up and told them."

Willow nodded. "So, what's wrong with you? Medically, I mean."

Carly gave a short, bitter laugh. "What's not? I'm kinda glad I blacked out—I guess they worked me over pretty well while I was unconscious. Bastard."

"So how long are you in here for?"

"A few days at the least, a week or two at the most."

"What are you going to do about Taylor?"

Carly gave a weak smile. "I was sort of hoping she could stay with you."

"Oh, of course! Sure, she can stay with me. No problem."

Carly relaxed and laid back into her pillow a bit more. "Thanks. I knew there was a reason I became friends with you."

Willow smiled and patted Carly's hand. "Smart move on your part, huh?" She got out of the chair she had been sitting in and walked to the door. "I'm gonna go get Taylor."

Behold, readers of mine, and anti-climactic chapter ending!

I started this chapter awhile ago and finished and posted it today in honor of gidgetgirl's "Write a Sequel Week". Seeing as I have no sequels to write, I figured I'd make it, for me, "Update a Sequel Week". You like? Let me know, as always—REVIEW!

mistymidnight