WHOA! Big ass chapter ahead! I know its long but that's because after digging it out of my WCHB vault, I decided to add to it a little which I hope doesn't prove to be a mistake. This is the final Pete-less chapter, so in other words, the next one won't be as boring because he'll be in it. But personally I quite like this chapter as it gives you a further insight into some of the characters and while I know thats not everyone's 'thing' I hope you give it a shot. :) Special thanks to Pishta Hamster, Becki2810 and Little Miss Bovver who have been kind enough to take their time and review pretty much every chapter so far...you guys are my heroes! Enjoy!

Allie let herself in through the front door as quietly as she could, not particularly wanting to alert her brothers to the fact she was home.

Reaching into her pocket, Allie felt the small photo the OB/GYN had given her and her heart rate picked up. She was pregnant…sure she's suspected it for the last week but now she knew. This meant she was responsible for someone other than herself…meaning no more Bounty bars for dinner and no more staying till unholy hours of the morning watching Pete sleep.

"What happened to Lara?"

Her brother's voice made her jump and she turned to face him as he stood in the door way to the kitchen, drying his hands on a towel. Meeting his dark hazel eyes, Allie wanted to smile but couldn't.

"She uh, she went to get some more food," she told him with a small nod.

"I could have done that if you'd asked," Richard frowned. "I passed Waitrose on my way back from the house, I could have-…"

"Honestly, Rich, it's fine," Allie shook her head and they stared at each other for a long moment, her hand still on the banister, her foot still on the first step unsure as to whether they were done talking or not.

"Hey," Harry grinned at her as he emerged from the study, a half eaten apple in his hand.

"I'm uh, I'm cooking dinner, it should be ready in an hour," he told them.

"Nice," Harry grinned. "We should keep you around more often," he joked. "Whatever you're cooking beats mine and Lara's joint ability to make cheese on toast, what'd you reckon, Allie?"

"I'm pregnant," she blurted, unsure where the hell that had come from. Staring at her brothers, she watched as Harry's eyes widened and he dropped the apple he was holding whilst Richard merely stared at her as though she had suddenly grown two heads.

"You're wha-…Allie, you," Harry stuttered as he shook his head. "I'm sorry?"

"That's where I was this morning," she explained. "I took a test last week but I needed to know for sure so I went for a scan…Lara came with me," she shrugged, laughing nervously. "Say something, please,"

"Are you joking me?" Harry frowned, his voice cold.

"What?" Allie whispered, shocked at the anger in his eyes.

"You're 24 years old, Allie," he spat. "And you've never heard of birth control?"

"What?" she shrieked. "What the hell are you-…"

"Are you stupid or something?" he shouted, his patience snapping. "What the hell are you going to do now?"

"Hey!" she shouted back. "I'm not some crack whore who got knocked up behind the local YMCA, alright?"

"Well you're not married either, are you?" Harry reasoned.

"So?" she laughed bitterly. "I'm engaged! Same bloody difference!"

"Engaged?" Harry laughed at her. "Yeah, to a man who has the current brain capacity of an orange," he shook his head. "What are you going to do if he dies, Allie? Quit your job and move in here to raise your own little mini hooligan until he reaches 24 and history can go and repeat itself?"

His words echoed in the large hallway and he closed his eyes for a long moment, wishing he's shut his damn mouth a few seconds earlier. Opening his eyes and looking back at her, he watched as her green eyes filled with tears, her mouth hanging open slightly in shock that he of all people could say that to her.

"Allie," he reached out but she shook her head, backing away from him and then turning to run through the other side of the house. They heard the side door slam which led to the green house and Harry looked back at Richard who was staring at him with unreadable eyes until with a shake of his head, he took off after her.

Allie hugged her knees tighter to her chest as she sat on the floor of the rather impressive tree house her father and her uncle Chris had built for them when they were little. Staring at the set of five hand prints on the wall, one belonging to each of the family, she smiled; her name as she had only been five at the time was scrawled under her smudged handprint with childish, barely legible writing.

It was so long ago now, it felt almost like a distant world. Looking down at her stomach, she almost laughed realising that this was so not what she had planned all those years ago. The echo of Tracy Chapman's 'Fast Car' crackled around the small room from the old record player her dad kept up here back in the days when they would sit up here in the late summer evenings listening to the Beatles for hours on end.

