Author's note: Sorry this one took a bit longer to get out, I made some last-minute changes to fit some of the upcoming spoilers. Obviously this story isn't the same as what's playing out on screen, but I don't want to veer too off course. Thanks for all the reviews, and to the person who pointed out I made an error with Peter's age - whoops, my bad! Hope you're all still reading along and enjoying the story. It's interesting to see how differently Simon's storyline is turning out on the show (seems to have become less about Simon and more about Leanne who's become an informant).

Chapter 5 – The Plan

"You could've called to say you were coming over," Leanne sighed at her sister in the doorway.

"Well normally I would've but you've been dodging my calls." Leanne begrudgingly stepped aside and Toyah slipped past her into the apartment. She only took a few steps before stopping in her tracks, her mouth falling open. "Jesus Christ, Lee… the place looks like a bomb's hit it. The Tv's smashed to pieces! What the hell happened?"

"We were burgled."

"What? When?"

"A few weeks ago now."

"And why am I only just hearing about it?!"

"Sorry, I've had a lot on…" Leanne walked over to the kettle. "Drink?"

She made them coffee and they sat drinking it on the sofa. Toyah's eyes trailed around the room as she took a sip. "So did the police catch the scumbags who did this?"

"They're still looking," Leanne lied.

Setting down her mug, Toyah cleared her throat. "So Imran tells me you asked about upping your hours at work?"

"Yeah, I did. But he said no."

"He was only thinking of you, Lee. He didn't want you taking on too much so soon after… well… you know." She gave a brief pause before continuing, "You've not been answering my calls, I've barely seen you in weeks… I'm worried about you, Lee. Everybody is."

"Well, as you can see, I'm fine. All I wanted was a few extra shifts to earn some extra cash, I really don't see what the problem was, but fine, whatever I suppose."

"Why, is money a bit tight at the moment?"

The question immediately put Leanne's back up. "No. Why would you ask that?"

"It's just with you wanting more hours at work and…" Toyah gestured to the broken items around the room. "You've got a load of stuff here that needs replacing."

"Yeah, and I'm getting round to it," Leanne insisted. "I've just been busy. But it's got nothing to do with not having the money."

That was a lie. It had everything to do with money. But Leanne couldn't tell Toyah about what was really going on. She'd already dragged Peter and Carla into this mess, the least she could do was spare her sister.

"Okay," Toyah said, backing off. "But you do know if money was ever an issue, which I'm not saying it is, but if it were, you can always go to Nick. We've got a new client at the factory who's brought a shed load of orders our way so Nick must be raking it in. I opened the safe this morning and you wouldn't believe how much money's stashed away in there! Easily thirty grand or so. I was tempted to swipe some into my handbag when Sarah wasn't looking," she laughed. "So if ever you do need a bit of help, you know, financially, I'm sure Nick would be more than happy to help."

Toyah offered her a kind smile but Leanne shrugged it off. "Thanks but I don't need Nick's help or his money. Besides, Nick's got other priorities now, remember."

Toyah caught onto the meaning of her words and sighed heavily. "Lee, Nick having Sam in his life shouldn't have to change things between you."

"Don't be so naïve, Toyah, of course it changes things. It changes everything."

Sam was a grenade that had unexpectedly been thrown into their lives. It wasn't Sam's fault of course, but every time Leanne looked at him all she could think about was Oliver and the fact he was no longer here and how unfair it was that Nick had gained a son just as she'd lost hers. The timing of it couldn't have been crueller. She resented Sam, and she hated the fact she resented him, because from what little she'd seen of him, he seemed like a lovely little boy; polite, charming, funny, exceptionally bright…

But she couldn't bring herself to accept him as part of the family, because doing that would mean betraying Oliver. It was an irrational way to look at it, she knew that, but grief was irrational. As long as Sam was around, there couldn't be a future for her and Nick.

"I've decided that when Nick gets back from London, I'm going to tell him that it's over."

Toyah begged her to reconsider. "But you and Nick are meant for each other. You've loved him since you were sixteen."

"My decision's final," she snapped. "And don't you dare try to talk me out of it."

That afternoon, after finally convincing her sister to leave, Leanne received a rather worrying phone call from the hospital. She knocked on Simon's door before entering and found the teenager sat on his bed with his coursework sprawled out in front of him. He smiled up at her and pulled out his earphone. "What's up?"

She moved over from the doorway and perched herself on the edge of his bed. "Listen, Si, something's happened," she began slowly. "Carla just called from the hospital. Your dad's had another seizure."

Simon sat up with worry. "Another one? But he told me the seizures had stopped. What brought it on? Was it alcohol? Has he been drinking again?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "They're running a few tests so we should know more soon."

"Can we go and see him?"

