Set following the episode on March 9th where Carla was arrested in the Rovers. Slightly AU and not sure that the police would allow certain things but anyway regardless hope you enjoy.
Carla lay against the stiff, unfamiliar bed, moonlight beaming through the thin bars of the windows. She hoped that Peter hadn't faltered and continued his drinking. Bile rose in her throat as she shook her head knowing that whilst she knew she was innocent the police were determined to prove otherwise. Tears of despair and anger rose in her green eyes and she sniffed knowing that this was not a good sign, if she was struggling to cope spending one night in a police cell then how could she hope to survive if…if no evidence could be brought up to defend her and she ended up in prison. She stood up tired of lying there and sleep proving futile.
Ken sat down looking at his son. "Do you think she did it?" He asked as Peter shrugged. He didn't want to believe Carla capable but she was terrified and broken following Frank's and Jenny's manipulation and well she had said Frank had threatened her once more and maybe in her panic she had lashed out. He wouldn't't believe she had calculatingly planned to kill but in order to defend herself, terrified then perhaps she had lashed out. He shook his head. "I shouldn't be here. I should be at the station. She's bound to be terrified." Peter said as Ken shook his head.
"You won't be able to see her, you'll be no help to her sat there. No the best thing you can do is get a decent sleep and then be ready to welcome her home tomorrow." Ken said as Peter glanced up.
"You don't think she did it then?"
"No, she wouldn't. Whatever I think of you and Carla and the way you got together that woman loves you. She wouldn't't let you possibly take the wrap if she was guilty. I don't think either of you are guilty of this." Ken said as he looked at his son who looked broken at the fact Carla had been arrested.
Carla felt a wave of dizziness as she retched over the toilet. Perhaps the police would think she was trying to evoke sympathy but she wasn't. She felt awful, though she supposed that was to be expected having spent the past two nights either fretting about where Peter was or lying awake wandering if he was capable of killing Frank. She heaved once again and felt herself slump a little weakened by lack of sleep and having not eaten properly since Peter had gone drinking. She placed her hand on the cold brick wall in an attempt to steady herself. She felt tracks of tears slip down her cheeks as she wandered what Peter was doing. She hoped that he wasn't alone, had turned back to the bottle. She didn't need to be worrying about him too right now. She needed him to be strong, to keep her focused and not devoured by the worry of been the main suspect of a crime that she did not commit.
Peter sighed as he could smell the lingering scent of Carla's perfume that had infused the pillow on her side of the bed. God he wished she was here beside him, that he could wrap his arms round her and kiss her gently, kiss away her worries. He hated the thought of her in a police cell, she hated been on her own, a fact he'd only recently realised. It was bad enough been held there himself when they were questioning him and he knew that Carla would struggle. For all her front and confidence deep down she was fragile and needed reassurance. His head hurt as he thought of her sobbing and alone.
Carla sniffed as she felt her stomach lunge again. What the hell was wrong with her? She heaved once more and wandered if the officers would be angry if she put her call bell on and asked for some water or something to rid the taste of nausea in her throat. Somehow she doubted that DI Nash would be happy see if the on-call doctor would come and check on her. What if they thought the sickness was a sign of guilt? That it was finally dawning on her what she had done. She hugged her knees to her chest as she was reluctant to leave the spot by the toilet lest she throw up once more. "You okay in there?" A voice asked and Carla looked up to see a pair of eyes at the small hatch in the door. "I….I've been sick, co…could I have some more water?" Carla asked softly. The officer looked at her and nodded seeing her pasty face and wandered if he should contact the doctor see if there was anything wrong. He nodded and went to go and fill a plastic mug with some more water. "I reckon we should get the on-call doctor in. That lass in cell 3 isn't looking too great." He said to the desk sergeant.
"Well you wouldn't be looking too good if you were facing up to 20 years for murder." The desk sergeant said seemingly unmoved. "But Sid she's been sick and looked like death warmed up when I checked in on her. Surely it'd be best for us to get her checked over. Last thing we want is some enquiry into a detainee dying in one of our holding cells." The more compassionate of the officers stated as the desk sergeant sighed but picked up the small phone on the desk dialling to request the presence of the station on-call doctor.
Peter paced the bedroom floor wishing he could do something, he knew that Carla was no doubt the prime suspect in DI Nash's eyes at the very least and he couldn't fathom the thought of her despairing in a squalid, small cell. She might put on a front for the rest of the world but he knew that she was vulnerable and that her arrest would be terrifying her. He sighed spotting one of her tops hanging from a hanger on the wardrobe door. She'd want some more clothes he knew that and busied himself getting an outfit together that he knew she was fond of. If that was the only thing he could do for now then he would do it, he just wished there was more he could do.
"Mrs Connor I'm going to take your blood pressure and temperature see what's going on." The elderly doctor said gently as he looked at the pasty woman. He'd been filled in briefly on the poor woman's case and found his heart aching on her behalf. He duly carried out his tests and furrowed his brow thoughtfully. "No temperature but your blood pressure is a little high. Mrs Connor from what you've said, whilst it could merely be shock of what you are going through right now is there any possibility you could be pregnant?" He asked softly. Carla looked up momentarily stumped by what he had asked and silently did some counting back in her head as she shook her head slowly. She was late, with the trial and then everything with Simon, Leanne and things well she hadn't even thought about it. But he was right her period had finished on 11th January and well she hadn't even realised that she had missed it in February. "Oh god." She muttered as she rubbed her temple almost angry at herself.
