Chapter 27 – The Wedding Part 4

Carla awoke on the ground. Her head pounded as she blinked up at her strange surroundings. Everywhere was dark and smoky and the air was hot and stifling, making it difficult to breathe.

Somebody was knelt over her, shaking her by the shoulders. Carla detected the faintest whiff of whiskey on their breath. As her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, Peter's handsome features came into focus. He was talking down to her, but his words were inaudible thanks to the loud ringing in her ears.

What on earth was going on?

The last thing she remembered was closing her eyes and waiting for the gun to go off. Is that what had happened, had she been shot? Is that why she was on the ground?

She reached for her abdomen, expecting to bring her hand away covered in blood. But to her surprise, she felt no gaping wound, only the smooth satin of her gown.

As the ringing in her ears subsided, she was able to make out what Peter was saying. His voice sounded distant and far away but there was no mistaking its urgency. "Carla, love, can you hear me? I need you to get up. Come on, love, get up. We need to get out of here."

Carla had become distracted by what was going on above Peter's head. The ceiling, which had previously been adorned with golden string lights, now had loose wires and cables dangling from it.

"What's…" She struggled to get her words out, her throat hoarse. "What's happened?"

"I don't know." His head quickly darted from side to side. "There's been some kind of explosion."

An explosion. But how? From where?

Smoke tickled the back of her throat and she started to cough.

"Come on, love."

He helped her to her feet and steadied her as she rocked, a little disorientated.

Now, as she looked around her, she realised the full extent of the chaos.

The bistro was engulfed in darkness and smoke. The wall behind the bar had been completely knocked away, enabling them to see straight through into the kitchen where cupboard doors hung off their hinges. Bright orange flames ravaged through the kitchen and were starting to spread into the bar itself. On the other side of the bistro where the flames had not yet reached, chairs and tables from the wedding party lay in disarray, half-buried amongst fallen debris.

Everywhere Carla looked there was total and utter carnage. She couldn't make sense of it.

"Hey, over here! Over here!" A silhouette waved at them from the darkness. The voice belonged to Rob and Peter took Carla's hand as they began climbing over the rubble to reach him. Carla gathered up the loose material of her dress as it kept catching on fallen debris.

She found her brother trying to lift a beam that was trapping Tracy's arm. Tracy was lying on the floor, squirming in pain. "Get it off me!"

"Help me lift this off!" Rob said to them.

Carla and Peter crouched on separate sides of the beam, grabbing ahold of it, and on the count of three, they attempted to lift it.

"It's too heavy!" Carla cried.

They lowered it back down and Tracy gave another pained cry.

"Don't worry, we're going to get you out of here," Rob assured her, reaching down to stroke her hair as she ground her teeth against the searing pain.

Peter's eyes searched the inferno. "Where's Adam?"

Carla looked around but struggled to see anything through the smoke. All she could see was Gary lying face down on the ground, covered in dust, his gun lying just out of reach. Where Adam and Ritchie were, she had no idea.

Cupping his hands around his mouth, Peter hollered for his nephew. "Adam?! Adam, where are you?!"

A hand shot up from a mountain of rubble.

Peter saw it and rushed over. "Adam!"

He began shovelling off piles of fallen bricks and pulled his nephew to his feet. Adam coughed and spluttered as he wiped the dust from his eyes.

Peter cupped his face in his hands. "Hey, look at me! Are you okay?"

Adam could hardly speak. "Fine," he wheezed, before coughing some more. His eyes shot from side to side in panic. "What the hell happened?!"

"There's been an explosion…"

As Peter took in the chaos around him, he began being bombarded with flashbacks of being trapped in this very same building with Nick and Ashley. He felt that same claustrophobia now, that feeling of suffocation and entrapment. The alcohol in his system didn't help matters; it made everything blurry and hard to distinguish.

Get it together, he told himself.

They joined Carla and Rob who were still trying to lift the beam pinning Tracy down.

"Is everyone accounted for?" Carla asked.

Peter was about to answer when Rob cut him off. "No, not everyone…" He pointed to the blaze tearing through the kitchen. "Nick's in the fridge!"

Peter's eyes bulged. "The fridge?! What's he doing in there?!"

"It's a long story."

Peter looked over his shoulder at the kitchen. It had been the centre of the blast. There was no way Nick could have survived that. Nevertheless, Peter had to be sure.

