A laugh echoed throughout her, their, flat, his laughter soon stopped as his girlfriend groans again, head leaning back on the bath. He takes the scene before him, his girlfriend on the floor, stained trousers in front of her, the wet patch growing. He's not sure if it's her waters or her bladder failing.

He notices she's sweaty, her head against the bath, panting gently. He's seen her at her most vulnerable state, but this is something else. He's pale as a sheet, with sheer terror splayed over her face. Another groan brings him back to reality, that this is happening. He has to act and act swiftly. This is a time-sensitive situation, if she is, indeed, in labour.

'You're having a baby? You're pregnant.' He states, wondering if this was a sick joke, 'where's the test?'

'Peter, I don't mean I've just found out' she groans, inhaling and then exhaling, but nothing seems to be helping with her pain. 'Peter, my water has just broken.'

'Your water?'

'Yes.' She hisses, groaning again. Suddenly, it's all slotted into place, the pain, the moodiness. She groans, 'Peter, do something.' She moans, feeling a tear seep down her cheek. 'My baby, it's dying.'

'What?'

'It's dying.' She sobs, 'I didn't know about it, so it can't be healthy.' He crouches down, stroking her hair. 'It's going to die.'

'Breathe with me in' he pauses, dramatically drawing a breath, 'and out. In, and out.' She shakes her head, scared. 'We're going to call an ambulance and it will all be fine.' He didn't know what to-do; he didn't know what to say either. He knew what happened during childbirth, but he'd never been in a situation where he even knew what it was going to be like. He knew she used to watch that programme about giving birth, the one on channel four, but he'd always avoided watching them, it looked disgusting.

'Peter, I didn't know and what if it's died.'

'Carla, love, we don't know anything.'

'Peter, it feels like before.' She whispers, awaiting on the ending of her contraction. 'Peter, what's happening. What's happening to me.'

'Nothing, right you need to listen to me, you need to stop panicking. It's not good to panic, we don't know what's happening. Right, you're going to go into the bedroom and sit on the bed.'

'I can't.' She groans, 'it's so painful.'

'Right, well then, you're going to stand in the room and get changed. Your bottoms, they're soaked. You're going to keep breathing.' He promises, helping her up.

'Don't leave me Peter.' She cries, 'Peter, Peter, please.'

'Hey, hey, calm down.' He hushes, 'I'm going to call 999. I'm just going to get my phone. You can come with me, if you want?' She nods, holding his hand as she, trepidation oozing out of her body. She want to break down, but she can't, something is stopping her.

'Peter, I can't do this.' She moans, leaning on the sofa. 'It's happening again.'

'Love, we don't know anything, yet. We may have a healthy little baby at the end of this.' He whispers, not sure as to what to say. He has to stay calm, but all he wants is a drink. Every fibre in his body is screaming out for a drink, he wants nothing more than to have a quick one, drink not sex, but he can't. There is so much shock, he doesn't know what to say. All he knows is that he needs to get his partner to hospital.

'Peter, we won't. I'm not mum material. I've failed, again. This baby, it's not going to live.' She panics, 'what if this isn't even me being pregnant, what if something inside of me has exploded?' She frets, the tears cascading down the woman's cheeks.

'Right, you need to stop that. Look, I've got my phone now, can you make it to the room?' She nods, taking, grateful that the pain had stopped. Temporarily. She's able to move, but only slowly, or she's worried her heart will fall out of her chest.

He helps her into the room, gently helping her out of the bottoms and her knickers. She would usually make some lewd comment as he rifles through her knicker draw, but she doesn't. She just stares into the distance; his heart breaks a little more.

'Here, take this.' He motions, passing her a water bottle, 'take small sips' he encourages, gently stroking her hair. 'You feeling better?'

'Peter, what's happening?'

'I'm not sure.' He confesses, 'but let me just call 999.' She nods, as her body prepares to home another contraction.

'Peter.' She whimpers, 'Peter. I can't do this.' He wraps his arm around her, putting his phone to his ear.

'999, what's your emergency?' The voice on the other side of the headset questions, as he can barely speak. 'Hello.'

'Sorry, uh, ambulance. It's my partner.' He starts, as she starts groaning again. Each groan, or grunt, is closer together than the last, his nerves shot.

'What's happened.'

'I think, I think she's having a baby.'

'Is she pregnant?'

'Not that we knew of, but her water' he bites his lip, rubbing her shoulder, 'her water, it broke. We don't know what to-do.' The other side goes quiet, he's suddenly worried that they've hung up.

'Is your partner feeling the urge to push.' She shakes her head, as the paramedic asks a few more questions, getting a shake for each one of them.

'We've got a long wait on ambulances; can you go to the maternity unit directly? It might be quicker. We can send a paramedic, but we have a number of cat a calls and it's going to be a long wait. If Carla isn't needing to push, you'd be better off going yourself. Is this possible?'

'Um, probably.' He sighs, 'we're near Weatherfield general.'

'What are they saying?' She asks, burying her head in his neck. 'Peter.'

'Do you think you can get into the general?'

'Maybe.'

'Can we try?' She nods, exhaling deeply. 'Okay. We'll go.'

'I'll ring ahead, are you okay to go?'

'Yeah.'

He doesn't know how he gets her out of the house, somehow, he manages to get her into the car, shoving a few things in a random bag, a nightie for her, toothbrush and toothpaste for the pair.