The small door creaked and she frowned, not having heard anyone crawl up the ladder. Wiping her eyes on the sleeve of Pete's hoodie which she was wearing to ward off the cold, she shook her head.

"Piss off, Harry," she snapped.

"Wrong brother," Richard told her, crouching down to get into the small room and ignoring her look of shock as he sat down on the bean bag next to her.

"Sorry," she shook her head. "I just didn't think it would be-…"

"Me?" he shrugged. "Of course you wouldn't think that," he smiled wryly. "I'm the other brother," he sniffed, the chill in the small room quickly clearing with their combined body heat. "Jesus, I thought we threw that out," he frowned, pointing to the record player. Allie shrugged and he bent down, turning the volume down slightly. "But then I always have been, ever since you were little,"

"What?" Allie asked, confused.

"Me," he explained. "Always being the dreaded boring bastard of the family,"

"Don't say that," Allie whispered.

"Why not?" Richard asked her evenly. "It's true," he shook his head. "I'm not blaming you, Alyssa. I know it's not down to you, it's…" he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, I suppose it's my fault if anyone's."

"What?" Allie shook her head. Where was all this coming from?

"I know how much you hate it when I call you Alyssa," he told her, a faint smile on his lips. "I know you roll your eyes at me every time I refuse to dance around the kitchen singing like a loon on Christmas morning. I know that given the choice between spending a day with me or a day with Harry, you'd pick Harry every time without even thinking about it,"

"Rich…" she pleaded.

"I was so jealous of you and Harry growing up," he smiled. "You both had the ability to just walk into a room and make friends…you still do it now. You could cope on your own whereas I just used to cease up. Hand me any law book in the world and I can decipher it in an hour but put me in a room full of people and I end up…" he shrugged. "Well, I'm fucked really, aren't I?"

Catching his sisters surprised look, he turned to smirk at her.

"Yes, I swear," he raised an eyebrow. "You don't honestly think I walk around back home yelling 'fiddle sticks' every time I drop something do you?"

Against her will, Allie laughed; she'd never seen this side to her brother…it felt…weird. Suddenly, Richard stood up and walked over to the wall with the painted hand prints on it and smiled, a smile which seemed to bleed of his face as his fingertips approached the one belonging to their mother, stopping just short of it.

"I never understood how Dad could look at you after…" he shook his head and swallowed hard. Behind him, Allie frowned in confusion, her heart pounding with fear. What did he mean?

"Your laugh was the worst thing," he spoke quietly. "It was just like hers. And then the older you got, you started to look like her, you even had the same little mannerisms; like that clicking thing you do with your tongue when you're nervous," he smiled. "The way you walk on your tip toes all the time around the house. I could never understand how Dad could bear to look at you because I couldn't," he admitted. "It was horrendous, because I knew I was supposed to be there to look after you, I was your big brother and I couldn't even give you a hug because every time I looked at you, I saw mum."

A tear trickled down his cheek and he shook his head, walking back over and sitting back down next to her.

"The day of her funeral, I was in charge of you and Harry," he turned to face her and wasn't in the least surprise to see her staring back at him, her face streaked with fresh tears. "You were only nine and you followed me everywhere, talking to people who knew mum, shaking their hands, not once complaining that you were tired or…or even crying," he clenched his fists. "And then when we went outside for the first time and saw the coffin," he almost sobbed. He'd never spoken about this before, not to anyone, let alone Allie.

"Your eyes started watering and you…you reached out your hand, your tiny little hand and you waited for me to take it," he paused. "And I didn't. I walked ahead of you and I left you there on your own." He shook his head as he sobbed silently. "I put that distance between us because I couldn't handle what happened to mum, but I always loved you," he whispered. "Always, Allie,"

Reaching out, Allie took his hand in hers and held it tightly, letting him know she was there, that it was ok. He looked at their hands for a long moment and then suddenly, pulled to her to him, hugging her tightly as he cried into her shoulder. Allie hugged him back, ignoring the moisture she could feel soaking through Pete's sweater as her brother sobbed. After a long moment, he pulled away and bashfully wiped his eyes. He'd needed to tell her that for fifteen years and now he had…but where the hell did that leave them now?

