Hi all!

Featuring a special guest appearance from everybody's favourite character!

As always, thank you so much for your lovely reviews, I'm very grateful!

Hope you enjoy :) x

Carla's eyes flicked between the various posters and advertisements pinned up on the noticeboards of Rosamund Street Medical Centre, finding herself subconsciously chewing on her thumbnail out of nervousness. There were information leaflets for osteoporosis, rheumatoid arthritis and the menopause, all of which would have been more likely reasons for her to be sat in the waiting room than the miracle baby growing speedily inside her. After a week spent with Jenny feeding her the continuous 'pointers' about pregnancy for older women which she'd delighted in finding on the internet, Carla had started to grow worried that it would be too much for her aging body to handle. And that worry had intensified since Peter had failed to meet her at the Rovers at the time they'd agreed. Johnny had offered to attend the appointment with her for moral support, but Carla had bravely denied him, which she bitterly regretted now that she was sat in silence with her thoughts plagued with the worst possible scenarios. Her head flicked up as the door to the treatment room creaked open and a warm, smiling Dr Gaddas poked her head into the waiting room.

"Carla Connor?" Carla slowly got to her feet and gave herself a few seconds to steady her eternally dizzy mind before taking apprehensive steps towards the room.

"Carla, wait!" came a familiar voice from behind her. Carla span around, her face lighting up, to greet Peter, though her smile quickly fell when she noticed his condition. He was hobbling towards her as if in severe pain, his skin tinged with a yellowy shade, beads of sweat dripping down the side of his face and glistening on his forehead. She was shocked to see how ill he'd become and how much he'd deteriorated in the few days since she'd last seen him.

"Peter…" she breathed, her stomach knotting at the sight of him, a lump of guilt forming in her throat. She still blamed herself entirely for the way he'd become. "Are you alright?!"

"I'm fine," Peter insisted, "I'm sorry I'm late, I… I slept through all my alarms."

"You look awful."

"Charming," he teased, giving a swift wink of one of his bloodshot eyes, "You look incredible." Carla allowed a very small, pained smile to form on her lips as Peter slipped an arm around her waist and guided her towards Dr Gaddas's room, her heart sinking as she felt how clammy yet cold his skin was.

"Fortunately, the immunosuppressants that you're taking aren't known to have a negative impact during pregnancy, however, I am going to lower your dosage slightly and perform regular reviews. As much as we're trying to keep baby healthy, it's also important to keep an eye on Mum, as there is always a small but possible chance of organ rejection during pregnancy, hence why I'm not going to suggest you stop taking your medication completely." Dr Gaddas gave Carla a small, reassuring smile, not wanting her to worry and risk causing undue stress to herself and the baby. "But don't panic. We're just trying to play catch-up at the moment. Ideally, we like to see transplant recipients who are planning a family months before conception so we can start the medication adjustment early, but I'm aware that this was a bit of a shock for the both of you."

"You can say that again," Carla replied with a slight laugh, "There wasn't any 'planning' involved."

"A healthy pregnancy at your age and taking into account your medical condition is perfectly possible, you and the baby will just require closer monitoring than if you were twenty years younger. One thing I do need to warn you about is the chance of a premature birth. Transplant recipients are three times more likely than the general population to have a baby which is premature or of a low birth rate. As I said, we'll keep a close eye on you throughout your pregnancy, but you'll need to be more prepared for that eventuality than most people."

"So you mean the baby's going to be here early? How early?" Peter asked. He subconsciously reached over to Carla's lap and felt for her hand, which Carla gripped on to gratefully, lacing her fingers with his. Despite not being together, it was a gesture that was so comfortable and familiar to them both. "Could it… Could it have problems off the back of that?"

"A premature birth is anything prior to 37 weeks, at which point there's every chance that your baby will be absolutely fine," Dr Gaddas explained, calmly, "The earlier baby decides to make an appearance, the likelier further health problems are, so you'll need to look after yourself and your body. Now, the other thing that I want to talk about given your previous medical history is steps that we should put in place postpartum to protect your mental health after you've given birth." Carla frowned, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

"What do you mean?" she queried, "I was ill two years ago, I'm fine now, I've been off my meds for months."

"You are in the higher risk category for developing an illness called postpartum psychosis, which would likely mirror the symptoms of your previous psychotic episode. There is a one in five chance of it occurring due to your past mental health problems, which is increased again if your mother or a sister has had the illness."

"I wouldn't have a clue if my mum had it. She was nuts at the best of times."

"Regardless, I think it's wise if I refer you to a perinatal mental health service who can provide specialist support to you both during and after your pregnancy. Carla, I don't want you to think that because you have been ill before, you will automatically become ill again. Plenty of mothers who have experienced psychosis in the past, and even those who have bipolar disorder, which has a strong link to postpartum psychosis, have found that their mental health has not suffered as a result of childbirth."