Nick and Ashely had risked life and limb getting him out of the bistro when they easily could've abandoned him to save themselves. Peter would show Nick that same loyalty now.

He was grateful to see the double doors leading out of the restaurant remained intact. He grabbed Carla's hand to get her attention then looked at her and Rob. "Get this beam off Tracy then make your way to the exit." He patted his nephew on the back. "Adam, you're with me."

Carla caught Peter's arm before he could go running off. "Why, where are you going?!"

"To get Nick!"

Carla watched helplessly as he and Adam set off towards the kitchen, then Tracy's voice called her into action. "Oi! Stop standing around gawping and get this bloody thing off me!"

Bending his knees, Rob grabbed a hold of the beam and Carla grabbed the other end. "Right, on the count of three," he said. "One… Two… Three!"

Carla groaned and her arms trembled as she used all her strength to lift it off.

"Put some welly into it!" Rob cried.

"I am!" she said.

After three attempts, they managed to lift the beam just enough for Tracy to slide her arm out. She groaned as Rob helped her to her feet. Her left arm dangled at an unnatural angle as she clutched it to her chest.

Rob shielded his brow and squinted at the double doors. "Right, come on you two, let's get out of here!"

In the kitchen, Peter was wary of the flames as he banged on the steel door of the fridge which appeared to have withstood the blast. The handle was jammed and he couldn't get it to open. "Nick! Nick, mate! Can you hear me?"

He listened out for a reply then heard a weak banging come from inside.

He and Adam looked at each other and gave a cry of relief. Peter called out, "Listen, Nick, we're going to get you out of there, I promise! Just hang tight!"

He kicked at the metal handle, hoping to dislodge it, but the handle was firmly wedged in place.

Adam scoured the kitchen for something they could use to pry the door open and returned with a frying pan. He told Peter to stand back and starting whacking it against the handle.

Peter looked over his shoulder; the flames were getting dangerously close.

"It's not working!" cried Adam.

They needed to get Nick out of there – and fast.

Using the sleeve of his shirt to shield his mouth and nose from the smoke, Peter looked around the kitchen and spotted a knife on the worktop. He grabbed it, ignoring how hot it was, and slipped it into the narrow gap in the door. He managed to prize it open and inside they discovered Nick passed out on the floor next to a stack of frozen vegetables.

The blue lights of the fridge blinked on and off.

"Help me get him up," Peter said to Adam.

They took an arm each and dragged the unconscious man to his feet. They carried him out of the kitchen and into the bar, mindful of the flames and shards of broken glass. They stepped over Gary's body and Peter's eyes did a quick sweep for Ritchie but thankfully saw no sign of him. With any luck, he'd died in the blast or been buried under a mountain of rubble.

They reunited with Rob, Tracy and Carla at the double doors.

"What's the hold-up?" Peter asked them. "Why haven't you left yet?"

"Because it won't open!" Rob beat his fist against the door in frustration. "Gary must've locked it!"

Peter dug through his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. He tossed them over to Rob. "Here, it's the small silver one with the red band on it."

As Rob selected the key off the chain, a voice called out from behind them. "Oi! Donovan!"

They turned their heads and saw an injured Ritchie Silverman emerge from the smoke. He limped towards them, gun in hand. His clothes had been torn in several places and blood trickled down his forehead. His skin had bright red ugly patches from where the blast had caught him. It was a miracle the guy was still standing. He stopped within feet of them and, with a vengeful smirk, raised his gun.

Peter could see what was about to happen seconds before it did. As Ritchie took aim at Carla, Peter dove in front of her, pushing her out of the way. The bullet hit him below the ribs and he jolted at the impact, feeling the wind get knocked out of him.

Behind him came a scream. "Peter? Peter?!"

Carla caught him as he doubled over and her eyes widened at the red on his shirt. "Oh my god, oh my God…"

"I'm fine," he told her and forced himself to stand up straight. "I'm fine."

With everyone's eyes on Peter, Rob used the distraction to run over to Gary's body and grab the gun that was lying next to him.

He pointed it at Ritchie.

Then he called over his shoulder to Tracy. "Trace, get everybody out!"

Tracy managed to unlock the double doors and held them open so the others could pass through. Adam and Nick were first to head out, followed by Carla and Peter.

However, Tracy didn't leave.

