As always, I'm so happy that you're all enjoying this fic. I have no plan for it at all so I'm really just making things up as I go along. I decided to bring the current Peter storyline into it though the focus is going to stay as Carla's pregnancy, just with undertones of Peter's issues.

The bad news is that I'm currently stuck at home with Covid, I'm hoping that this isn't going to affect the quality of what I write but annoyingly I'm spending 75% of the day completely exhausted. The good news is that I have nothing to do but write and read at the moment so will probably update all of my fics this week!

Keep safe everyone!

Carla had found that 'morning sickness' was the most unfair false advertising that she'd ever come across. She was experiencing constant bouts of nausea morning through night, and some days she struggled to even make it out of bed to move to the living room sofa. That day, she'd somehow managed to drag herself into the shower and had caked on a few layers of foundation and mascara in an attempt to hide the tiredness in her face, needing to escape the endless fussing from Jenny, who presumed that Carla was ill as she'd long forgotten her New Years' slip up in her inebriated state. Carla had scraped her hair back into a loose ponytail to stop strands of hair sticking to her clammy skin, and had thrown on a loose blue t-shirt with a pair of leggings, securing her black fur coat over her barely-showing stomach. She'd only been attempting a quick walk to the corner shop to stock up on ginger nuts, which were the only thing getting her through, and was praying that she wouldn't come across anyone she knew on route. Unfortunately, luck was not on her side that day, as on stepping out of the front door of the Rovers, she walked straight into the path of Adam Barlow, who hesitated on seeing her as though he was considering crossing the road to avoid her.

"Chill out, Adam," Carla snapped, pulling some strands of hair out of her ponytail to let them fall across her face in an attempt to conceal the minor breakout that currently plagued the skin of her forehead, "I'm sure we can cross each other in the street without anyone thinking we're going to jump each other's bones."

"Very sarcastic for a woman who should be hanging her head in shame," Adam retorted, causing Carla to narrow her eyes at him in disdain.

"Sorry, forgot you were the completely innocent party in this. Whiter than white," Carla scoffed, folding her arms boldly across her chest in a show of contempt, "Get off your high horse, Adam." She stepped out onto the cobbles to walk around him, tiring very quickly of the spiteful conversation, but was stopped dead in her tracks as he took hold of her folded arm, which she glared down at, scornfully.

"Have you seen Peter?" Adam's expression quickly changed to one of concern, "He wasn't in his room this morning. And he wasn't home when I went to bed last night." Carla felt as though her heart had dropped into her stomach, familiar fears flooding her mind; images of Peter's almost lifeless body slumped in a dark alleyway, thoughts of him lying in a hospital bed fighting for his life.

"Why would I have seen Peter? I'm hardly flavor of the month…" she replied, not wanting to reveal the truce she'd called with Peter for fear of their shared secret becoming public knowledge.

Meanwhile, Peter was cheerfully striding down Viaduct Street in the direction of the corner shop. He'd had a spring in his step ever since finding out Carla's news. Even though they weren't together, and the thoughts of the love of his life and his nephew together still plagued his mind, the idea of having created a little person who was half him and half his beloved was a thought that made him very happy. He had kept his distance from her since New Years Eve, both of them needing time to process the news, but he planned to visit her later that day to see what he could do to help her. Having spoken to Johnny a couple of days prior, he knew that pregnancy hadn't been treating her well. That morning, he'd woken up bright and early and had fancied an early walk around the Red Rec, so he'd slipped out of the house before any of his family had started to pester him – he'd really been struggling to explain away his sudden change in mood. As he rounded the corner onto Coronation Street, he subconsciously glanced over to the pub, where he presumed Carla would still be tucked up soundly in bed. And that's when he saw her – and him – there in the street for all the world to see. Adam clinging onto her arm, Carla giving him that stern, fiercely passionate look that she usually reserved for him alone. And the sight of the two of them together, skin on skin, made him feel like he was going to vomit right then and there in the middle of the street. His skin seared hot, his fists clenching by his side. She was talking animatedly; he looked concerned. Had she told him? Had Peter stumbled across a moment between them similar to the one he'd shared with her on New Years Eve, both of them imagining what their child would could like? He suddenly felt a need to be anywhere but in that street, and with a substantial amount of alcohol coursing through his veins. So he turned sharply and stalked away in the direction of the nearest off-licence with an shopkeeper who wouldn't know his face.

Everything around her was a blur; the doctors, the nurses, patients being wheeled beside her, voices asking her to move out of the way, everything in the hospital ward just morphed into one, and the only thing that Carla could think about in that moment was forcing her feet to move in the direction of the room she'd been told he was in. Thoughts of the worst possible scenario played in her mind over and over like a horror movie she didn't want to watch but couldn't switch off. Ken had been very vague on the call, as though he hadn't wanted to inform her but had felt an obligation to do so. The corridor leading to the Resus ward seemed to be endless, just continuous doors that Carla was having to push her way through, until finally she was met with the sad, serious faces of Peter's family, Ken and Daniel, Ken sat staring straight ahead and Daniel pacing up and down the corridor, wringing his hands in front of him.

"Carla…" Ken said, sympathetically, rising to his feet as she entered the room. Daniel too moved in front of her, almost as if he was shielding her from the window to the room that Peter would be in.

"How is he? Can we see him?" Carla asked quickly, trying to get a glance of Peter over Daniel's shoulder, worry and fear etched across her flawless features. Ken held onto her arms with both of his hands, giving her a small, reassuring smile that Carla was sure he was forcing for her benefit.

"He's conscious. He's… He's okay at the moment, but the doctors are taking him down for surgery shortly."