"Harry didn't mean what he said," he blurted, eager to regain some dignity. "He's just scared."

"And you think I'm not?" Allie snorted, wiping her eyes. "I just…today when that doctor did the scan and told me I was pregnant, he smiled when he said it. And for the first time since Pete got hurt it felt like something in my life was normal, happy even, and I wanted to…"

"Do you have a photo?" Richard asked her. "Of the scan,"

"Oh, yeah," she nodded and fumbled about with her pocket before pulling out the crumpled photo. Taking it from her, Richard laughed lightly at the small white dot which had been circled with red pen.

"I asked the doctor to do it for me," she explained. "I couldn't see it,"

"So this is your baby?" her brother nodded, looking at the photo with his lips pursed.

"Yep," Allie whispered. "That's them,"

"Wow," he murmured. "This is amazing, Alyssa," she rolled her eyes, figuring that old habits died hard. "I'm really proud of you, you know that?"

"For getting pregnant?" she raised an eyebrow and caught the flush on his neck.

"No," he told her. "For dealing with all this as well as you have…for being brave and not…not giving a shit what people like Harry think," he handed the photo back to her and smiled faintly. "I know you can do this. And Pete, he's…I know I don't speak to him much but I know he's a good guy and…" he shrugged. "I'm here for you, both of you. You'll be ok,"

She smiled back at him, opening her mouth so say something when the trap door in the floor pushed open causing the record player to almost fall through the opening, hitting Harry square in the head.

"Ow!" he shouted. "Fucking Tracy Chapman!"

Shoving it back into the tree house, Harry pulled himself through the hole after it and sat cross legged in front of his brother and sister, his hair full of twigs as they stared at him expectantly.

"So after thinking about it hard for ten straight minutes," he rubbed his chin. "I've come to the conclusion that I'm an idiot,"

"You're not even close," Allie told him, her eyes scalding.

"Twat?" he offered.

"No,"

"Dick Head?"

"Too tame,"

"Wanker?"

"Is this really helping?" Richard asked, exasperated.

"Fuck face?" Harry continued.

"So close, but yet so far," Allie shot back.

"I'm a cunt, aren't I?" Harry winced.

"Bingo," Allie pointed at him, clicking her finger for effect.

Harry laughed and saw the smile pulling at Allie's mouth; nudging her foot with his hand, he smiled back at her.

"I really am sorry, kiddo," he told her. "You know that I was just scared and I have a policy to not yell at pregnant women, it's not cool and I know that." He sighed. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah," Allie shrugged. "My stomach hurts and I constantly feel the need to eat Bounty bars,"

"Jesus, they're disgusting," Richard wrinkled his nose.

"They're not that bad," she protested.

"Nah," Harry shook his head. "I'm with Buddy Holly on this one,"

Allie laughed remembering Richard's nickname from school when he had had to wear thick glasses for a while following a rugby accident.

"But you're healthy, right?" Harry pressed, serious again. "And so is the…" he gestured to her stomach and she smiled, nodding lightly.

"Oh, you mean the mini hooligan?" she raised an eyebrow and he winced.

"Fuck," he laughed and ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, let's try and keep that one away from Pete, shall we? I'm pretty sure he could still beat me shitless even with a tube down his throat,"

Allie smiled and tucked her hair behind her ears, leaning against Richard's shoulder a bit more.

The three of them sat in silence for a moment as the needle skipped off of the record, all of them staring at the hand prints on the wall.

"Hey, this means we can put another pair up there," Harry smiled and then grimaced. "Oh shit, there's going to be a Dunham in our family,"

"Two actually," Allie laughed. "Counting Pete,"

"We can go see him after dinner if you want," Richard told her. "All three of us,"

"Do we have to hold hands?" Harry asked completely dead pan, making Allie giggle. "Maybe we could sing some kind of Harding family anthem,"

"Must you ruin every moment?" Richard sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Yes," the younger Harding brother nodded. "Yes, I must,"

Allie's phone started ringing and she sighed, lifting her hips slightly to slide it out of her jeans pocket and frowning as Shannon's name appeared on the screen.

