_I was so annoyed at the writers for depriving us of the angsty, waiting-for-news-on-Carla scenes after her suicide attempt that I decided I'd write it myself! I hope I can do it some kind of justice. This is set between the episodes 29th and 30th September 2011.

I know I'm about 3 months too late with this, but it's been sitting half written on my laptop for a while before I persuaded myself to finish it. Reviews are always appreciated :)

Tea. What was it about tea and hospitals? He barely drank it any other time, yet as soon as he set foot in a hospital he suddenly wanted it on a drip. Still, it was better than a bottle of whiskey. As Leanne passed him yet another cup of barely drinkable sludge, Peter tried to force some kind of smile, but knew he was failing.

"She'll be ok, you know." Leanne tried to comfort him.

It'd been 2 hours since they'd raced to Carla's flat to find her seemingly lifeless on the floor, an empty bottle of sleeping pills by her side and an empty vodka bottle on the table. Peter was no doctor, but even he knew the severity of such an overdose. You don't chase a bottle of sleeping pills with a bottle of vodka expecting to wake up in the morning.

"And if she's not?" Peter signed, putting the cup down on the table in front of him.

"Well then, it won't be your fault. You did all you could for her."

Peter couldn't help but laugh at her claim. He'd failed her and he knew it. He was the one person Carla could turn to and he'd abandoned her when she needed him most. He may not have forced her take those pills, but he may as well have done. It his fault Carla had even got involved with the Frank in the first place. It was him who talked her into accepting his proposal, him who repeatedly told her what a good man Frank was. 'A good man': The words stuck in this throat and made him want to vomit. None of this would've happened if he hadn't had got involved.

Leanne sighed and sat down next to her husband, putting her arm around him. "You saved her life, Peter. She's gonna pull through, and when she does she'll tell you that herself".

"I only answered that call because you forced me to, Lee. "

"…And the only reason you weren't going to was because I made you chose. " She pulled him closer to her, seeing suddenly the conflict in his eyes. "Listen to me, this is not your fault."

Peter sighed and leaned back in his chair. There was no point in trying to make her understand how he felt, he knew she never could.

He sipped his tea; it was tasteless. He wasn't sure if it was his nerves killing his taste buds or the quality of the teabag, but either way it was undrinkable.

Everything felt hollow, almost dreamlike. Like nothing had really been real since the moment they'd arrived at Carla's flat. Placing his cup on the table so forcefully he almost threw it, Peter wished with every fibre of his being that this was nothing but a bad dream. Any minute now, he'd wake up. And the first thing he would do was go over to Carla's, throw his arms around her and tell her he loved her.

He loved her. The realization hit him so suddenly and yet so naturally that for a second he literally stopped breathing. No, he didn't love her. He couldn't, could he? They were both so damaged and she was just so fragile and terrified… How could he even be thinking like this while she could well be dying a few doors away?

What was happening? "Where the hell is that nurse?" Peter felt his body suddenly flood with unexplained rage. "She said she'd keep us informed, she's been gone hours!"

"I'm sure she will do, love". Leanne put her arms around him, but he shrugged her off. He wanted to scream at her, tell her to go away and leave him alone, tell her he hated her for those vile things she'd said to Carla mere hours before she overdosed, but the words couldn't come out, so he just moved further over in his chair and looked up at the clock for the sixth time in the same minute.