Anniversary

I'm excited about Carla/Peter so thought I'd try my first fanfic. I'd love to see more of Peter's emotions about the tramcrash & his and Carla's feelings on what happened & what could have. So that's what I've written: constructive feedback welcome!

Part 1

Peter leaned back against the wall of the bookies, taking a long drag on his cigarette. The day had felt never-ending, and Leanne had picked up on his volatile mood. She kept glancing over, appearing about to speak but then holding back. It didn't seem worth explaining himself: it never did these days.

But today was very significant. December 5th. Tomorrow would be a year since that night, the night he almost died. Now, alone for a moment, he let his mind drift back again. His memories were patchy, but some things incredibly vivid: the sudden explosion that threw him to the ground, lying in the rubble, the acrid smell of smoke, Ashley and Nick helping him to safety, the intense pain in his legs and chest. But most of all, his fierce determination to marry his - seemingly doting - fiancée that night, even as his body began to fail. The irony of his misplaced loyalty sickened him.

His wedding day had so nearly been his last moments of life. Reliving the emotions, his whole body tensed up, his fists clenching. He shivered involuntarily, and took another angry drag of his cigarette. This rage wasn't healthy, and if anything it was getting worse as the anniversary approached.

When he opened his eyes again, there she was. Carla. Not far away, and walking towards him. She'd been back from LA a while, and although they'd chatted sometimes, he'd yet to find a chance to see her alone. If he was honest, he feared what would happen if he did. But this felt harmless enough. He checked no-one could see him, then let himself admire her as he finished his cigarette and flicked it to the ground.

"Hi there" he called over as she came nearer.

"All right?" she shouted back. She looked stunning this afternoon, he had to admit. Almost back to her old self, although he could still see the underlying vulnerability. But hadn't that always been there: he'd just learnt to see past her tough facade.

"Not bad – off somewhere special tonight?"

"Life of glamour, me", she replied sarcastically. "Night on the sofa with a box of chocolates."

He smiled, wishing they could talk properly. But he'd already been outside nearly 10 minutes, and dreaded Leanne coming out, and more accusations.

"Enjoy then, eh. See you at the memorial tomorrow?" He tried to keep his voice casual.

"Oh yeah." She became serious. "Big day for you isn't it. I'll be there." She got into her car. He found it strange seeing her drive again, but at least her drinking seemed under control now.

Stepping back into the bookies, he found Leanne putting her coat on.

"Closing up already, love?" he said. "It's only twenty past"

"Did you forget, I'm out with Stella tonight." she replied, a slight edge to her voice.
He sighed, realising he'd not registered anything she'd said that afternoon. Another apology to make.

"Sorry Lee. Have fun. Shall I collect Simon from chess club then?"

"No, it's OK. I'll pick him up – it's on my way back. The mood you've been in today, you'd forget anyway. See you at half eight"

He kissed her goodbye as she hurried out the door.

Peter worked a bit longer, then closed up the bookies. Guiltily, he felt exhilarated at the thought of three hours to himself. But as soon as he was in the flat, his mind started racing again back to the tram crash. Carla had been devastated that night too. He remembered her standing over the hospital bed, her grief, her tears. Although she'd seemed fine just now, she might still be finding her memories hard. Maybe she'd be reliving everything too, alone this evening.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he grabbed his jacket and left. He had over two hours until Leanne would come home, and he knew where he needed to be.

Part 2

Although Carla was obviously surprised when he arrived at her flat, she couldn't hide her pleasure to see him.

"Jealous of my chocolate truffles then?" she teased.

"My latest addiction…" he replied. She smiled grimly. Addiction: the one thing he couldn't deny that they shared.

"I was home alone. Thought I'd see how you are." He felt an impulse to hug her, but she didn't seem to need comforting any more. He was glad she was coping now, but why did he feel like he'd lost something?

She led him to the sofa and sat down, quite far from him, he noticed.

"Much better thanks. Still some bad days – well, awful – but getting further apart. And today's been one of the OK ones." She paused for a moment. "So I'm done with self-pity, for now. But I wanted to thank you for your support back then."

He tried to shrug it off, but she stopped him.

"You were a star. As always. But you're officially off the hook now. Reckon I might be sane after all – well, if I ever were." She caught his eye and he smiled.

"And you Peter? Summat getting to you? All this memorial stuff?"

Her directness took him by surprise.

"I'm OK, don't worry about me" he said. She looked intently at him, and he suddenly felt the urge to be honest, just for once that day.

"Well, no. I'm struggling a bit" he confessed. "Turns out once I started thinking about last year, you know, the explosion and everything, it won't stop. It's been running round my head for hours."

"Oh Peter." Her eyes filled with sympathy. Of all people, he knew she understood, having relived her many traumas over and over again.

He finally started opening up.

"I was so scared, Carla. I thought it was all over for me. When I could barely get a word out, when I thought I was on my final breaths, all I wanted... ." He could feel the emotion coming out in his voice, but refused to stop.

"All I wanted was to marry the woman I trusted most in the world. Watched on by dad and Deirdre. You and Nick nearby." She nodded, stricken.

Peter's anger had returned. "And you all knew!" he said, his voice harsh. "You all knew the marriage was based on a lie."

She couldn't look at him now. Maybe he had gone too far. His emotions were too raw to have this conversation, especially with her. "I almost wasted my last breath on a lie!" he cried, realising how much he'd suppressed the hurt he felt, even after trying to forgive Leanne.

As he paused, his anger subsided and he felt tears welling up. He buried his head in his hands, ashamed, starting to weep silently. He sensed Carla was hesitating, but in a few moments, he felt her shift to sit beside him on the sofa. Her arms moved around him, cradling him like a child. He leaned his head against her shoulder. She said nothing, but just held him close as he finally let out his anguish.

Part 3

After a couple of minutes, Peter felt much calmer. Still in her arms, he raised his head, noticing tears on her cheek. So she had also cried. She felt so supportive and comforting, and he realised he was in danger of never wanting to leave. Reluctantly he pulled away, feeling the chill of the winter air again on his skin, missing her warmth.

"I'm sorry, Carla. Last thing either of us needed was me like that!"

"Hey, don't even think that. After all the times you've helped me. I'm always here for you as a shoulder to cry on." She smiled. "Not even just literally."

He suddenly felt guilty: yet another secret he'd have to keep from his wife. Making his excuses, he went to the bathroom to wash his face and get back in control.

When he returned, he was surprised to see it was still only 7.30, so he accepted her offer of a drink hoping it would clear the air. They sat again at either end of the sofa, but the tension of his recent emotion still lingered.

After a few minutes of small-talk, he felt the need to ask the question he'd never asked.

"Carla. Can I ask you something... but you don't have to answer?" She looked uneasy, but nodded.

"If you wanted me so much back then, why didn't you tell me the truth?"

….