"Hello?"

Richard and Harry listened intently to the conversation which contained mostly one word answers of 'yes', 'no' and 'what?'.

"Is everything ok?" Harry asked her once she'd hung up. "What's happened? Is it Pete?"

"No," she shook her head, her voice low and dark. "It's Bovver," she swallowed hard. "He's at the hospital."

Bovver pulled nervously on the sleeve of his shirt as he stared down at Pete's body; the swelling had gone down in his face and you could see his eyes now, even though the surgical tape over them wasn't exactly a pleasant sight. It was the first time Bovver had seen him since the night Allie had screamed at him to leave, that it was his fault Pete had ended up like this. That it should have been him in this bed.

Gripping the metal railing at the end of the bed, Bovver knew in his heart that she was right; Pete had so much to live for…but Bovver…Bovver had nothing.

A nurse came in and he pulled away from the bed, feeling like a child who was caught with their hand in their mum's purse. She smiled at him but he didn't return it, instead backing away from her until his back was flat against the wall.

"Are you Pete's brother?" she asked, tapping the drip which flowed into Pete's arm and then scrawling something down on her notepad.

"I'm…" Bovver's voice came out husky so he cleared his throat and tried again. "Nah, I'm just a mate,"

"Oh," she nodded and went about peeling the bandage away from his head; Bovver caught the first glimpse of the deep gash underneath it and quickly closed his eyes, feeling more than a little sick. "I've not seen you here before,"

"You his nurse then?" Bovver asked gruffly.

"Yeah," the brunette nodded. "Well me and one of the older Sisters. He's a lot better now, you know? He had another MRI today and things are looking a little better, his brain waves are smoother, which is a really good sign," Walking around the other side of the bed, she bent down and picked up a piece of paper, frowning when she read it.

"If you're a mate of Pete's, I'm taking it that you know Allie?" she asked.

"Yeah, why?" Bovver frowned. "Is she alright?"

"Yeah," the nurse smiled. "She was in here not long ago," making her way over to him, she held out the paper. "But she must have dropped this, so I don't know it you want to give it to her,"

Staring down at the card in his hands, Bovver's heart sped up and his stomach sank all the way to his toes.

Oh, fuck…

Miss Alyssa Scarlet Harding: ANTENATAL appointment card.

"Poor thing," the nurse murmured, checking the various tubes coming out of Pete's arms. "I can't even imagine what she must be going through with Pete like this and a baby on the way,"

Unable to form words, Bovver nodded and shoved the card into his pocket, deciding that on his way back from here he would stop over at her house and try to speak to her. If nothing else he had to give her the card back and he figured that would buy him a good 30 seconds to yell some kind of apology at her.

"Morning, lass,"

Bovver's head snapped up and he looked at the Scotsman who had just stepped into the room, a large envelope decorated with stickers under his arm.

"Morning Benjamin," the nurse smiled.

"So how's he doing this morning, eh?" he asked, placing the envelope on the bedside table and folding his arms. "How did the scan go?"

"Better," she nodded. "I was just telling Pete's friend…" she frowned and then smiled apologetically at Bovver. "I'm really sorry, I didn't actually catch your name."

Turning to see who she was looking at Benjamin's eyes landed on the nervous man standing with his back pressed against the wall and he clenched his fists.

"Stuart," he raised his eyebrows. "Long time, no see, eh brother?"

"I'll leave you to it," the nurse mumbled, obviously picking up on the suddenly arctic atmosphere in the room.

They stood there for a moment, staring at each other until Benjamin started laughing.

"You really have got some balls on you, haven't you?" he shook his head in disgust. "No one hears a peep out of your for almost a month now and then you suddenly show up?"

"I didn't know it had fuck all to do with you," Bovver snapped.

"Pete's one of my best mates," he told him. "And from what I gather its pretty much down to you that he's lying in that bed, so I think that does make it my fucking business, don't you sweetheart?"

