Thank you again for the kind reviews :)

They'd been at the hospital now for well over an hour and a half. The moment she toppled over and lost consciousness, one officer again called 999 again for an ambulance, while the older officer assisted Peter in moving Carla to a nearby bench and onto her side. Peter covered her with his coat, and crouched in front of her, his hand resting between her cheek and the wood of the bench until the paramedics arrived some 5 minutes later. He went in the ambulance with her, whispering encouraging words, in between answering the paramedics questions, as they checked her vitals. Steve had followed in the cab, arriving in the emergency room to stand next to the bookie, along with the officers, watching the nurse check Carla's blood pressure, and administering an IV catheter into her hand as she dipped in and out of consciousness.

As she was taken into a cubicle and attended to by the nurse and doctor, Peter and Steve waited outside in the waiting room. After pacing the perimeter of the room countless times, and spending the next hour in nervous anticipation, Peter accepted that he needed a beverage of some sort to steady his nerves.

Once satisfied that his friend had calmed down considerably, Steve decided to inform him of exactly what was told to him in the pub before the officer arrived. Over a cup of water downed coffee Steve told Peter that Rory was a business associate of Carla's, and that he had set up this business mixer weeks prior...

"He said that he hadn't received an RSVP from Carla, and he only remembered that she hadn't when a Frank, something-or-other, told him he was doing business with Underworld. So Rory called her up tonight to remind her around 8ish, and I guess she decided she would go; hence calling for a cab an hour or so later." Steve said, talking a sip of his coffee, "he said she refused a drink fro the majority of the night from the lads, just drinking fizzy water and some orange juice. But around after 11 or so, he and her began talking shop, and he went to the washroom, and when he came back she had obviously caved to peer pressure and been bought and served a drink from one of the lads. He noticed her acting weird, but didn't catch on to why until the bartender told him his suspicions. Pretty lucky he was there, and not whomever slipped her one of them pills!"

Peter nodded, his fist clenching the coffee cup in his hand, as a dozen horrible images danced across his mind.

1:37AM

He could swear the clock on that wall was moving slowly deliberately just to torment him...

"Peter Barlow?" a voice called into the waiting room.

"Yeah, that's me," Peter stood up, throwing the empty coffee cup into the bin and standing in front of the nurse.

"If you'd like to come through now, the doctor would like to have a few words." Peter nodded, and turned to Steve who gave him a reassuring smile. He followed the nurse through the hallway and in through a curtained cubicle where Carla was now lying peacefully on a gurney; the doctor glancing at the beeping machine next to the factory boss and making scribbling notes onto the clipboard he was carrying. He turned to look at the bookie, as the nurse checked on the now half-filled IV bag.

"Mr. Barlow?"

"Yeah," Peter replied, his eyes still on Carla, "how is she?"

"Well Mrs. Connor's vitals are looking good, but her preliminary tests have concluded on traces of Rohypnol in her system. Luckily, she had no adverse reactions to the drug, and even more lucky it was discovered early on." He shook his head and sighed, before turning to Peter, "Based on the timeframe the officers provided us of when they suspected she ingested the drug, we were able to give an emetic medication to induce vomiting. We believe we may have expelled whatever she had left in her system. She's exhausted herself now though, so we've had her on IV for the past hour or so, to replenish some lost fluids. We're pretty satisfied with her recovery: her blood pressure and breathing levels are normal. All in all I would say she's was very lucky. I've seen more than my fair share of cases that did not end so well for patients. Does Mrs. Connor have someone at home that can keep an eye on her for the rest of the night? All things considered, I'm pretty satisfied that we've managed to get it all out of her system and she just needs a good night's sleep, but would prefer someone to keep an eye on her for the next 12 hours, just to ensure that she has no delayed reaction to the drug? Of course, we have no qualms about keeping her in overnight and keeping an eye on her ourselves."

"No, I can look after her." Peter responded quickly, "as long as you're sure she's okay to be released."