She remained by the door and looked over at Rob. Bits of debris continued to fall from the ceiling as the fire wreaked havoc through the bar. "Rob, come on, let's go!"

"Don't worry about me," he said, not taking his eyes off Ritchie. "Just go. Help Peter. I'll follow."

"I'm not leaving without you!"

"Trace, for once in your life don't be a stubborn cow and do as I say! I'll be right behind you."

Tracy didn't know whether to believe him but she knew better than to argue. She threw him one last lingering look, begging him to be true to his word, to follow after her, before staggering towards daylight.

Alone in the bistro, Rob and Ritchie prepared for the final showdown. "So Donovan, it's just the two of us now. Only one of us is getting out of here alive. Who's it going to be?"

Carla staggered out of the bistro with Peter. She shielded her eyes against the blinding light and inhaled a deep breath of fresh air into her lungs. If she thought inside the bistro was chaotic, outside was even more so. There was a SWAT team perched on the rooftops; two ambulances, two fire engines and three police cars were on standby, and a mass of anxious residents had gathered behind a line of yellow tape.

Up ahead she spotted Leanne and Gail climbing into an ambulance with Nick, whilst Adam and Sarah shared a fierce embrace in the crowd. Jenny and Johnny were flapping their arms, trying to get her attention, and standing next to them was Roy, who was looking at her with a mix of relief and concern.

She broke into a smile upon seeing them. "We made it, Peter. We made it."

She adjusted Peter's arm over her shoulder and began limping towards the crowd.

Suddenly Peter's knees buckled and he went crashing to the cobbles, dragging her down with him.

"Peter?" She cradled him in her arms, trying not to get distracted by the amount of blood on his shirt. There was so much of it. Before it had been a small circle, now almost his entire shirt was covered.

She lovingly stroked his face. "Peter, darlin', stay with me. It's going to be alright."

Tracy ran up behind them. "Peter!"

"Dad!"

Simon pushed his way to the front of the crowd and ducked under the tape. He was quickly apprehended by two officers who escorted him back into the crowd where Ken wrapped a protective arm around him. "We have to wait here."

Two paramedics came running over with a stretcher. They lifted Peter onto it and Carla followed them to the ambulance. As she took her seat beside him in the ambulance, two loud gunshots rang out in quick succession. She looked towards the bistro and the crowd gasped as her brother came stumbling out, clutching his side, before collapsing onto the cobbles.

The last thing she saw was Tracy rushing over to him, screaming his name, then the ambulance doors closed and the vehicle rocked into motion.

The paramedics gathered around the stretcher. "We've got a gunshot wound to the lower abdomen," said one.

"What's his name?" asked the other.

"It's Peter," said Carla, a little dazed. "Peter Barlow."

One of them tried holding an oxygen mask over Peter's mouth but he turned his face away; his eyes sought out Carla as his mouth stammered open and closed in an effort to speak.

Carla gripped his hand. "I'm right here, love."

"Sir, I'm going to need you to let me put the mask on," said the paramedic.

Staring deeply into Carla's eyes, Peter took a deep, raspy breath. "Tell… Simon… I love him."

"You can tell him yourself. You're going to be fine, absolutely fine, do you hear me? But you need to do as she says and put the mask on."

A tear slid down the bridge of his nose. "I … love you."

The paramedic slipped the oxygen mask over Peter's face and Carla watched as his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

"I'm right here," she said tearfully, never letting go of his hand. "I'm right here."

In the waiting room, Johnny and Jenny sat either side of Carla, rubbing her shoulders, asking her if she was alright, if she needed anything, but their words rang like distant echoes. Carla had become withdrawn from everything going on around her. All she could think about was Peter. Today was supposed to be the happiest day of their lives and it had turned into a waking nightmare.

Peter and Rob had been rushed into surgery and there was no telling if they'd make it through the night.

All Carla could do— all anyone could do— was sit and wait for news.

Tracy was sitting across from her. Her pink onesie was charred black and her arm was holed up in a sling. Her head rested on her father's shoulder as absentminded tears streaked down her blackened cheeks.

She looked a right state.

But Carla wasn't one to judge. She dreaded to think what she looked like with her torn dress, frazzled hair and half-baked make-up sliding off her face.

But so what if the dress was ruined? So what if the bistro was a pile of rubble? All that mattered was that Peter and Rob survived this.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again, this family is cursed when it comes to weddings," said Jenny. "Cursed, I tell you!"