"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about," Bovver snarled, stepping forward and getting in the slightly younger man's face. "So if I were you, I'd shut my mouth,"

"Careful there, little Bovver," Benjamin winced. "You might think that being in that little gang of yours holds a lot of weight, but I can tell you right now, it holds fuck all with me," he smiled. "You reckon I'm afraid of you, brother? Talk to me like that again and I'll show you what fear is,"

Suddenly the door to the room slammed open again and both men turned to stare at the petite blonde, her green eyes wild as she set them on Bovver.

"Allie," he whispered.

"What the hell do you think you're doing here?" she hissed, stepping into the room. "I told you to stay away from him,"

"I needed to see him," he explained. "He's my best mate…I…"

"You're best mate?" Allie spat. "Then where've you been the last month? Where were you when he had the operations on his knee? Where were you that day his heart stopped for almost a minute and they had to revive him? Where were you when the rest of us were sat out in that shitty little hallway waiting for another useless scrap of information just so we'd know he was still alive?" she cried, reaching out and shoving him hard. "I asked you a question, you selfish son of a bitch, where were you?"

"I couldn't fucking deal with it alright?" he shouted back at her. "You said this was my fault and it…" he looked down and shook his head.

"Aw, Bov, I'm sorry," she whimpered. "Did I hurt your feelings? I'm sorry, you know it's just I've never been in this type of situation before, I'm not aware of the appropriate etiquette for when you're future husband is hanging onto his life by a thread."

"I've said I'm sorry," he told her, tears building up in his eyes. "What else is there I can do? I can't go back and change what happened,"

"You can leave," she told him, her voice low and cold. "I mean it Bovver, get out," she shook her head, not understanding why he just stood there looking at her. "I said get out!" she screamed, her calm demeanour cracking as tears rolled down her cheeks. Benjamin reached out and placed a gently hand on her back, hoping to calm her down.

Knowing that he was fighting a losing battle, Bovver walked around Allie making his way towards the door when suddenly he stopped and pulled the card from his pocket. Walking back to stand beside her, he held it out to her, watching as her green eyes widened.

"You dropped this here earlier," he explained. "I told the nurse I'd give it back to you,"

She reached up and took it from him, nodding mutely.

"Congratulations, Allie," he mumbled, before turning back to the door and walking quickly towards it.

"What if he never wakes up?"

Her words stopped him and he turned to face her, seeing the desperation, the utter fear in her eyes. He recognised it immediately…after all, he's seen the same thing every time he'd looked in the mirror for the past month.

"I can't lose him, Bovver," she cried. "But I'm so scared that I'm going to,"

Before he even really knew what he was doing, Bovver strode across the room and pulled her into a tight hug, more amazed at her actions than his own when she didn't pull away from him. Knowing that there was nothing he could say to her in that moment that would make either of them feel better, he settled for pressing a kiss against her hair and rocking her gently, meeting Benjamin's eyes over the top of her head and giving him a nod.

The three of them stood there for a long moment in silence, the only noise in the room coming from the breathing equipment and heart monitors around the bed, the tone of it almost mocking, as though trying to tell them that no matter how hard they might try to pretend this was nothing but a nightmare, it was indeed very, very real.

Sarah Hatcher picked unenthusiastically at her dinner as she sat on the chair next to her husband who was staring intently at the TV. This is what every evening had been like for the past month at the Hatcher household; far be it from Sarah to pretend they were ever the Brady Bunch, but fuck it they could at least uphold a civil conversation. And now, she didn't even have that.

"I bumped into Angie in town today," she told him brightly.

"Who?" he grunted back, not even turning to face her.

"Oh you know," she nodded. "Angie Harper, I used to look after her little one years back, remember when he'd come round and play with Dylan?"

At the mention of their sons name, Tommy's back stiffened as it always did and he tightened his grip on his fork, stabbing the battered fish on his plate.

"I don't remember 'im," he mumbled.

"'Course you do," Sarah laughed. "Little fella with the bright red 'air," she smiled. "He used to be a right little bugger, 'im and Dylan together were trouble, between the two of 'em I used to be at my wits end most of the time,"

What she didn't add on to that sentence was that given the chance, she'd sell her very soul for one more day of it; one more day of picking up dirty socks and yelling at him to turn his music down. Tears stung her eyes and she quickly went back to dissecting her over cooked chips.

"Angie mentioned someone else as well," she spoke quietly.

