Nothing wrong with celebrating New Years Eve on 8th January, so grab a glass of champers! I'm honestly overwhelmed at the response to this fic, thank you so much.

I hope this lives up to what you were hoping for x

As the clocked ticked closer to midnight and a brand new year that would hopefully bring with it less emotional trauma than the last, the pub was filled with laughter, music and glittery outfits. It was packed, like half the street was piled into the booths. A drunken Jenny was propped up at the bar with her sixth glass of white wine, with Johnny holding the fort behind it. As 'Girls Just Wanna Have Fun' blared through the speakers, Jenny cheered and began to sway from side to side, bobbing her head in time with the music. When she noticed Carla slip through the front door of the pub and head in their direction, she began waving frantically.

"Car-la!" she sung merrily, "We were worried you wouldn't make it!"

"I was round our Ryan's just wishing him a Happy New Year and dropping his Christmas card in, they're having a quiet one at theirs with Yasmeen," Carla explained, giving Jenny a small, tentative smile, "How much have you had?" Jenny snorted loudly.

"Not enough. I'm stilllll waiting on a refill!" she slurred, tipping her glass towards Johnny and causing some of the contents to slosh over the side and onto the bar.

"Your glass is half-full, love," Johnny chuckled in response with a small shake of his head. Carla suddenly jolted as she heard an all-too familiar laugh coming from behind her, from the booth closest to the door. Glancing over her shoulder, she found herself catching locking eyes with Peter Barlow, his smile fading at the sight of her. He took a sip of his orange juice, keeping his gaze on hers and causing a million different emotions to swirl in her core. It prompted a physical pain in her chest, an aching that seemed to build at the constant reminder that Peter didn't love her anymore. As much as she didn't want to be the first to look away, she had a new, secret reason to keep her stress levels low, so she reluctantly dropped her gaze, though she was sure she could still feel his eyes on her as she turned back to Johnny, who was instantly able to see the worry in her expression. He sighed. "Ken assures me he's not touched a drop, and I told him if there are any issues at all, he's out. But if you don't want him here-…"

"No," Carla replied quickly, taking another quick look over her shoulder and, surprised to see Peter still watching her, hastily turning her back on him again, "No, he's fine. I was the one in the wrong, wasn't I?"

"You need a drink," Jenny decided, throwing her arm around Carla's shoulder, "Johnny – get the girl a glass of proskec-… prossect-… Oh, wine will do!"

"No, honestly Jenny, I'm fine," Carla assured her, carefully removing Jenny's arm from her neck. Jenny blinked at her, looking offended.

"But it's New Year. You have to have a drink on New Year, it's tradition."

"I'm not thirsty."

"But you didn't drink at Crimbo either! Who're you? And what've you done with Carla Connor?" Jenny stammered, laughing at her own comment before suddenly letting out a loud gasp and pointing directly at Carla, "'Ey! You're not preggers, are you?! Ooh, Johnny, could you imagine-…" Panicked, Carla glancing around at the punters in the pub, relieved that they appeared to be more interested in their own conversations than her own – but then her eyes met his again, and she saw the look of confusion, of curiosity, etched across his features.

"I'm going out back," she mumbled, quickly slipping past Jenny and disappearing into the back room of the pub. Jenny was completely oblivious that anything was amiss, but Johnny watched his daughter leave with concern, wanting to follow her to make sure she was okay but knowing that she would berate him for causing a scene.

"Johnny." Peter was suddenly at the bar, moving behind it despite Johnny trying to block his path. "I need to speak to Carla."

"Can't it wait? She doesn't need the stress."

"No, it can't. It's important. Look, I'm completely sober, I'm not here to give her grief," Peter insisted almost pleadingly. Johnny sighed, reluctantly leading him through to the living room and first giving a little tap at the closed door before pushing it open slightly. Carla was inside and was pacing back and forth across the living room floor. She knew Peter too well to think that he'd drop the subject after the scene he'd just witnessed. He'd interrogate her and hover around suspiciously until she broke and gave him the answer that he was looking for. And Carla wasn't ready to blow his world apart again for the second time in a month.

"Carla, Peter wants a word. If you want me to tell him to clear off, I will," Johnny informed her. Carla sighed, stopping still and letting her eyelids flutter shut. She would only cause more problems by refusing to speak to him.

"It's fine, let him in."

"If you need me, you know where I am." Reluctantly, Johnny let Peter into the room and, after giving Carla a small, reassuring smile, pulled the door closed behind him. Being alone in the same room as her ex – and the love of her life – proved to be more of a struggle than Carla had thought, and it pained her to raise her head and look him in his deep brown, familiar eyes. But she did it anyway. The pair were silent for a moment, Peter watching Carla intently, trying to read her expression. Eventually, he cut through the quiet with his question, like the sudden slice of a knife.