Nick and Leanne approached from the corridor. Jenny greeted them with a sympathetic smile.

"The doctor's given me the all-clear so we going to head home," said Nick. "We just wanted to check how Peter's doing. Has there been any news?"

Jenny shook her head. "He's still in surgery."

"You will keep us updated, won't you?" said Leanne. "Our Si's beside himself."

"Of course," said Johnny. "We'll let you know as soon as we hear anything."

Leanne thanked them both. Then she looked at Carla, wanting to say something, but knowing there was nothing she could say that would help the situation. Besides, Carla looked completely out of it. Anything Leanne did say was likely to go right over her head.

Nick sighed at all their glum faces. "This is all just a horrible mess, isn't it?"

The pair left and Jenny's attention returned to Carla. She ran a soothing hand up and down her back. "Is there anything we can get you, love? A cup of coffee? Something to eat to keep your energy up?"

Carla was unresponsive and Johnny looked at his wife to back off. "Give her some space, yeah?"

A sharp hissing noise from across the room snapped Carla out of her thirty-yard stare and she became aware of Tracy glaring at her. "Yeah, that's right, bride of Chucky, I'm talking to you!"

"Tracy, please," Ken begged softly, but she refused to be silenced.

"No, this is all her fault! Just look at her sitting there like the angel of death! Always funeral ready, aren't you, Carla? Then again with the amount of husband's you've buried over the years, I suppose you'd have to be!"

"Hey, watch it," Johnny said, jumping to his daughter's defence. "None of this is Carla's fault."

"Isn't it? Because let's face it, wherever she goes, disaster and chaos follow and people drop like flies! She's worse than the plague!"

"Tracy, that's enough," said Ken.

Tracy pulled away from her father as he attempted to placate her. "It's not enough! My brother and my boyfriend are fighting for their lives and once again she walks away with barely a scratch! I don't know how she does it. The terminator's got nothing on her!"

Things were beginning to get heated and Jenny tried to calm the situation. "Listen Tracy love, I know you're upset, we all are, but let's not take it out on each other, eh?"

Tracy's anger dissolved into tears and her head fell back against her father's shoulder. "I just want them to be okay…"

As Ken brought his arm around her, Jenny sighed sadly. "We all do, love. We all do."

More hours passed until eventually a doctor carrying a clipboard came to speak with them. Everyone stood at his arrival, everyone except Carla.

"You took your sweet time," snapped Tracy. "What's going on? How are they?"

"Mr Barlow is still in surgery but Mr Donovan is awake."

"Awake?" Tracy's chest became lighter as she felt a sudden glimmer of hope. She hadn't been expecting such positive news. "Can I see him?"

"Yes, but I must warn you, he's still in a very critical condition."

"Can I go too?" asked Carla, who had gotten to her feet at hearing the good news about her brother. "Please, I'm his sister."

The doctor reluctantly agreed. "Fine, but only you two for now."

Entering his room, they found him lying in bed, propped up by a pillow. Tracy rushed to his side while Carla lingered back, letting the pair have a moment alone together.

Tracy pulled up a chair and reached for his hand. She gently stroked it as tears of relief poured down her cheeks. "You had us going there for a minute, I thought you were a goner."

Rob, still groggy from surgery, gave a lazy smile. "Can't get rid of me that easy."

It was good to see that despite having taken a bullet to the chest, he hadn't lost his irresistible charm.

He nodded to her arm. "Nice sling."

"It's broken," she said, wriggling her fingers in her cast. "You can be the first to sign it if you like."

"I'd be honoured."

Tracy shook her head at him, torn between slapping him and kissing him. "What were you thinking, playing the hero back there?"

"Well, somebody had to hold Ritchie off so you could get out."

She should be mad at him for not telling her about Ritchie, for landing her in mortal peril, but being mad at him was impossible, especially given the state of him.

He paused, then asked, "Did Ritchie…?"

"He's dead," Tracy told him. "And good riddance too."

"And Peter?"

Tracy looked over her shoulder at Carla. Both women exchanged a nervous glance. Then, turning back to Rob, Tracy said, "He's still in surgery. But he'll be fine, you both will. Tough as old boots, the pair of you."

Rob noticed his sister standing at the back of the room and beckoned her forward. He smiled as she approached the bed. "Hey sis."

"Hey yourself."

"You look like crap," he said as he looked her up and down.

