The thing about silence is that it can be a blessing, or, a curse.

Silence can be a beautiful sound, many people revel in it, the mum who has three children constantly screaming at her, the person on a train with a headache but have a couple sitting next to them, airing their dirty laundry very publicly or the old couple that live next door to a student house, when they're out of their minds drunk and are making loud noises.

This wasn't one of those times. A life was hanging in the balance.

On the flip side, it can be the most deafening silence, crippling them. That's what this was. . It was the loudest sound they'd ever heard. Something needed to happen. He needs something to happen, the moments of suspense were killing him. Not the sort of suspense you felt at the cinema, more authentic, terrifying. So much was resting on this noise.

Everyone in the room holds their breath, waiting for something. Willing the tiny body in the midwife's hands to make a noise, anything. A grunt, a groan, a wail. They say seconds can feel like minutes when you're waiting for something. The pair found out that wasn't the case, it was more like years, when you're waiting for something this special, this fragile. He doesn't know what to say, just holding his partners hand, waiting. Both their hands caked in sweat, her looking at him, as if he could do something, when the reality was that he couldn't.

The noise comes seconds later.

Peter has to check it has come from the small body and not his partner, but it starts to scream again as tears rolls down his face, not even worrying that someone will hear. He doesn't think he's ever heard a sweeter sound. Nothing more serene, nothing more beautiful. He is thrown into suspense, as they all talk around him. Only picking up a few words.

'Congratulations mum and dad.'

'You hear that, Car? We have a baby.' He whispers, stroking her forehead, 'we have a beautiful baby.'

'Do you want to cut the cord?' He looks in Carla's direction, but she's not hearing anything, she's just staring in the distance.

'Yes, yes please.' The midwife guides him down to where the baby is being held, awaiting the cut so that it can lie on its mothers' skin, needing that physical contact. He cuts cries as he cuts the chord, not sure if it's out of shock or joy. He's waiting to be pinched, being woken up and he's in hospital again, after having another bender. A "this is your life" kind of thing, he supposes.

Except, he knows it's not.

It's not making him feel better, he doesn't know what to say or do, what will help his partner. He just stands there, staring.

He watches as the baby is put on Carla's chest, suddenly going into parent mode, cradling the small creature as it's limbs flail around it, as the midwife tells Carla things, maybe it's his age, or he's choosing not to listen, but he can't hear what she's saying. Nevertheless, he watches her attempt to feed the baby, the midwife guiding the small body to his partners breast.

'Is it, is it okay?' He dares to breathe, looking at the woman opposite. He's not sure if she's a doctor, nurse or midwife, but she seems to know what she's doing. 'The baby, it's real right?'

'Yes, it's very real. So far, everything looks finds. Once it's finished feeding, we'll take a closer look, but baby is a good size, we estimate a gestation of about 38 weeks.' He tries to-do some mental maths, but his brain is too foggy, he can't work it out. 'March.' She grins, 'by the looks of it, the baby was conceived towards the end of March.'

A lockdown baby, he muses. All that time they spent cooped up together, it must have been then. They had to-do something to keep them occupied, there was only so much daytime TV the pair of them could watch. And March, well, it was cold.

The whole time they were together and neither of them knew that there was something inside of her, something that would tie them together now. Come wind or shine, they had something tethering them together.

'Peter' she murmurs, her voice quiet, surprised he could even hear her above the buzz of the room. 'Peter what have we got?' She tries, not daring to look down at the creature on her chest. Just in case it's not real. She's shocked and she doesn't know what to feel. Disbelief, mostly. Fear, partly. She just doesn't know.

'Got what?' She looks at him, wanting to say something, but holding back. The tears have, finally, stopped falling, not that she was even aware they started.

'Baby.'

'Oh, I don't know.' He turns to the 'midwife next to him. He hadn't asked because he didn't care, the healthy part was more important, he hadn't even thought about it. 'Sorry, is it a boy or girl?

'A girl.' She smiles, as he feels like he's about to collapse, 'congratulations.' He manages to stumble into the chair, the one word changing his whole world.

He's had two little girls, that were never meant to be. Except, he's in a hospital room, his partner has just pushed out a baby, their baby. A little girl. A small creature that is moving on its mum chest, limbs flailing around, as someone says something about a placenta.

'A baby girl.' He manages to breathe, as Carla smiles, suddenly calm and collected, as if they'd not been through the most turbulent few hours he'd ever face. He watches as more tears fall on her cheek, smiling sadly as she passes the baby over, to be weighed and measured, getting ready to deliver the placenta.