'You're doing okay.' He reassures her, as they pull out of the street, undetected by anyone else. Everyone unaware of the scenes unfolding in their little flat, no one knowing quite what to-do. Thoughts rushing through both their minds, primarily thoughts of shock. They both know feelings will replace this, in due course, but at the moment, Peter knows he has to focus on not getting a speeding ticket as he drives to the hospital.

'Peter, what if it's not me in labour and it's something else.'

'I'm pretty sure it is.' He reminds her, as she leans over the dashboard. 'It's okay Car, we can't do anything now.'

'Peter, why are you so calm?'

'Inside I'm not, but I need to be calm for you. You need me to be there.' He whispers, opening the car door. 'Right, let me help you.' He sighs, going around to helping her out the car.

The walk seems to go on forever, granted the journey isn't that far, but Carla kept having to stop and breathe as he rubs her back. They walk into the labour and delivery ward, being greeted with all these moans, scaring him slightly. He knows that he needs to remain calm, for her, because whatever he's feeling, she's 100 times worse. It's her that's being ripped in two. He can succumb to these feelings after they know what is happening. Right now, he needs to comfort the terrified woman attached to his arm.

They get checked in, Peter managing to give some comprehensive account as to what happened, trying to muster the words as to what has happened. To explain that, a merger few hours ago, they thought she was ill.

Now, they thought she was about to give birth, to what, they had yet to find out.

The couple stay silent whilst they get taken to a room, the ambulance service having phoned ahead. Not a word passes between them, it's a waiting game. She might not even be pregnant, that's the bit Peter holds onto. Not because he doesn't want a baby with Carla. He adores her, and so desperately wanted a baby with her, but not like this.

He knows if they do have a baby, and something happened to it, she'll never forgive herself. Much like he hasn't forgiven himself for their little girl.

Except it was different.

She wonders why she didn't know, each feeling that wracks her body, she's done something wrong. She questions why it's taken this long for her to realise there is something wrong inside of her.

She lies there, t-shirt exposed. Waiting. Just waiting, for the ultrasound to prove that it was all in mind. She examines her tummy, no sign of a bump. It could all be in her mind. It might all be in her mind, hallucinations of the baby she lost all those years ago. The one that she thinks of, just sometimes, when she's falling asleep at night.

Except the thumbing echoes throughout the room, like a drumbeat. She wonders if this is just a vivid hallucination, but Peters face tells her differently. He can hear it too, as can the doctor and midwives.

Carla didn't know if it was a blessing or a curse. There was a baby, and it was alive. They just don't know anything about it. For all she knows it could be too early. It probably is too early.

She lets out a sob as they talk about her, crying out in pain. Both physical and mental, whilst she fights every urge in her to push.

'Right, Miss Connor. We're just going to see how dilated you are. Are you okay with that?' She makes a noise, not too dissimilar to the one she made when it dawned on her that she was having a baby. A guttural noise, making her wonder what she had done to deserve this level of pain. '9CM. Right, Carla, is it?'

'Uh, yeah. Carla.' Peter confirms, she can't speak for herself. She can barely form a sentence, let alone confirm her name.

'Right Carla, it is too late for an epidural, so we're going to give you gas and air. You don't have to use it.' They tell her, 'I know you are shocked, and tired. But you've done so well, this far. We'll be back in a minute.' She nods, bewilderment written over her face, as she moves off the bed, in a bid for seeking some sort of confidence.

She settles, standing by the side of the bed, hands resting gently on the bed frame, swaying her hips. Not that it gives her much comfort, but it helps. She groans, as he starts to rub her back again.

'Carla, you hear that. You're doing so well.' He whispers in her ear, trying to keep him composure.

'Peter. I can't, I didn't know.'

'Hey, hey, it's okay. You're doing brilliantly.' She shakes her head, wondering if this is what Michelle felt like. How scared she was, how sick she felt. It felt like her miscarriage, but 100 times worse. The idea of having another baby was something she'd discounted, after Nick, yet here she was.

That wasn't to say that this baby would be born healthy. Her body had resisted every urge to tell her she was having a baby, what chance did it have?

'Peter.' She groans, 'I need to push'

'Are you sure?'

'Yes.' She snaps at him. 'Please.'

'Okay, okay.' He can hear how broken she is, as he goes out in a blind panic. He'd not done this before, Lucy, Leanne, Carla, Toyah, they'd all been there to have a baby, it just never happened. His first son, that was a mess. Then the miscarriages, forgetting everything with Suzie, he never made it to the end. Not like this. He was never there; he'd never been in a labour and delivery ward and he didn't know what was happening. Now he was there, he was panicking inside. There was a baby, but no one yet knew what was going to happen. He hasn't had the 40 weeks to prepare, in this moment, all he wants is a drink. A drink makes everything better. But he can't, he has to go and get help, for her.

He sits back, as they all come flooding into the room, people donning PPE, that's what he thinks it's called, all coming around his partner. He stays at the end, whispering sweet nothings into the ear of the woman he loves, telling her how well she's doing. Because she is, with each moan, each broken sob, they're getting closer. Closer to what he doesn't know.

'Baby's crowning.' A voice calls, 'help with the head.'

He fights the urge to go and see it, she needs him more. He listens are more parts of the baby come out, until someone says the baby is out.

A deafening silence.

A/N thoughts? What do you think is going to happen? Is the baby alive? And is it a boy or girl?

Thank you for your lovely reviews and DM's. I'm so glad you're enjoying reading it as much as I am writing it!

Oh, and I'm not a midwife, nor a paramedic. My medical knowledge extends to one born every minute and ambulance (and google).