"Yeah? You aren't looking so hot yourself."

His breathing became laboured. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" she asked. "Bringing Ritchie into our lives and endangering us all? Yeah, you should be." She was only half-joking.

He gave a slow shake of his head. "No, not that… Well, yes that…but also for how I've been… with you… all the arguments… the sniping… that stunt with Chloe…" His chest rose with a sharp intake of breath, then he released it. "I was just… trying to look out for you."

Carla softened slightly. "I know."

Everything Rob did, no matter how misguided or immoral, always came from a place of love. Even killing Tina had been a twisted way of protecting her. And that was ultimately the tragic thing about Rob. He always set out with the best of intentions, yet they always ended up getting lost along the way.

He focused back on Tracy and gazed at her adoringly. "I can't wait."

"For what?" she asked, stroking his hand.

"For our cottage down by the sea. We're going love it down there, Trace. Just you, me and Amy… a fresh start…"

Each rise and fall of his chest was getting harder and heavier.

Tracy could see he was struggling and begged him to rest. "Try not to talk."

Giving up the battle against his drooping eyelids, he let them fall shut. "Walks along the beach, watching the sunset, cosying up by the fire…"

"Sounds perfect."

The smallest of smiles lit up his face. "Yeah, perffff…."

His voice trailed off into nothing and his head rolled to the side.

The heart monitor started beeping erratically.

Tracy stared at him, horrified. "Rob? Rob?!"

When he didn't respond, she slammed the emergency button and shouted for a nurse. Within seconds a team of doctors swarmed the bedside and the women were forced to wait outside.

The wait was agonising. Tracy kept peering in through the slatted blinds, desperate to see what was going on, but the wall of surgeons crowding the bed blocked her view.

After what felt like an eternity, a doctor stepped outside of the room to address them. Carla knew immediately by the look on his face what he was about to say. Tracy clutched her heaving chest as she tried to contain her panic. "What's happened? Is he okay? Is he stable?"

"Mr Donovan went into Cardiac arrest. We did everything we could. But I'm afraid we were unable to revive him. I'm so very sorry."

The words had a numbing effect on Carla whose body turned to stone.

However, the surgeon's words didn't seem to register with Tracy. "I'm sorry, I don't… what are you saying?"

"Mr Donovan is dead, I'm very sorry."

"Dead? No…" Tracy shook her head then she went over to the window and pressed her hand up against the glass, trying to see inside.

As the team of surgeons left his bedside, she saw him lying there, pale and lifeless, and the cold reality hit her.

She gave a frightful shiver.

Her hand slid down the glass and her legs gave out from under her. She dropped to the floor with an anguished cry; a sound so raw, so animalistic in nature, Carla didn't think she would ever be able to forget it.

Carla knew she should go and comfort Tracy, but she physically found herself unable to move. She was frozen in place, paralysed with shock.

As more surgeons began filtering out of the room, Carla caught a glimpse of her brother lying motionless on the bed.

The sight of him made her blood run cold and she quickly looked away.

Suddenly the narrow walls of the corridor began closing in and she felt like all the air was being squeezed out of her lungs.

She needed to get out of there.

She left Tracy curled up on the ground and headed outside for some air.

She sat on a bench in the car park. She didn't notice the cold or the rain. A siren wailed in the distance, echoing Tracy's cry. That cry played on a torturous loop in Carla's head.

The world felt wrong. Like it should've stopped. Her brother was dead. Her baby brother, the person who had been with her from the very beginning, who'd grown up with her… was dead.

How could it be?

It didn't feel real. He couldn't be dead. Not Rob.

Something soft and warm was placed over her shoulders. She looked up and there was Roy. He had placed his beige jacket over her bare shoulders to stop her from shivering. "May I join you?" he asked.

She nodded her head and he joined her on the bench, expelling a heavy sigh into the night. They sat in companionable silence as the sounds of sirens and distant traffic whirred in the near distance, until finally, Roy spoke. "I'm sorry about your brother."

The words were like a punch in the gut.

Not trusting herself to speak, Carla nodded her head.

It went quiet again and she became lost in her own thoughts. Guilt tore at her for how she'd treated her brother over the last few weeks. "You know, all we did since he got out of prison was argue. I even offered him money to get rid of him. What kind of a sister does that make me?"

