A/N: This is my first go at fan fiction, but I've had this idea since the Carter scene on 26/12/17 aired. First chapter is from Carla's perspective/stream of consciousness.

An Encounter

Chapter 1

Carla's p.o.v:

It's funny how one minute I was bantering with Michelle, Aidan and Yasmine; the next I was stood in front of a face of the past… Well, my past even.

Being faced with him. Unexpectedly. I stood as rigid as a soldier, my whole body stiff. My blood ran cold as my mind flashed back to the life we once shared. Together.

It had been such a long time since our last encounter. Back then I had the sassy one-liners, the confident bravado – never struggling to come up with a quick-witted conversation starter. But now, I felt stunned into silence. I had so much to say to him, and yet no words escaped my lips, other than a pathetic little 'hi', to which he mirrored. 'You look well', I politely added, while mentally kicking myself. I surprised myself with this comment… Carla Connor attempting small talk. Who would've seen that coming? Certainly not Michelle, anyway, as I gaged her reaction out of the corner of my eye. I felt the urge, the desire almost to invite him to have breakfast with Michelle and I at Roy's – where we were headed before bumping into him. The notion to ask him seemed so natural; if only the words had been there. If I'd had the courage to ask him. But I couldn't. I was rendered incapable as he stood before me. A face that I had believed would forever remain in the past. I think I was in initial shock. I was shocked as it dawned on me that we had moved on, or life had… We were in entirely different chapters of our lives. As I glimpsed at him, my heart was sent into a frenzy. My racing heartbeat made my attempt at an amiable conversation all the more laboured and strained.

As the seconds passed, I became more aware of the dying conversation. Yet I didn't have the heart to walk away. There was something telling me to salvage this moment. While my mind was tortured with this lingering thought, my stomach flipped as I noticed the expression on his face. Even he didn't seem to expect our brief encounter. His dumbfounded disposition explained this; his lack of dialogue also seemed to emphasised this. He didn't need to say anything. I just knew.

I became hypnotised by his eyes; slowly being drawn in by them… Chocolate brown. Endearing. I never could resist them. I felt weak as I gazed into them; something those eyes had the power to do. Even now... And as I looked into my ex-lover's eyes, it made me realise how different things could have been... Perhaps in another life... And yet, while I briefly considered this, I didn't feel bitter. How could I? It was a long time ago.

In an attempt to sustain the conversation, I congratulated him on becoming a dad again. He had little to say on the matter, and before I knew it he was making his excuses and walking away from me, without a proper farewell, as if I were a stranger. He plodded along, travelling down the dreary cobbles; reflecting the thudding of my heart. My breath hitched in my throat as I turned to see where he was headed. But before I even had the chance to drink in his silhouette, he had vanished.

Had it not been for this stilted encounter, it wouldn't have occurred to me just how small Coronation Street was, which seemed extremely naïve as I was no stranger to the street. There was nowhere to hide. Therefore, it increased my chances of seeing him again. I was hoping sooner rather than later.

My thoughts were brought to a halt when I heard Chelle commenting on how awkward that had been: for her, or for me? Nevertheless, I succeeded in brushing her off, for now. However, the companionable silence that followed only encouraged me to overthink more and more into the re-encounter that had just played out.

It plagued my thoughts for the rest of day - Peter's demeanour. How distant he appeared. I was a tad let down by his lack of enthusiasm to see me. To appear so withdrawn – it just wasn't him… Or at least the man I had once known. Something was niggling at me, telling me there was something wrong. Was he drinking again? It concerned me. If he was, it certainly wouldn't be the first time he'd fallen off the wagon. He looked like a man who was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. This was evident in his physical appearance. He looked unkempt: unshaven, wearing a tracksuit, and donning a baseball cap. Where was his signature leather jacket? He barely resembled the man I had once passionately fallen in love with; the man I had wholeheartedly wanted to spend the rest of my life with; the only man I ever married out of genuine love. Although I can't say that it was always perfect. There were certainly some dark and testing times inflicted on us, but I had always convinced myself that all that was thrown at us made us tenacious; defined us as a couple. Even so, I had my limits… An affair and a murder inquiry was just too much strain on our marriage. It broke me to walk away, but I was hurt. No, in fact scrub that, I'm still hurting. I'd obviously just learned at how to cope. I'd managed to put a sticking plaster over my heartache. Until today. Since being reunited with Peter, the plaster was instantaneously torn from the wound it had been covering, bringing everything back up to the surface.

Perhaps if he were out of sight he'd be out of mind I'd be able to block those feelings out. That I'd be able to pretend everything that happened hadn't actually happened to me... Who was I kidding though? I'd only be lying to myself. Of course he entered my thoughts from time to time. How couldn't he after all we'd been through? November was always tough. It was the hardest. It made me reflect over the past. That was the month in which our baby girl would have been born, had she lived. I often thought of her: where she was now, and where she should be. The what could-have been... These last three years should have been filled with love, laughter and fun. Showing my girl off to the world, whether it had been with or without Peter. I've always wondered if he ever harbours the same tortured thoughts… -

'Carla…. Carla…. Carla…. Earth to Carla'. My thoughts were interrupted by Michelle. As she brought me back to the present, I realised where I was. Roy's Rolls, having breakfast. I glanced down at the mug of coffee and full English breakfast that sat before me, noticing it for the first time. I saw Michelle's plate in front of her, the only difference being her plate had been cleared.

'Sorry, Chelle. I was miles away.'

'You alright babe?'

'Why wouldn't I be', I swerved the question.

'You haven't touched any of your food. Your coffee… it's cold'.

'Just been a bit distracted. I'm fine'.

The rest of the day, Peter dominated my thoughts. Everywhere I looked, all I could see was his face. Even when I bowled into bed that night. As soon as I closed my eyes all I could see was him. All I could see was Peter Barlow. He was haunting my thoughts. It began to make me wonder more about his wellbeing... the ungroomed and exhausted face I saw early that day. It worried me a little. Was he happy? He had looked far from it. Perhaps it was just the shock of seeing me. I certainly felt it; and I couldn't blame him for feeling the same way… All these thoughts buzzed in my head, disrupting me from some much needed sleep. My stomach flipping just as it had earlier, when the constant thoughts of Peter Barlow flooded my mind, making me realise that I had to stick around. As much as I wanted to run – something I was pretty good at doing – I had to remain in Weatherfield. There were so many reasons I needed to be here. I needed people around me. I needed a distraction. I needed Roy, my family, Peter. I grimaced, feeling slightly uneasy that he had abruptly become a reason to stay. After an all-but-two second conversation… If you could even call it a conversation. But I had more important things to worry about. And I couldn't continue hating him forever. That would be mentally and physically exhausting... Especially if I was going to be bumping into him more often. I couldn't run now. My heart, my body, my mind wouldn't be able to take it. I couldn't walk away. Now that he'd managed to re-enter my life, I couldn't bear the thought of never seeing him again. Once was painful enough.