"But it could happen?" Carla suddenly felt her usual bout of nausea filtering into her stomach. She had very few memories of the months she had spent in a whirlwind of psychosis and paranoia, but those that she did have filled her with sheer terror at the thought of facing a similar fate again. It had taken every ounce of strength she'd had in her to fight a battle with her mind last time around, and that had been with Peter infallibly at her side; she didn't know if she'd be able to do it again. Dr Gaddas nodded, grimly.

"It could happen to any new mother, but you're at a higher risk. I'll put that referral in… Try not to worry about anything we've discussed today. If you've got any questions, you can ask your midwife at your twelve week scan." Carla slowly rose to her feet, glad that Peter didn't drop the grasp he had on her trembling hand as they thanked Dr Gaddas and made their way back through to the waiting room. She continued to walk straight to the door leading out of the medical centre in a complete daze, desperate to feel the cool January air against her skin, to let it fill her lungs and allow her to breathe properly again. Once safely outside the surgery, she stood still and leant forward, placing her hands on her thighs and drawing in a deep breath, fighting against the tears that started to fill her eyes.

"Hey…" Peter murmured from beside her, running a comforting hand across her back in soothing circles, "You heard what Dr Gaddas said. Try not to stress-"

"Try not to stress?!" Carla exclaimed, standing up straight again and turning to Peter with panicked, watery eyes, "I've just been told I'm likely to go loopy again, and this time I'm going to be on my own with a baby as well!"

"You're not going to be on your own…" Peter replied automatically, moving towards her and cupping her face with his hands so that he could look her dead in the eyes, "Carla, we're in this together, you and me. I know the signs this time, we're prepared for it. It won't be like it was before."

"You don't know that."

"I know you. I know how strong you are, I know you'll be able to get through anything, especially now you've got that little baby to fight for." As a tear escaped from her eyes and slipped down her cheek, Peter quickly wiped it away, brushing the pad of his thumb across her cheekbone. "Come back to mine. We can… Talk." Carla hesitated. As much as raking over the finer, worrying details of their appointment wasn't an appealing prospect, neither was the thought of sitting at home alone while Johnny and Jenny worked to stew over what had been said. Slowly, she let her lips curve upwards into a tight smile, and she gave a nod of her head in reluctant agreement. Peter once again slipped his hand affectionately into hers, and the pair walked side by side to Peter's home.

Nobody else was at the Barlow household when they returned, but regardless they'd hidden themselves away in Peter's bedroom, both drained from their day already despite the early hour. They had curled up on Peter's bed on top of the duvet, Carla's head resting on Peter's shoulder, her arm draped lazily across his stomach. Peter's own arm was tucked underneath Carla's slim form, his fingers tracing soothing patterns up and down her arm. Carla's mind was a whirlwind of panic at the thought of her possible return to her psychotic state, but Peter, in spite of his cold sweats and trembling body, was doing everything he could to convince her that she and their baby would be fine. Their position felt comfortable; familiar. Together or not, they both had a natural instinct to care for and provide affection to the other, something which had only magnified since Carla had found out that she was carrying his child.

"I'm really scared…" Carla admitted. She'd learnt over the years that Peter was the one person who she was able to let her guard down in front of. "I'm scared I'm going to go doolally again, and that I'm going to be dangerous… I mean, look at last time, I couldn't fry bacon without supervision, let alone care for a baby."

"I'm not going to let that happen," Peter assured her, moving his hand upwards and instead switching to running his fingers through her long, dark hair, massaging her scalp.

"You won't have a choice, it's… It's completely overpowering."

"But I'd know this time, I'd recognize the signs and be able to get you some help before it got out of control. I'm not going to abandon you, Carla. I'm going to be with you every step of the way."

"Will you, though?" Carla mumbled more to herself than to him, her chest aching with guilt as the ever-present possibility that she tried to ignore seeped into her mind. What would happen if the baby turned out to be Adam's? If Peter quite understandably walked away from them, if Adam didn't want to know and she was left alone holding the baby? Sure, she'd have Johnny and Jenny for support, but Jenny was so focused on the pub, and Johnny's MS was a constant threat that could start to deteriorate at any time. If she became ill again, she'd be leaving the baby with nobody, and having raised herself and her brother without proper parents on the scene, it was a thought that filled her with dread. Under no circumstances did she want her child to be faced with the kind of early life she'd had. Peter slid his free hand underneath Carla's chin and used his index finger to coax her head up to look at him, so that she was able to see the honesty and promise behind his eyes as he answered her rhetorical question.

"Yes, I will. I'm not going anywhere," he assured her, softly, "That's a promise." For the first time since leaving the medical centre, Carla allowed herself to smile back at him, comforted instantly by the warmth and security within his chocolate eyes. Being around him made her feel safe, and loved, and able to take on the world. And then her eyes fell to his lips, the lips that she'd spent too much of her life longing to kiss, the years that they'd been apart feeling stolen, like time wasted that she could have spent with those lips pressed against her soft skin. She felt an undeniable spark between them, like fire, and wondered what would happen if she closed the gap between them, if she slotted those lips between her own and kissed him like they were the only two people who existed in the world. Sadly, she didn't get the opportunity to find out, as Peter's expression suddenly turned sour, and he rolled away from her, grabbing some tissues from the box on the bedside table.