Her feelings towards Rob were messy and complicated. On the one hand she loved him dearly and always would, but she also resented him, was disgusted and ashamed of the things he'd done.

After he got sent down, clients would sometimes ask about him, and rather than tell them the terrible truth about where he was and what he'd done, she'd lie and tell them he was dead.

When he showed up in Ken's backyard, fresh out of prison, the first thought that had entered her head was, 'Oh God, how am I going to get rid of him? How do I make him go away?'

Well, now she had gotten her wish. He was gone and this time he wasn't ever coming back.

Tears threatened to spill as she spoke. "I know he did a terrible thing, killing Tina… but I still… I still loved him."

Roy wasn't a physically affectionate person so it took Carla by great surprise when his arm settled around her and pulled her towards him. It was nice, him hugging her without her having to ask him to do so. She let her weak head rest against his shoulder and she closed her eyes, letting the gentle pitter-patter of rain drown out her senses.

They stayed like that for several minutes, letting the world pass them by, letting the loss sink in, until Roy eventually got to his feet and extended a hand down to her. "Come on, let's go back inside. Peter will be out of surgery soon and he'll need you."

Carla shook her head. She was afraid to go back in case more bad news awaited her.

What if Peter died too? Losing her husband and brother on the same night would surely finish her off…

Husband.

She couldn't even call him that. They'd never even made it up the aisle, let alone said 'I do'…

But hiding out here wouldn't change the outcome of Peter's surgery. She knew that really.

Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she reached for Roy's hand and together they headed back inside.

Carla ignored the pitying looks from Johnny and Jenny as she returned to her seat. The chairs previously occupied by Ken and Tracy were empty. She knew they'd be with Rob, saying goodbye. There was still no news on Peter and Roy went and fetched them all a coffee for the long night ahead.

It had just gone midnight when a consultant came with news on Peter. Johnny nudged his wife awake who had fallen asleep on his shoulder and Carla got to her feet. Her heart was beating so fast she thought she was going to be sick.

"I'm Doctor Barker," the consultant said.

Carla tried to gauge from his expression what he was about to say but his face was unreadable.

"How is he?" she asked.

Doctor Barker looked at the faces before him; he could see they were hanging off his every word.

"Peter's out of surgery," he revealed. "We were able to stop the internal bleeding caused by both the bullet and the alcohol consumption."

Carla didn't rejoice yet. She sensed there was a but coming.

Her hand kneaded her stomach as it clenched painfully.

"However, Peter hasn't come round from the anaesthetic."

Johnny ad Jenny looked at each other in confusion.

"What are you saying?" asked Roy. "What's wrong with him?"

"We're not really sure ourselves," Doctor Barker admitted. "This is a rare occurrence, believe me. I'm afraid while we try to figure out the underlying cause, we've had to put Peter into a medically induced coma."

"A coma?!" Jenny exclaimed, suddenly wide awake. "But this is just a temporary measure, right? He'll wake up… won't he?"

Doctor Barker shrugged his shoulders, wishing he had better news. "I'm afraid at this stage it's impossible to tell. But we're hopeful."

He dipped his head in way of apology before walking off.

Jenny, Johnny and Roy looked at Carla who had once again gone numb.

Carla sat at Peter's bedside, watching the mechanical rise and fall of his chest. She wanted to hold his hand but was afraid to touch anything, so kept her hands tightly clasped in her lap.

Through the slatted blinds, she could see Ken talking with Doctor Barker in the corridor as he was told the news of Peter's condition, and the look of devastation on Ken's face was heart-breaking.

She turned away from the window and focused back on Peter. According to Doctor Barker, some coma patients could hear everything going on around them, and speaking to them not only gave them a source of comfort, but in some cases even improved their chances of waking up.

Carla felt a little daft talking out loud to herself, but if there was even a small chance Peter could hear her, then she had to try.

She dabbed her eyes, forcing herself to sound upbeat. "Hi darlin'…"

She paused and waited for a finger to twitch, for him to blink, to show some sign that he was listening.

But she saw nothing.

Still, she didn't let it deter her. "Sorry it's taken me so long to see you. But I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

A tear slid down her cheek and she wiped it away.

She shook her head in wonderment at the crazy last few hours. "What a day this turned out to be, eh? Not quite what we had planned…"

They should be spending their first night together as husband and wife, but instead…

No. She wouldn't let herself get upset. She needed to be strong, for Peter. Forcing a smile, she continued, "Your surgery went well, they got the bullet out and stopped the internal bleeding… so all we need now is for you to wake up. I need you to wake up, okay?"