'Final push.' He whispers to his partner, holding her hand. 'You're so nearly there. Well done my angel.'

'I love you.' She hiccups, groaning again, before someone announces it's out. 'Where is' she pauses, as if it's the biggest word in the world. Granted, to them, it is. 'Where is she?'

'She's just over here. Just finishing checking her over.'

'How is she?' She dares to ask, hoping it's all good news because she'd already failed once. This was an even more grotesque failure. She didn't even know she was pregnant this time. The epitome of failure, in her eyes.

In the throes of labour, she didn't think she'd deliver a healthy baby. In the seconds following her birth, she thought the body had died. Suddenly, this baby was thrust upon her, and it was screaming and kicking. It was okay.

'First impressions say she's healthy, she weighs a healthy 6 pounds and 12 ounces and is measuring at 47.8cm.'

'That's good, right?'

'Yes. Aye, she's 6 pound 12, born on the 6/12.'

'What time was she born?'

'4:21PM.' He doesn't know where the time has gone, but it's nearing 7PM. 'Would you like a cuddle?'

'I think my nerves are too shot.' He confesses, looking at his partner, 'I'll drop her.'

'It's fine, I'll give her a cuddle.' He smiles gratefully. 'Look, why don't you step outside for a minute, fresh air, it might do you good.'

'You sure? Are you okay?'

'I'm shocked.' She confesses, looking down at the bundle in her arms, 'and we need to source baby stuff. I think it's too late to go shopping.'

'We won't discharge you for a few days.'

'We need to get it though, she'll stress.' He responds. 'I need to tell the family.'

'Look, you go. We aren't going anywhere.' She coos and he wonders how she's so level-headed. He needs a drink to combat the shock, but he can't. He wants to, but he can't. 'Go to a meeting, or something.' She whispers, she's met with resistance. 'Peter, I know you, please go. You can pop home and get me some more clothes.'

'You sure?'

'Positive. I'll, we'll, be okay.'

-CS-

'Peter, I've been calling you, you were supposed to come around for your tea.' A familiar voice calls, frightening the man, still not sure what's happening. 'You look awful, have you been drinking?' The older man asks, his voice full of accusation. 'What have you done?'

'No, no. I'm fine. Kind of.' He breathes, 'look, if we go inside, I'll explain.' He looks suspicious, shaking his head, still opening the door.

'Go on, what's happened.'

'I've just got back from a me-meeting.' He's stumbling over his words, but he still sounds like he's drunk. 'Carla, she's in hospital.'

'What? Is she okay? You should have called me.'

'My phone, it died.' He breathes, 'they're okay.' It's the first time he's referred to them as "them." It dawned on him, during the meeting, that they were a family. They'd been one before, but this was something else.

'They?'

'Carla' he gets out, leaning on the wall, 'she's had a baby.'

'What?'

'She's 'ad a baby.'

'She was pregnant?' He shakes his head. Ken wonders if his son is hallucinating, this was so random, so unexpected. He discreetly tries to see if his son smells like alcohol, he doesn't.

'We didn't know.' He stutters, 'she didn't go into work because she felt sick. Then her water broke.' He's aware of how ludicrous it sounds, it sounds made up, except it isn't.

'Are you okay?'

'Carla made me go to a meeting.'

'And?'

'It helped. Dad, it's so overwhelming. It's such a shock.' He feels like a child again, as he sobs. 'We don't have anything. I don't know what to-do.'

'Let me make some calls, we'll work it all out. You need to breathe; I'll make you a coffee.'

'What?'

'Look you sit down.'

'I've got to get back.' He frets, shaking his head. He isn't sure if he wants to go back to the hospital, it's all so raw. He should be excited, he knows he should, but he's too worried. He can't, he just can't.

'You're no good to her like this, Peter. We've got stuff to sort, I take it that's why your over here?' In all honesty, he isn't sure, but it was the first place in his mind that he thought of, behind the Rovers. He knows his mind needs to focus on something that isn't a drink. That's why he's here.

'Dad, I didn't even think.' He shakes his head; a fresh sob threatens to erupt.

'Right, you need to sit down. Take a deep breath.' He nods, sitting on the chair, as his dad puts on the kettle. 'I'm going to call Daniel.'

'Daniel?'

'Bertie, he might have some old clothes.' He tries, 'and I'm going to call Johnny. He'll want to know.' He tells him, getting the phone and dialling a number.

He feels awful for his son, looking absolutely terrified, much like when Carla went missing. They'd settled down, having a new place, they seemed happy. Not that they can't be happy with a baby, but it will take some adjusting. He's in shock and he wasn't party to this information.