"Is it true?"

"Is what true?" Carla retorted quickly, subconsciously crossing her arms across her chest to cover her flat stomach.

"You know what. What Jenny said in the bar, is it true?"

"Jenny says a lot of things when she's drunk."

"Carla," Peter breathed, taking a few small steps towards her. Carla initially shied away from him and took a couple back, however, she soon found herself unable to move anymore, transfixed by his gaze as the space between them started to close. He had always had that effect on her, a hypnotizing attraction that she just couldn't bring herself to look away from. "We've been to hell and back the last few weeks. I need you to start being honest with me now. You know I can tell when you're lying… And when you're scared. Is it true? Are you pregnant?" Carla realised that she was holding her breath and gradually released it. She gave a very slow, hesitant nod.

"… Yeah. I don't… I don't know how far along." At first, the corners of Peter's lips twitched into a small smile, which Carla gratefully returned, her body relaxing in relief.

"Carla, that's… That's brilliant," Peter whispered. Then, as if he was hit by a sudden bitter realization, his smile fell and his eyes glazed over. "It's Adam's, isn't it? That's why you didn't want to tell me."

"I… I don't know," Carla admitted softly, "I didn't tell you because… Well, look what happened last time. The idea of me and you having a baby tipped you over the edge-"

"Except this time it might not be me and you having a baby."

"Peter, don't say that. I want this baby to be yours, more than anything. But I don't have answers for you. I barely know how I feel, or what I'm thinking – I'm scared, Peter, scared that something's going to go wrong again, it's even riskier than it was years ago. I didn't even think I could get pregnant now, I thought I was past it. But it's happened." Cautiously, she touched his arm, and was relieved when he didn't move away. She could read the confliction in his face, could see him struggling to push past the doubts and the worries that tormented him. "Please don't see this as a reason to drink." Peter scoffed.

"Trust me, I don't need a reason to drink these days. I pour myself a whiskey to celebrate the ad breaks on 'Good Morning Britain'."

"It's not funny."

"I'm not laughing. Carla, I don't know what to think. I don't think I will until we know what the chances are," he confessed, moving his arm so that her hand dropped and fell to her side.

"Peter, please…" Carla murmured, her voice breaking in frustration as she felt betraying tears fill her eyes, and she tried not to blink to prevent them from cascading down her cheeks, "I know you hate me, okay? I deserve it. But this baby… If this baby's yours, and I hope to god that it is, it deserves to be loved. Please… Love this baby, even if you don't love me."

"Of course I love you," Peter responded automatically, "I'm never going to stop loving you, Carla."

"But you said-"

"I know what I said. I was angry." He took a step closer to her and brushed away the tear that had escaped with the pad of his thumb, letting it linger on her cheek. "Just because I can't be with you doesn't mean I can just turn it off. I love you more than anyone else in this world. And the same goes for this baby, if…" He trailed off, leaving the heartbreaking words unspoken. "I might not be able to be your boyfriend, but I can still be the baby's dad. I'll support you every step of the way."

"And you won't drink?"

"Don't push it. I'm trying," he teased morbidly. Carla couldn't hold back her tears any longer, letting out a pent-up sob.

"Peter, I'm so sorry."

"Let's not do this now, 'ey?"

"Ten!" Neither flinched as they heard the loud ruckus begin from next door, each only really aware of how they even seemed to breathe as one, their bodies completely in sync.

"Nine!... Eight!"

Peter let his hand fall from where it still cupped her face, instead bringing it to rest with his palm flat against her flat stomach. He drew in a deep breath, imagining the baby, his baby, growing inside.

"Seven!... Six!... Five!"

He drew in closer to her, their bodies almost touching.

"Four!... Three!"

Carla glanced nervously up at him from beneath her dark eyelashes and saw that he was smiling back down at her, so she too returned this with a small, tender smile of her own.

"Two!... One!"

Peter dropped his head to rest his forehead against hers, taking a few moments to just allow the pain and trauma of the last few weeks, the images that seemed to be permanently seared into his brain, to just ebb away, instead focusing on the thought of him and Carla and a little baby that would be the perfect mix of the two of them, that he would love with all his heart regardless of the tatters that were left of their relationship.

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!" As party poppers and cheers sounded from the bar, a loud, cheerful tune blaring through the speakers and causing the walls surrounding them to tremble, Carla and Peter were scarcely aware of the changing of the year, both deep in the thought of the images of what lay ahead for them. Fireworks began to explode from the other side of the ginnel, filling the back room with red, green and white light.

"Happy New Year…" Peter whispered, breaking their own personal silence amidst the chaos of celebration, "To both of you." Carla breathed in slowly, then breathed out.

"Happy New Year, Peter Barlow…"

I was initially going to leave this fic here as a three-parter, but if you guys are wanting more, I am happy to oblige! :)