He just stands at the door, watching the pair of them, his heart swelling.

She doesn't notice him there, too absorbed into watching the baby feed, trying to take everything, wincing at the way the baby feels against her nipple, tugging at it. It hurts more than she thought it would, it making her cramp. She doesn't know what to say though because she's bone tired. She didn't even know that was possible.

He thinks about taking a picture of her, it's such an intimate and tender moment, but he knows she wouldn't appreciate it. It's such a private moment, even he feels like he's intruding.

Her face, he can't read it. He can't read what she's thinking, if she's pleased or something. Not that he's had a chance to gather his thoughts about all of this. There was no choice, no discussion about whether they could have a baby or not. He knew she wasn't sold on the idea. He's wanted a baby, but it's all well and good saying it and the reality is so different.

He's not saying he'd push for a termination, he wouldn't, but this feeling of powerlessness is shocking. It is truly shocking, he can't seem to gather his thoughts, how he feels about a little baby. It's such a big decision, such a life-changing event. And they're just so lucky she came out alive.

'Do you want a cuddle?' Carla asks, pulling him out of his thoughts, 'don't think I didn't notice you standing there.'

'Sorry.'

'It's a lot to take in, isn't it?' He nods, edging closer to them. 'How was the meeting.'

'Good' he confesses, 'I really wanted a drink.'

'I know you did. That's why you had to go to one.'

'I shouldn't be feeling like this?'

'What? Shock? Peter, I'm still shocked.'

'Are you?'

'I'm on some weird auto-pilot setting. I can't do it, what if I'm not strong enough, but at the moment, getting through the hour is a big accomplishment. I don't think the shock will be going away anytime soon.' She shifts uncomfortably as she speaks to him. 'I never thought I'd have kids, yet here we are with a surprise baby in my arms.'

'What are we going to call her?' He asks, finally sitting down, 'we can't call her baby.'

'I'm not making any big decisions now.' She yawns.

'Do you want me to go?'

'No.' She whispers, 'you can take her though, mind her head.'

'Hello precious.' He starts, she's caught his attention, 'you gave us quite a scare. We weren't expecting you, no.' He watches as she tries to move, her movement restricted by her swaddling, but he wonders if she's cold. 'You are beautiful.'

She watches with tears in her eyes, watching the child grab his finger. She knows it's an automatic reflex, but it's still special. She's spent the last few hours with her, so it's nice to hand her over to her dad. So many thoughts have passed through her mind, questions as to what is happening. Can she do this? Can he do this? Last time has haunted her thoughts, the worry bubbling up, not yet simmering over. But it's a ticking timebomb, right? The doubts, they're always going to be there. Not just about him, she's got doubts about her abilities too. She doesn't think she'll be a good mum, except now she doesn't have the choice.

'Did you bring an outfit?'

'We found one in Bertie's clothes, it might be too big, but I'll go shopping tomorrow.'

'I take it everyone knows.' She asks, with hushed undertones.

'Only close family. Have they not texted?'

'Shit.' She groans, gently leaning into the pillow. 'We missed dinner at your dads.'

'No, it's okay. I spoke to him and it was fine.'

'Really?'

'You were having a baby, it's a bit more important.'

'Everything is okay, so far, she's okay.' She whispers, 'I've not done a lot of things right, but I'm glad my meds made me stop drinking. We've still got to watch out, but.'

'Carla, it's a flaming miracle.' He tells her, a smile not playing on his face. She knows how he feels, not daring to meet his eye. 'I'll get someone to help us get her changed.'

'Thank you.'

-CS-

'Dad, what are you doing here.' A voice startles him, turning around. He can feel the cold hit his face, but he's not cold. Rather, he is too warm. The mother of his daughter would be having a go about not having a "proper winter coat" but she was preoccupied. Maybe he did need one.

'You shouldn't be smoking, smoking kills, you can prevent it.' He gets a snort from his son. Its one of those things that he's going to have to give up now they have a newborn, second-hand smoke is bad for it, for her.

'You smoke.'

'Used to.' He rolls his eyes, moving nearer the boy, 'what are you doing?'

'I asked first.'

'I don't know.' He confesses, getting an eyebrow raised in response.

'You just randomly hang around hospitals, do you?'

'What are you here for?' He can see he's going to get no coherent response from the man, shrugging.

'Steve sent me to call auntie Tracy, she's supposed to be here.'

'What?'

'Ollies been taken ill, again.' His heart sinks because it's not fair a child so young to have such a grave death sentence.

'Oh, that's awful.' It dawns on him that she's not here because of him, feeling bad because her partner, and daughter, probably needed her more. For once, she'd been an asset rather than a hinderance, something that couldn't always be used to describe Tracy Barlow.

'She went home to get something, a few hours ago. She's not come back.'

'I think that might be my fault.'

'What are you holding her captive?' He shakes his head, trying to get it together. 'You okay dad?'

'It's Carla.'

'What? Is she okay?' He smiles slightly at the fact his son was concerned, he actually liked her now which was a massive bonus.

'There's no easy way to say this' Peter concedes, 'she's had a baby.'

'What?' He laughs, his reaction not too dissimilar to the reaction of his father mere hours earlier. A nervous laugh, perhaps? 'Nah, that's not funny dad.'

'You have a little sister.'

'You're joking?'

'I'm not.'

'She's not pregnant.'

'Apparently she was.' Peter shrugs, wishing he had a cigarette in his hand. 'We didn't have any idea, then her water broke.'

'Too much information.'

'You have a little sister, born at 4PM this afternoon.'