"I would like to get the rest of that saline solution in her first," the doctor nodded at the IV drip, "Just to counter any potential dehydration, but I'm content that she should be fine to go home after that. Provided that if there are any, and I mean any, of these adverse affects, you bring her right back."

Peter took the list from the doctor, his eyes scanning the list briefly, before stating, "will do Doctor. Can I just ask: what exactly are the effects of this drug?"

The doctor held the clipboard across his chest, "Have you ever taken a muscle relaxant Mr Barlow?" At Peter's nod, he continued, "How about anti-anxiety medication?"

Peter looked to the ground briefly, "I'm a recovering alcoholic," he stated, "I've been on Valium in order to assist with the alcohol withdrawals in the past."

The doctor nodded, "Now imagine taking a pill that is not only ten times stronger than Valium, imagine that pill also being such a potent muscle relaxant that your body becomes almost paralyzed." the doctor sighed, "There's a reason these are nicknamed "roofies": within 15-20 minutes of it entering the person's body, they start to react in much the same way we do when we've had too much alcohol; there's imbalance, slurred speech, impulsiveness, but with it also comes this almost high-like state. The person will literally feel as though they can release all their inhibitions...they figuratively 'hit the roof', and then they come crashing down."

Peter swallowed the lump in his throat as the doctor continued, "the person will then enter a strong sedative state. Normally unconscious but often drifting in and out; similar to being under anaesthetic. They will have little to no memory of what occurred during their 'high'. It's like a temporary amnesia. Eventually things start to float back, and some will begin to piece things together, others are not so lucky. The amnesia effect is why it is the drug of choice for sexual predators."

The bookie just stared at the woman on the gurney, his head softly shaking in disbelief at just how close Carla had come to being a victim of a sexual crime. He felt the doctor's hand on his shoulder, gently stirring him from his thoughts, "I can assure you, Mr Barlow, that I have every confidence that Mrs Connor is making a full recovery. However, this drug can cause depression or depressive thoughts to arise, so I will impress upon you not to add to what will surely be the feelings of guilt she will have in the morning. I'm more than sure you won't, of course; you seem to care very much for her, but I would be remiss if I didn't mention it. Emotions can run quite high after this type of situation." He offered the man a half hearted smile, " A nurse will be in, in about twenty minutes to take out her IV and then we can discharge her. Have a good night, Mr Barlow."

The doctor walked out of the cubicle, and Peter slowly circled around the bed, taking a seat in the nearby chair. His eyes gazed upon Carla's profile, her head half turned away from him as she slept and a smile tugged at his lips, grateful that she was safe. There was no way he was letting her out of his sight tonight. He leaned back in the chair, taking out his phone and texting Steve,

Hey Steve, Doctor said they will be discharging her in about 20 minutes or so, but they want someone to keep an eye on her, so I'm going to kip at her flat tonight.

If you want to go home, I can catch a cab outside?

As he waited for a reply back, his eyes scanned the side effects the doctor had scribbled down for him:

Excessive sedation

Ongoing impaired speech or balance

Convulsions or seizures

Amnesia spanning beyond drug interaction

Depression

Suicidal thoughts/acts

His phone buzzed, rousing him from mulling over those last words.

No worries Peter. I'll drop you off at Carla's. I'm going to grab another brew and I'll wait for you both out front.

Peter smiled, sending a quick reply to Steve, before a soft voice grabbed his attention

"Peter?"

His eyes shot up to meet Carla's drowsy expression as she gazed upon him, confusion and exhaustion etching across her features, and he quickly moved to sit on the bed, facing her. "Hiya love, how are you feeling?"

She groaned, her eyes closing as she attempted to shift up against the pillow, "like I've got the 'angover from hell." She pressed the heel of her hand under her eyebrow, her face scrunching in discomfort, "what the hell happened...?" she croaked out quietly, before lowering her hand and fixing him with a steely look,

"...and what the hell are you doing here?"