She was interrupted by somebody walking in and her head shot to Ken in the doorway. "Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude."

She offered him a tired smile. "It's fine, come in."

He pulled up a chair and lightly touched Peter's arm. "It's me, son."

He looked over at Carla. "Sorry for abandoning you, I had to take Tracy home. I was worried about her being on her own so I stayed with her for a while…"Carla shook her head as if to say, 'Don't be daft', then Ken's gaze returned to his son. "Doctor Barker has filled me in on Peter's situation."

They shared a knowing look, both fully aware of how bleak the situation was.

Ken's fingers lightly traced the tattoo on Peter's arm. "But he'll be fine. He'll pull through this. Us Barlows are made of strong stuff."

An hour passed with them sat silently by his bedside.

Carla yawned and rubbed her eyes that had become heavy and bloodshot from how long she'd been awake.

"You look wiped out," said Ken. "Why don't you go home and get your head down?"

"No, I don't want to leave him."

"I'd only be talking for a few hours, just enough time for you to shower and recharge the batteries. You need rest, love. It's been a long, traumatic day. Go home. I'll watch over Peter."

Carla was reluctant to leave but she knew Peter was in the safest possible hands. Ken wouldn't let anything happen to him in her absence. And like Ken said, it would only be for a few hours.

Johnny and Jenny dropped her off home and walking into the flat she felt a change in the air, an odd loss of familiarity, like that feeling you get returning after a long time away.

She hated the emptiness. There was no Sadie to run and greet her at the door, no Bertie making noises on the baby monitor, and most painfully of all, no Peter…

There were reminders of him everywhere; pictures of the two of them together lined the sideboard, there was a packet of cigarettes on the counter, and his leather jacket was hanging on the back of the door.

She caught sight of herself in the mirror and nearly jumped out of her skin. She didn't far off resemble the girl from The Ring.

That's when she noticed a letter on the table. She wandered over to it. She recognised Peter's handwriting straight away and cast her eyes over it. It was full of crossing outs.

Wedding speech:

Carla Connor… where do I begin? Wow, what a woman. I don't know what I did to deserve you. You might be the bossiest, stroppiest, most infuriating woman on the planet - who's also a bit of a control freak with a serious shoe shopping addiction – but hey, nobody's perfect.

Did I also mention the fact you're absolutely gorgeous? The first time I saw you, you took my breath away. You've got this smile that lights up a room and the dirtiest giggle that warms my soul every time I hear it.

I know you pride yourself on being a stone-cold bitch, but underneath that icy exterior is the biggest heart, and I consider myself one of the lucky few who gets to see it.

I know I've not always treated you right. There have been times when I've taken you for granted and not put you first when I really should have. And for that, all I can say is sorry. But despite all my mistakes, and there have been many, you gave us a second chance, because you knew deep down that what we had was worth fighting for.

Some people say we're a car crash, and sure, we're not perfect, we don't always get it right. But the important thing is we try, and that we keep trying. So here's my promise to you... From this day forward, no matter what life throws at us, whatever hardships we face, I won't stop trying… to be a better man, to be the husband you deserve. Because, as sickeningly cliché as it sounds... I love you. Always have, always will.

Carla scrunched the piece of paper into a ball and threw it across the room in a fit of rage before dropping her head onto the table and dissolving into a sea of tears.

She'd stayed strong all day but now she was alone, the gravity of the day's events hit her properly for the first time and the tears were coming in an unstoppable flow.

Everything just felt so hopeless.

Slipping off her wedding dress, she took a scalding shower, scrubbing at her skin to rid it of ash and soot, before dragging her aching body into bed. The space beside her where Peter should have been was cold and empty. The ghost of his scent lingered on his pillow and she hugged it close to her chest, inhaling it deeply, pretending it was him she was holding onto, and closed her eyes, letting the exhaustion take over.

Author's note: So that's all four parts of the wedding chapters completed, I wanted to get them out to you as quickly as possible. Just a heads up, it might be a little while before my next update is out as I need a little break, but hopefully it won't be too long!

Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, please keep 'em coming. Hearing your thoughts and feedback is what makes it all worth it to me.

Also, good luck to anyone getting their results today.

Until the next time! :)