'Can I see her?' He asks, hopefully. He wasn't this respective to his and Toyah's baby, but he's actually asking to see the baby. He knows he should say no, he's not sure what Carla's view would be, but he so desperately wants the boy to bond with his sister. He can't describe it.'

'C'mon.' He motions, as he stamps the unused cigarette out, the one he was clearly using for a "show." 'You'll have to wait outside, just to check that Carla's okay with it.' The rules on visitors had broken down, so he knew Simon would be okay actually getting on the ward.

'No, she'll be fine.' He reassures her, 'we're both in shock.' He motions as they walk the vast corridors of the hospital, mostly empty. As they pass the children's ward, Peter can't help feeling sad. The PICU is on that ward, a few floors below maternity. The children's wing of the hospital was home to the birth of new life and the place that took the life of the most critically ill children out there.

Shocking.

'You okay, dad? You've been quiet. I can come back.'

'No, we're here now. I was just thinking about you.'

'Me?'

'And Ollie.' He confesses, sanitizing his hands and opening the door. 'It's just so sad.'

'I guess death comes to us all.'

'Very philosophical.' Peter muses, 'but someone so young shouldn't be that ill. Your poor mum.'

'Stop thinking about that, you've got to focus on your new baby. My sister.' His heart bursts when he calls her his sister, he can't describe it. Something as simple as a word, it makes such a difference. One small word, something about the way Simon says it. He almost forget to count the doors, as they enter the ward, a buzz surrounding it.

Simon spots Carla's hair, pulling his dad to a halt, before he walks straight past it. 'I'll wait here, just till you ask.' He nods, taking a deep breath.

'You were a while.' Carla notes, her voice laced with sleep. 'We were wondering where you were.'

'I bumped into someone in the courtyard.' He confesses, as he moves nearer the bassinette.

'Who?'

'Um, Ollie, he's been taken in.'

'Oh Peter, that's dreadful.' She sighs, her hormone playing havoc with her emotions as she starts to cry.

'I bumped into Simon.'

'You told him?'

'It slipped out. Can he see her?' She bites her lip, glancing out the door, surprised to see him outside the door.

'Go on.' She sighs, as Peter goes to the door, bounding like a puppy. He's happy, but his emotions keep running up and down, one moment he's filled with fear, but that was completely replaced when she told him that Si could come and see the baby.

'Hiya.' He whispers, going nearer to the bed. 'I didn't believe it when dad told me, I had to find out myself. Is this her?' She nods, 'can I?'

'Mind her head.' She warns, as he picks her up, looking into her half open eyes.

'Oh, she's tiny.' He grins, cradling her in his arms. 'I can you in her.'

'Can you?' He nods his head, but his eyes remain fixed on the little pink bundle. 'Aren't you beautiful, hmm.'

Peter goes to catch Carla's eyes, turning away from his son and daughter, his children. He's not expecting the sign before him, his heart racing a mile a minute, feet routed to the floor. As if a glue was preventing him from running, from getting help. Luckily, he had his son there.

'Dad, look at this.' He calls, but Peter can't hear, deep routed in fear, yet again. 'Dad, dad.' Simon finally looks up from the baby, his silence matching Peters, only for a moment.

'I'll get the doctor. Stay calm, she'll be okay.' He promises, going out of the room, baby in tow, as his dad just stands there, watching her.

Suddenly the room is surrounded my medical professionals, much like when they brought her into the hospital, except he's being asked to leave this time. And she was conscious, she was in pain, but she was conscious. He's not even sure if she's breathing.

He tries his hardest to protest, but he can't. He can't seem to find the words, finding himself standing next to his son. As he looks through the slit in the door, but all he can see is her pale skin and the blood that has gathered around her thighs, trying to take a deep breath. She looks like she did when she collapsed in the pub, so frail, so ill. It scares him, a rush of fear coming over him, all these scenarios playing out in his head. He can feel himself hyperventilating and he's terrified.

'Dad, she'll be okay. You know Carla, she's tough as old boots.'

'Simon.' He whispers, not daring to look at him, for fear he'll break down. 'Does your mum want you?' Peter asks, as his phone buzzed again.

'I'm needed here.' He declares, standing with his dad, 'mum has Steve and Nick.'

'You need to let her know.' Simon shrugs.

'Get my phone out then and tell mum I'm with you.'

'Simon, where are you?' A voice blares out from the other end, Peter wincing, 'Si?'

'It's Peter.'

'What the hells happened?'

'He's with me, he's fine.'

'Can I speak to him?' His son shakes his head, looking down at the baby.

'He's a little busy, Lee.'

'Doing what? Where are you?'

'Um, we're at maternity.'

'Maternity? What in the general?'

'Um, yeah.'

'Why?'

'Carla, she's had a baby.' He tells her, nervously. 'I bumped into Simon.'

'Is this a joke.'

'No. Um, Carla, there's something wrong and he's here with the baby. She was bleeding, he's been great.' He tries, his voice wobbly again. He doesn't want to cry again, not with his ex-wife on his phone and certainly not with his son here. 'He's holding the baby; I can send hi-'

'No, he can stay with you.'

'Thank you.'

'She'll be fine.'

'I don't know.' Suddenly a figure in scrubs appears from the room. 'I have to go.'

'Wait up, did you get a boy or a girl?'

'A baby girl.'

'Congratulations.' She tells him, as he hangs up, turning towards the doctor.

'Mr Barlow?'

'Me.' He volunteers, 'what's happening.'

'Carla, she's suffering from a relatively rare complication.'

A/N thoughts? What do you think has happened to Carla? When I wrote this, I didn't realise this complication was so rare, but turns out it is. I'm glad you're all still enjoying it and let me know what you think!