"Peter…?" Carla pushed herself onto her knees beside him so that she could see him, grabbing his shoulder in panic as he gave three deep, almost retching-like coughs, covering his mouth with the tissues. As he lowered them, she saw that they were drenched with blood, and she tightened her grip on him, her nails digging into his skin. "Oh my god…"

"It's fine…"

"It's not flamin' fine!" Carla exclaimed, leaning over him and placing the back of her hand against Peter's damp forehead. He groaned. "Peter, you're burning! You've got a temperature!"

"I had another seizure this morning…" Peter admitted. Slowly, Carla released her grip on him and sat back in a state of shock, her green eyes growing wide at his confession.

"Sorry… What do you mean 'another seizure'? And why haven't you been to the hospital?!"

"I didn't want to miss your appointment…" he mumbled, "I wanted to be there for you. But they really take it out of me, that's why I was late earlier."

"You didn't answer the first question – since when have you been having seizures?!"

"… I had one last week. And I went to the hospital last time, there was nowt they could do. It's withdrawal."

"Why the hell didn't you tell me?!" Carla yelled, leaping to her feet and ignoring the usual giddy feeling that she experienced whenever she tried to move too quickly, glaring at him in a mixture of fear and betrayal.

"You'd had that funny turn at the factory the day before, I didn't want to cause you any more undue stress-"

"Undue stress?! Peter, this isn't a new deal at the factory, this is you potentially dying and not bothering to drop me a memo!" She ran her fingers through the parting of her hair in exasperation before swiftly making a decision. "We need to get you to the hospital."

"I'm fine – Dr Gaddas said for you to try to avoid driving anyway… Carla!" Peter called after her retreating back as she shot out of the bedroom. With a sigh, he slowly pushed himself onto his feet, cringing at the ache in his joints, the weakness of his muscles making him significantly slower than her as he shuffled out of the room and watched her bolt down the stairs, grabbing her jacket from the hook by the front door as she passed. "Carla, please-"

"This isn't optional, Peter," Carla told him firmly, her voice cracking significantly as she felt a bubble of fear deep within her and a lump forming her throat, "I can't have you flippin' dying on me."

"I'm not going to die – not yet, anyway," Peter assured her as he reached the bottom of the stairs. As Carla tried to brush past him in a desperate hunt for her boots, he stopped her by gently grabbing her shoulders, forcing her to look at him with her tear-filled eyes and trembling lower lip. "I'm got too much to live for now." Carla chewed on the corner of her lip for a second to try to force herself to regain control of her emotions.

"Just let them check you over at the hospital. I can't believe you didn't go this morning, or at least straight after the appointment."

"I had to look after you… And you're not driving me, I'll get a cab. And you're not coming."

"Oh, don't be a martyr, Peter."

"I mean it. You've had a shock today, and don't think I don't know that you feel like you're gonna chuck up every time you try to move because I can see it on your face, you need to go home and rest."

"I can't let you go on your own, what if you have another-" Carla's rant was interrupted by the turning of a key in the lock of the front door, which was then slowly pushed open, revealing the worst possible person on the other side. Carla forced a very strained smile. "Adam. Hi."

"Oh, sorry. I didn't know you'd both be here…" Adam replied awkwardly as he stepped into the house, looking between the pair, and then raising his chin to try to see beyond them, "I was looking for Grandad." Pressing her lips together, Carla shot Peter a defiant look, which Peter responded to with a hoarse groan.

"Carla, no," he warned her, but Carla ignored him as she turned instead to Adam.

"Adam, do us a favor, will you? Run this one to the hospital, and make sure he actually goes in and doesn't do a runner."

"I don't need a babysitter!" Peter retorted indignantly, but his pleas fell on deaf ears as Adam, after taking one proper look at his uncle's condition, firmly nodded his head.

"My car's out the front," he said, stepping back out of the door so that Peter could pass him, but Peter didn't move, instead shooting Carla a furious glare.

"Of all the people…"

"Peter, please, just do it for me and…" Hand falling to rest on her stomach, Carla stopped herself quickly, glancing over at Adam and feeling relieved that he hadn't seemed to have latched onto her remark, "Do it for me." Peter allowed his eyes to roam down Carla's body and to her stomach, and the thought of what was growing inside seemed to be enough to convince him to push his pride aside. He slipped on his trainers which were set by the front door and gave Carla one last look over his shoulder, not wanting to tear his eyes from her.

"I'll text you," he promised, before allowing Adam to lead him to his car, his steps slow and shaky. Carla watched them leave, covering her mouth with her fingers as she let out a sob that she'd pent up for Peter's benefit, tears streaming down her cheeks as the thought of a life without him flooded her mind. She needed him. A life that wasn't filled with Peter's playful remarks, gentle touch and comforting embrace wasn't something that she could bear to dwell on.