"Not today, he won't be up for visitors. We'll go tomorrow when he's perked up a little, yeah?"

Simon nodded but didn't look very reassured. "Mum, be honest with me. Is dad going to die?"

The question threw Leanne. She wasn't sure how to answer. "I don't know, Si. But he's very sick."

"What does that mean? How sick?"

"His liver's failing," she told him. "It's likely that at some stage he'll need a transplant and that's a lengthy process. He's got to be sober for at least six months before they can ever consider putting him on the transplant list. And if he's lucky enough to get on the list, then comes the question of finding him a suitable liver."

"And what if they can't find a match? What happens then?"

She thought carefully about how to answer. "If for whatever reason they can't find a match, then…"

"He'll die," Simon said at her hesitation. "Just say it!"

"That's not going to happen," she assured him. "Your dad's not going to die."

"Stop living in denial! This is just like when Oliver was sick! You couldn't face facts then, and you can't now!"

Throwing his textbooks aside, he ran out of the bedroom in tears.

"Simon, where are you going?" she called after him. "Si, come back!"

She heard the front door go and dropped her head against Simon's pillow, closing her eyes.

Simon wandered aimlessly through the streets, his father weighing heavily on his mind. Why did life have it out for him? He'd lost so many people he loved: his real mother, Tina, Kal, his grandma Deirdre, Oliver, and now he was going to lose his dad to the one thing that had always consumed his life.

"Well, look who it is! If it isn't my bezzie mate!"

Simon looked up from the pavement and saw Jacob standing outside the chippy, leaning against the railing with a cocky grin.

"So that psycho mum of yours has left you out the house, has she?"

Simon ignored him and kept walking but Jacob followed after him. "Heard about your dad being rushed into hospital this morning. Sounds like the old codger's on his last legs. Won't be long before he joins your little brother in the knackers yard."

Simon quickened his pace. "Do one, Jacob. I've got nothing to say to you."

"Oh really? Cos I've got plenty to say to you." Jacob launched at him and shoved him into the nearby ginnel, pinning him against the wall. "I'm in a lot of trouble cos of you. I'm the one who vouched for you, told Harvey you were sound, that you could be trusted… but the minute things got too much for you, off you went crying to mummy and daddy. And now you've got them fighting your battles." He sniggered. "But by the looks of it your alky dad ain't got much fight left in him, and as for your prozzie mum? Well, don't make me laugh."

Jacob brandished a pocket knife and held it to Simon's throat. "You're nothing but a liability, Simon. A little kid playing at a big boy's game. And right now mummy and daddy aren't around to protect you…"

Simon squirmed as the cold blade dug into his skin, drawing blood. Jacob's eyes were dark and vengeful. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't do Harvey a favour and finish you off right here, right now?"

He was being deadly serious and Simon knew he had to think of something quickly. In his panic, he remembered the conversation he'd overheard between his mother and aunt that morning. "Because I know a way for us to make a shed load of money!" he cried.

This piqued Jacob's interest and he raised his brows as if to say, 'I'm listening'.

"My stepdad owns the knicker factory over the road," Simon explained, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he had time to think about them. "He's out of town for a few weeks but there's a spare key at the flat. I know for a fact there's over thirty grand tucked away in the safe. If we let ourselves in when the place is empty, we can raid the safe and give the cash to Harvey. Thirty grand, Jacob, think how pleased he'll be."

Jacob kept the knife to his throat as he considered it. "One slight problem with your plan, Genius. How do you plan on opening the safe?"

"Leave that with me," Simon said.

Jacob quirked his brow, a smirk appearing. "So you'd rob your own family's business?"

"To get Harvey off their backs, yes I would."

Jacob lowered the knife, then he laughed, "Mate, that's seriously messed up!"

"So do we have a plan?" Simon tried to sound cool and confident despite being secretly terrified.

"I'll have to run it by Harvey first, see what he says," said Jacob. "I'll meet you back here say eight o'clock with an answer. Don't be late."

When Simon returned home that night, he found his dinner waiting for him on the table.

"I've cooked us burgers and chips, your favourite," Leanne said.

"Not hungry," Simon said as he shrugged off his jacket.

He started walking towards his bedroom.

"Please, Si. Come sit down."

He looked at his mother sat at the table, her eyes pleading, and reluctantly he did as she asking, joining her at the table, but instead of eating his food, he prodded it with a fork.

"So where did you go?" Leanne asked.

"For a walk," he said with a solemn shrug. "Needed to clear my head."

"And did it help?"

"Not really," he uttered miserably.

A pause, then she asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"About what?"

"Your dad."

He met her gaze for the first time during their exchange. "I think we've said all we need to on that front, don't you?"