'Dad?' A voice draws him out of his thoughts, 'you okay?'

'Uh, yeah, fine. Can you come over? Please.'

'Um yeah, I have Bertie with me.'

'Is Adam there?'

'Yeah.'

'Get him to babysit.'

'You're scaring me.'

'Sorry.' He whispers, 'please.'

'I'll be over in a moment.' He nods, forgetting Daniel can't see him, as he makes his son a strong coffee.

'Here you go.' He tells his son, rubbing his shoulder. He doesn't know how to help him. This isn't a normal situation, as the doorbell rings.

'Dad, you okay? Oh, hi Peter, you don't look well.'

'Uh.'

'What's happened?'

'You might want to sit down, mate.' Peter manages to get out. 'Carla's had a baby.'

'What?'

'She's had a baby, we didn't know.'

'Is it okay?'

'The doctor says it is, so far. 6 pound 12, born on the 6/12.'

'And Carla?'

'Seems fine, at the moment.'

'So, am I here for parenting tips?'

'Uh no, it's a bit of a random question, but do you have any of Bertie's old clothes, just for tonight. All the shops, they're closed.'

'Um, maybe. So, it's a boy then? I'm really not sure what I have left of Berties.'

'Another grandson?'

'No, it's a little girl.'

'Who's a little girl?' A voice calls in, the door opening. 'You finally turned up then, where's the wicked witch of the West?'

'Don't call her that.' Ken reprimands her.

'Has she died?'

'Tracy, that's a horrible thing to say.' Ken scolds, as Peter just sat there, something about this situation being wrong. The pure dread on her brother face suggests that something isn't normal, something isn't right.

'She's had a baby.'

'Sorry?'

'Carla, she's had a baby.'

'Is this a joke?'

'No.' Peter confirms, but they all know she's just asking what the other two people are thinking. 'I didn't take a picture, but she 'ad a baby.' Shock passes through her face, trying to remain neutral, but that wasn't what she was expecting.

'We're trying to find something for the baby to wear, obviously not knowing, they don't have anything and it's a Sunday.' Ken tries, 'Daniels going to try, and look see if Bertie has anything. Unless you can think of anything else?'

'I need to tell the Connors.' It finally dawns on him, 'they need to know.'

'Do you want me to tell them?' Ken offers, as he shakes his head.

'I need to tell them.'

'Right, you go and tell them.' Tracy declares, she dislikes his partner, but her brother seems to be really shaken up. 'Daniel, you and I are going to find some clothes.'

'Really, why?'

'Your baby needs it.'

'You don't like Carla.'

'It's not about Carla, Peter. I know people think I'm a cow, but I'm not going to make a baby suffer.' She promises, grabbing her younger (step-) brother.

-CS-

'Ken, what can I get you?' Johnny asks, greeting the pair.

'A chat.'

'Oh, aye.'

'In the back, please.' He whispers, 'it's important.'

'Is it Carla? I heard she wasn't well.'

'It's not appropriate here.'

'You'd better come through, then.' He asks, panic in his eyes. 'What's happened to my daughter?' Peter opens his mouth, but words fail him. He doesn't know how to start, but he feels like he's five again and his dad has to speak for him.

'Carla, she's, uh, she's had a baby.'

'What?'

'She had a baby this evening.'

'You what? Peter is this true?' He just nods, 'no.'

'Johnny it is, she had it this afternoon. She wasn't feeling well, and she was pregnant, but we didn't know.'

'Is-is it okay?'

'So far.'

'And Carla?'

'Shocked.'

'Can I see her?' Peter shakes his head, knowing that she didn't need any visitors. 'Why?'

'She's tired and in shock. Maybe tomorrow.' Ken tries.

'How did you know?'

'Peter came around, about half an hour ago. We're trying to sort out the baby stuff.'

'She's not coming home today, is she?'

'No, but you know what she's like.' Peter tries to inject humour into the conversation but fails. This isn't funny, this is the least funny thing ever.

'Your shaking.' He nods, biting his lip. He doesn't trust himself with words, for fear of crying. It was fine when it was born, when she was born, but now he's in public, it's not okay.

'I've got to go.' He stresses, 'Tracy, she's texted me to meet me at the house.'

'Use the back door, people will talk.'

'Thank you.'

'Oh, Peter' Johnny stops him, as he opens the door, 'what'd you get?'

'A little girl'

A/N thought's? I'm so glad you all are enjoying this- let me know what you think should happen! Oh, and if anyone has any name suggestions that would be great- I'm struggling to find one I like… Although, I know that she won't be called Hayley.