"Surg…?" Carla's question was cut short as she felt her voice falter, letting out a sob from deep in her throat, covering her mouth with her fingertips. Her eyes filled with tears as she caught sight of Peter through the window, though clearly alive and talking, looking drained and sallow, his skin a sickening shade of yellow and his eyes brimmed red. "What happened?"

"I found him passed out on Rosamund Street, he'd been chucking up blood and had-"

"Daniel…" Ken said warningly, giving his son a stern look, "Peter might not want us divulging his business to the world."

"I'm hardly the world, Ken. He's my world…" Looking past Ken and instead at Daniel, who seemed to be unable to meet her eyes, though Carla didn't know if this was to try to avoid blurting out the truth or whether he was so disgusted by what she'd done to his brother that he couldn't bring himself to look at her. "Daniel… Please tell me, had he been drinking?" Daniel slowly lifted his head, at which point Carla was able to see that his eyes were red and bloodshot from where he'd obviously been crying. She felt sorry for him in that moment, knowing from experience how rough it was to be around Peter during one of his relapses. Daniel didn't answer, but his silence spoke for him, and Carla couldn't prevent the tears that had been brewing from spilling down her cheeks, which she quickly wiped away. She looked back to Ken. "Can I go and see him?" Ken sighed, giving a cautious look over his shoulder at his wounded son.

"He was asking after you when he came round," Ken informed her, escorting her to the door of Peter's room, knocking softly on the door to alert the doctor and nurse inside to the arrival. "Peter, you've got a visitor." On seeing her stood hovering in the doorway, heartbreakingly beautiful despite her tearstained cheeks and worried expression, Peter breathed a sigh of relief. He'd been terrified of being taken down to theatre before he'd had a chance to speak to her, just in case the worst had happened and he hadn't seen her first.

"Can we have two minutes?" he pleaded. The doctor nodded, and swiftly left the room, the nurse trailing behind him. Ken, too, followed suit, leaving Carla and Peter alone. Carla didn't step any further into the room, instead loitering near to the door, trying to absorb the wires hooked up to his body and the steady beeping of machinery surrounding him. Peter gave a chuckle. "I won't blow up if you come closer." Warily, Carla moved towards him, stopping a couple of feet away. She took a deep breath to calm her voice before speaking.

"Why were you drinking?" she asked bluntly. Peter sighed, glancing quickly over to his family members on the other side of the window.

"My lot and their big mouths."

"Was it because of…?" Carla trailed off, knowing that she didn't need to finish her sentence as Peter would know exactly what she was referring to, her hand automatically resting on her stomach as it did whenever she thought of what was happening inside her body. "That's why I was scared to tell you."

"Carla…" Peter whispered, his eyes suddenly wide and filled with sorrow, with guilt, "Of course it wasn't. How can you even think that?"

"It's what happened last time."

"Last time was very different. That baby is the one good thing I've got in my life right now…" He hesitated, feeling incredibly stupid for his latest excuse for his relapse. "I saw you in the street with Adam this morning." Carla's face fell, and she suddenly felt as though her stomach was twisting, feeling sick at the thought of being the source of what had tipped Peter over the edge, again.

"Peter, we were just talking, he was worried about you. I'm not… There's nothing going on with me and Adam, it's finished," she assured him, her voice trembling once again.

"I know… I know…" Sadly, Peter lifted his weak, heavy arm and held out an open palm to her, which Carla instantly filled with her own hand, gripping his tightly. "I was being stupid and sensitive. He just brings out a bad side of me, where you're concerned."

"What have the doctors said?" Peter hesitated before answering her question, for a moment considering telling her only a half-truth to protect her but finding that the pain in her eyes coaxed the full story out of him.

"My liver's packed up. It's about time, I suppose." He tried to make jest of the harsh reality of his situation by shooting her a sad smile. "They're saying it's failing. But I don't want you to worry about me, I want you to focus on keeping that baby strong and healthy."

"And what about this surgery today?"

"It's just a standard procedure. I've got things called varices from all the drinking, and they're worried they might have ruptured. It's nothing to worry about; I'll be fine."

"Of course it's something to worry about…" Carla whispered, her eyes glazing over with tears once again as she gave Peter's hand a tight squeeze, "They don't take you into surgery if there's nothing to worry about." They were suddenly interrupted by a sharp knock on the room door.

"Mr Barlow, we need to get you down to surgery now," the nurse announced, moving to Peter's side and starting to unhook the various wires from the wall. Peter gripped Carla's hand as tightly as he could muster.

"Stop stressing. I'll be fine," he assured her. Reluctantly, Carla backed away from him as yet another nurse appeared at his side, her heart sinking as she dropped his hand from her grasp and tore her eyes from his withered form. Stepping out of the room, she joined Ken at the window and watched as the nurses busied themselves around him.

"Is he downplaying it for my benefit?" she asked. Ken gave a weary sigh.

"You know Peter as well as I do, better, in fact. He doesn't like to worry the people he cares about, he'd rather take himself off and deal with things on his own." A sudden bout of nausea flooded Carla's body and her stomach seemed to twist again, sending a shooting pain from her groin and all the way up to her chest. She sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth and clutched at her stomach, which made Ken frown at her in concern. "Carla? Are you alright?" Carla moved away from the glass and turned her back on him, urging the pain and the sick feeling to fade away, which it gradually did.

"Yeah… I'm fine…" she murmured, soothingly running her thumb across her lower stomach through her clothing, not wanting to give herself away. She knew from experience that stress during pregnancy could have heartbreaking consequences, but seeing Peter so ill because of her made her incapable of feeling anything other than fear.