Sighing, Leanne lowered her knife and fork to her plate. "Listen, about what was said earlier… you were right. Mitochondrial disease is incurable and I was in denial about that because I couldn't face the thought of losing Oliver. But with your dad, there's every chance he'll pull through. In fact, the success rate of a liver transplant is really high. So there's every reason to have hope." Simon took comfort in her words and she smiled, glad she'd gotten through to him. "Once you've eaten your burger why don't we set up the laptop and watch a movie? Our lives have been so chaotic that I want us to do something nice, normal for a change. I'll even let you pick the film. What do you say?"

He let up a small smile. "Yeah, I'd like that."

"Sorry to have kept you waiting," said the consultant as she entered the room holding a clipboard. Peter sat up at her arrival and looked to Carla who hadn't left his bedside all day. She sensed his worry and gave his hand a gentle squeeze, just as anxious as he was to hear the results of the tests.

"So," the consultant began, "the results show that your seizure was brought on by something called Hepatic Encephalopathy."

"In English please," said Carla.

"It's essentially the build-up of toxins in the bloodstream that wreak havoc on the body when they enter the brain. It can cause forgetfulness, slurred speech, changes in behaviour, and in more severe cases, seizures."

Carla and Peter shared a worried glance. "So how do we stop it from happening again?" Carla asked.

"I'm going to prescribe lactulose and Neomycin which will help rid the body of toxins, but these are only short terms solutions to a much larger problem. I'm afraid we've reached a critical point, Mr Barlow. The damage done to your liver is irreversible. Our only option now is a liver transplant."

Peter nodded slowly as he processed the devastating blow. "I see."

"I realise this is distressing news."

"How soon can he get a transplant? Carla asked. "What's the procedure here? He goes on a list and we wait for a liver to become available? How long is that going to take? How long does he have?"

The doctor did her best to answer the bombardment of questions. "Firstly we'll need to run a few more tests to decide whether Peter is suitable to go on the waiting list. If he is, then he'll have to wait until a suitable liver becomes available and that can take any length of time. It's also important to remember that livers are in high demand, so if a liver does become available we'll then have to decide who needs it the most."

"So in other words, there's no guarantee I'll get one?"

"There's no guarantee, no." The consultant lowered her head, wishing she had better news.

"I understand," Peter said. "Thank you, doctor."

At his side, Carla was struggling to keep it together. "I'm sorry, excuse me." She tore her hand from Peter's and rushed out the room.

The doctor left Peter alone to digest the news and a short while later, after composing herself, Carla returned and retook her place at his bedside. "Sorry for walking out like that."

"It's fine, I get it. It's a lot to take in."

"How can you be so calm?"

"Because what right do I have to be angry? I did this to myself, all of it. I've spent years drinking myself into oblivion, putting my liver through the wringer… now it's time to face the consequences." He didn't sound self-pitying, just accepting. He offered her a small smile. "Listen, love, if you want to walk—"

"What?" she scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous!"

"I'm not. We've got to be realistic here. There's a good chance I might not make it through this. So if you want to get out now, I won't hold it against you."

"I'm going nowhere," she said stubbornly. "And neither are you. And to prove it, I've got a question I want to ask you. And I'll only accept one answer."

He waited for her to continue and what came out of her mouth stunned him. "Will you marry me?"

He stared at her for the longest time, trying to work out if she was serious or not. "I - I don't understand."

"Why not? It's a simple enough question."

He shook his head. "You're doing this out of pity, because you think I'm dying."

"I'm doing this because I love you," she insisted. "Because I want to be there for you, for richer or poorer, for better or worse, in sickness and in health…." She swallowed and took his hand in hers. "So… what do you say?"

Despite his obvious shock, he managed a nod, tears welling in his eyes.

She smiled at him. "Is that a yes?"

He remembered he could speak and said, "Yes! Of course it is… yes!"

"Good." She leaned over and kissed him. "Because we've got a long future together, you and me, so you can't go giving up now, I won't let you."

While his mother cleared away the dishes after dinner, Simon snuck out to meet Jacob in the ginnel.

"So?" Simon asked as he approached the older boy.

"We're on," Jacob said under the mask of shadow. "We do it tomorrow. It'll just be the two of us. We'll go in when the place is empty like you said and clear the safe."

Simon nodded. "And if I give Harvey the money, will that guarantee my family's safety? Will he leave them alone?"

"I reckon so."

"I'm going to need more than that, Jacob. I need assurances."

Jacob rolled his eyes. "Yes, he'll leave them alone, he'll leave you alone. But only if we get him the money. He's counting on us now. We can't mess this up."

"And we won't," Simon assured him.

"Right, so tomorrow then?"

Simon nodded. "Tomorrow."

Author's note: Hmm.. this plan of Simon's has surely got disaster written all over it. Please leave a review if you feel like it, love hearing feedback or any predictions you might have! As always, thanks for reading.