"We can get you a test sorted." The doctor said sensing that the poor woman hadn't even considered pregnancy as a possibility. "Wo…would you?" Carla asked as she looked up with glazed eyes.
"Yeah. Listen I need to have a quick word with the officer and we'll sort out a test." The doctor said as he sensed the woman sat opposite was taken aback by the fact she might be expecting. "I….I need Peter." She whimpered a little shakily under her breath. "Who's Peter?" The doctor asked.
"My partner. I need him." She said again as she hurriedly brushed away a tear from her cheek almost afraid of appearing weak.
"What do you mean I can't see her!" Peter said angrily as he banged his fist on the desk of Wetherfield Police Station. "Mr Barlow I urge you to calm yourself down, else you'll be looking at spending a little time in the cells yourself." The desk sergeant said as he rolled his eyes at the agitated man in front of him. "But you don't understand she's scared and I need to see her." Peter said as he shook his head.
"She's currently in the interview room and I can't allow you access. It's best you go home and wait further news." The officer said as he frowned slightly at the angry expression on the man's face.
"I'll wait here then. I assume you can't do me for sitting here and waiting." Peter said as he sat down on a plastic seat his eyes dark and brooding.
Carla sat still coming to terms with the fact that the doctor had confirmed that she was expecting and by his calculations he suspected she was around seven weeks along. "Mrs Connor you have a clear motive for wanting Mr Foster dead. He was acquitted of your rape an.."
"No wait he wasn't convicted of a rape, they didn't believe it took place so how can you now say it's a motive." Carla said haughtily almost as her hand gently rested against her flat stomach, absent-mindedly. She just wanted the interview done, she needed to go home, to speak to Peter. She wasn't sure how he would feel about a baby, nor was she truly sure how she felt. But she did know she wanted out of here, this small interview room opposite two sour-faced individuals who already had decided she was the guilty party before they'd done any investigating.
Peter sighed as he looked up hoping that it would be Carla coming out of the interviewing suites, shaking her head at the officers and ready to go home. It seemed as though he had been here for ages waiting and he'd seen neither sight nor sound of her. "Mate I'm telling you it'll be best you go wait at home. It'll be a fair while yet." The desk sergeant said feeling a little sorry for the poor guy who seemed agitated waiting for news on his partner. "No I can't go home. Not without seeing her. Come on mate she's been held for longer than she should have been." He reasoned as he hoped to appeal to the officers better nature.
"Look I can't promise anything mate but I'll see if I can sort something so you can see her."
"Carla. Oh love." Peter said as he sat down opposite her. They'd finally allowed her a break from the interviews and allowed Peter to see her in the interview room albeit they were fully aware that police were likely watching in. She sniffed slightly as he placed his hand over hers. "I thought they would have let you go by now." He said as Carla wiped her eyes.
"Awkward circumstances Peter. They wanted to interview me first thing but the doctor vetoed it said I need to have some rest." Carla said as Peter looked slightly concerned.
"The doctor vetoed it, are you okay?" He said concern creeping I as he worried momentarily why she had been seen specifically by a doctor and why he might have advised that Carla be allowed significant rest. His mind thought back to that awful day when she had tried to take her own life and he felt bile rise in his throat. "Yo…you didn't try anything stupid did you love?" He said gently as Carla looked a little offended by his words. "No, no I didn't. I was dizzy though an…and well this fairly okay copper said that I needed to see the doctor, Peter I'm pregnant." She said softly as Peter looked up.
"Pregnant?"
"Aha." Carla said as she looked at him trying to read his emotions. "Peter say something. Please." She said after several moments of silence. Peter shook his head disbelievingly. "Pregnant. Ho…how.."
"I think you know how Peter. The doctor reckons I'm about seven weeks or so. I….I didn't even think about the fact I'd skipped my period, what with the trial and then the fallout from our affair been unveiled. I swear Peter I didn't know." Carla said as Peter ran his hand through his hair and then smiled gently at her. "Hey what's the sad look for love, you not wanting to keep it?" He asked as she bit her lip.
"I didn't think you would. But well I don't know, it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world would it?" Carla said softly as her fingers lightly brushed over his. There was a knock on the door and Carla looked up to see DI Nash glowering at them both. "I think that's enough chatter for now Mrs Connor you and Mr Barlow shouldn't be even speaking together really." He said as Carla sighed but reluctantly nodded.
"I love you Peter." She said as Peter kissed her gently knowing that he would not let her stay in that hell-hole nor any prison especially not when she was carrying his child. "I love you too sweetheart more than you'll ever know." He said as he silently swore to himself that he would not let her take the blame. He knew he needed to see Simon before he did anything drastic but there was no way he was letting Carla be blamed for this crime. No way was he going to have his child born in a prison, his or her mother handcuffed as she gave birth even if the only solution meant he would have to spend the next ten to twenty years inside.