"Yeah?" Tommy shrugged. "Who was that then?"

"That young Dunham lad," Sarah saw his head snap around out of the corner of her eye but didn't dare look back at him.

"You what?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"Angie's oldest daughter used to go to school with Lucy Evans, her brother Ike is in with all those boys," she clarified.

"Right," Tommy leant forward. "No we've gone and got that little history lesson out the way, d'you fancy telling me what she said?"

"He's in hospital," she looked at her husband and swallowed hard. "Beaten within an inch of his life almost a month back now, apparently. She…she mentioned that he might never wake up,"

"Shame that," Tommy shrugged and cast his eyes back to the TV.

"It was a month ago you had to have your hand stitched up, wasn't it?" Sarah asked.

"Don't start with me," Tommy warned her. "I'm in no fucking mood,"

"Jesus, you won't even bother trying to deny it, will you?" she whispered, shocked.

"Why the fuck would I?" he snapped. "The little cunt 'ad it coming,"

"Jesus, Tommy," Sarah cried, picking up her plate and walking back into the small kitchen, dumping her dinner in the bin and preparing to wash up her dishes. He was standing in the doorway staring at her, but she wouldn't look at him. Right now, she couldn't look at him.

"I never knew you were so fond of 'im," he snapped. "Should I be worried,"

"He's a bloody kid, Tommy!" she shook her head, scrubbing the plate harder. "He's what? 23? 24? What if he dies? His blood will be on your hands!"

"The same way he's got Dylan's blood on his?" Tommy shouted. "Or are you forgetting that?"

"Forgetting it?" she screamed. "He was my boy," she cried. "My little boy and he got taken away from me, how can you stand there and ask me that?" she could feel the bubbles from the washing up sliding down her arms and pooling on the floor, but she didn't care. "But that lad had nothing to do with it! He would 'ave been about 14 at the time, Tommy. And even if it was him, I don't care! Because no matter how many people you beat up, no matter how much you make Steve Dunham suffer, Dylan isn't coming back!"

Tommy surged forward, ripping the wet plate out of her hands and throwing it to the floor, grabbing his wife by the throat and pinning her against the wall.

"Now you listen 'ere," he whispered harshly. "You know nothing about what goes on with those lads. You reckon you feel sorry for him, yeah? Petey Dunham is a piece of shit who deserves everything he gets and if that means he dies, then so fucking be it, because I won't be shedding any fucking tears. D'you realise that if Dylan hadn't been killed by his brother and those cunts, that he'd be the same age as Pete by now?"

"And do you realise that if you hadn't taken him to that match, to that fucking fight in the first place, Dylan would still be alive right now?" she hissed.

The hit although expected, came quicker than she had anticipated and her head caught on the corner of the counter as she fell to the floor lying there for a second and feeling the blood trickling down her face. Tommy stared at her for a long moment as she pulled herself up right and laughed sadly.

"Big man Hatcher," she shook her head. "Always the first to start throwing punches even if its against his own wife," she snorted. "Or his niece for that matter," she caught the faint trace of shock in his eyes. "What? You thought Sophie wouldn't tell me what you did to her?" Pulling herself to her feet, she gripped the counter for support when she swayed lightly. "You know something? I'm almost glad Dylan's dead, because if his only other option was to end up like you, then six feet under is the best place for him,"

Stumbling past him, she walked as quickly as what she suspected was her concussion would let her. Reaching the bathroom, she quickly bolted herself in before collapsing down onto the edge of the bath tub and gathering a handful of tissue to press against her head. She jumped as the banging on the door started up, Tommy's fist hitting it so hard that the lock began to rattle in protest.

"Sarah!" he shouted. "Open this fucking door, now!"

Shaking her head, she sank to the floor and rested her head on her knees, knowing all to well after being with the man for 17 years that once Tommy Hatcher had something in his head he wouldn't stop until he got it. Which is why as she sat there in the small, dingy bathroom clinging to her necklace in which sat a photo of her son, she said a silent prayer for Pete Dunham.

So there you have it...hope it was ok, I'm relying on you to let me know if it wasn't...yes, that's yet another hint to review. :) Subtle, aren't I?