A/N: Trigger warning: there are very brief references to suicide attempts in one line of this chapter.

Michelle clutched the warm mug of freshly brewed coffee tightly as she gazed out over the misty fields of Devon. From her spot on the balcony of Carla's spare bedroom, she could just about make out the sea on the horizon, waves lapping lazily over the sand. There was a peaceful quiet in the air, broken only by the whispered conversation Carla was having on the phone in the garden below, unaware of her friend listening in from above.

"Is it that bad?" Carla whispered into the phone.

"Place is absolutely swarming with police. They're asking everyone they see for eyewitness accounts." Peter's voice usually came as a comfort to Carla, but she could clearly hear the edge in it today.

"Have they spoken to you?"

"Yeah, caught me leaving the flat this morning..."

"And what did you tell them?"

"Well, the truth. I didn't leave the pub until the early hours, and went straight home. I didn't see anything. Don't worry, babe, they're not looking for you. No one knows you're gone." Carla breathed a sigh of relief.

"What about Michelle?" She asked, dreading the answer she knew was coming. She heard Peter sigh on the other end of the line.

"They're pretty convinced it was her, yeah..."

"Right..."

"Babe, I'm getting in the car now. I'll be with you just after lunch. Hang in there, I'll sort this. I promise. I love you."

"I love you..." She whispered, as he hung up the phone.

By now, Michelle had made her way downstairs and was stood in the doorway that led inside to the kitchen. Carla spotted her, and just about managed to muster up a sympathetic smile. Michelle remained stone faced.

"Can I ring Ali?" She said, her voice small and child-like. Carla shook her head.

"I don't think that's a good idea, babe..."

"Does he hate me?"

"Of course not, Chelle!" Carla took Michelle's hand and led her back inside, closing the door behind them. She sat her down at the kitchen table, and started pouring more coffee.

"What about Ryan?"

"Chelle. Stop worrying. Everything is going to be fine..." She lied. Michelle wasn't convinced. Carla sat down opposite her, placing the now refilled mugs on the table. They sat in silence for a while, neither one of them knowing what to say. Michelle glanced around the kitchen. Nothing much had changed since she was last here. The dead cactus on the window sill, the one cracked tile in the middle of the kitchen floor, the calendar hanging on the wall above the table that hadn't had its page turned since Carla had moved in in 2016. It had all been so comforting before, and yet now it felt like the walls were closing in.

"Can we go for a walk?" She asked. Carla looked up from her mug, surprised by her friends request.

"Sure," She said, "Where do you wanna go?"

"I don't care. I just can't sit here stewing for much longer..."

Carla reached across the table and took her friends hand in her own. She gave it a reassuring squeeze as she tried to comfort her.

"I'm scared, Car..." She whispered, her eyes wide and glossy with tears.

"I promise I am not going to let anything happen to you." Carla responded, keeping her gaze locked. And she meant it. Whatever happened next, there was no way Carla would let Michelle go without a fight. But deep down she knew that saving her from the police was not the only issue. She could already sense the guilt beginning to creep over Michelle, and she knew better than anyone what those feelings could do to someone. She knew that it was only a matter of time before she'd have to save Michelle from herself.

She took a quick sip of coffee, before rising to her feet.

"Well, I'd better get changed if we're going for a walk..." She said, giving Michelle a quick smile, and a reassuring rub of the shoulder as she passed.

—-

The two women had wandered aimlessly along the cliff top, arms linked in solidarity, for the best part of nearly three hours. Carla felt Michelle shivering beside her and, unsure whether or not this was simply because of the November chill in the air, pulled her even closer.

"I think it's time we got back, don't you?" She said. Michelle nodded, absently. Carla stopped walking. "Hey, talk to me?"

Michelle met her friends concerned gaze. She didn't know where to start. She sighed.

"Everything just feels so wrong..." She began, lip quivering. They began to walk again, taking a right down the narrow path that would ultimately lead them in a circle back to Carla's cottage. "Running away to Devon in the middle of the night, not being able to talk to anyone. It just seems so surreal. Like a horrible nightmare. This sort of thing doesn't happen to people like me, Carla. Yesterday, I was the proud co-owner of a Bistro, engaged to the love of my life, with everything finally back on track. And today I'm a murderer on the run..."

"No, Chelle. It was an accident. You're not a murderer, you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Then why can't we go home, and I'll explain it to the police."

Carla sighed. "Chelle. They won't see it like that. They'll think you did it on purpose, out of revenge or something, and they will lock you up."

"Maybe that's what I deserve." Michelle stated, forlornly. Carla stopped, and took her friends face in her hands.

"Listen to me, right. You are the last person on this earth that deserves that, do you understand me? We are not going to let yet another man ruin your life, okay? Especially not Robert Preston..." Michelle was crying by this point, wracked with guilt and terror.

"I loved him, Carla. Why did I do it? Why didn't I ring an ambulance straight away?"

"Because you were scared, Chelle." Carla comforted, linking arms with her friend and beginning to walk again.

They continued to walk in silence, the events of the previous night playing over and over in Michelle's mind. How could she have been so stupid? She wished she hadn't let him worm his way back into her life all those months ago. She wished she could push all of the good memories out of her head. That way, maybe she wouldn't feel so guilty. She wished she could forget about all the good times they'd had together, all the things he'd done for her. She wished...

"I wish he hadn't stopped me jumping off that bridge..." She stated, coldly. Carla stopped, stunned by her friends sudden outburst.

"Oh god, Chelle, you can't think like that. You will get through this, I promise!"

"Carla, I've killed someone. One of the only people in the world who truly loved me, and I killed him. I don't think I can live with that."

"Michelle, listen to me. He didn't love you. If he loved you he wouldn't have slept with Vicky. But I love you Chelle, more than anything. And I need you. I promise we will sort this..." Carla pleaded, pulling Michelle into a tight hug, not wanting to let go.

"I don't know what I'd do without you..." Michelle whispered, pulling away. Carla wiped away a tear from her friends cheek.

"You won't have to find out."

As the winding country path brought them back through the gate to Carla's front drive, they found Peter perched on the bonnet of his car, cigarette in one hand, phone in the other. He was furiously typing a message, and didn't look up until he'd sent it. The ding from Carla's pocket caused him to turn and look at them.

"You're here then..." Carla joked, weakly, gesturing to her pocket. No one laughed. Instead, Peter glared coldly at Michelle, who was looking firmly at the ground.

"What were you both thinking?" He sighed, exasperated.

"Not now, Peter..." Carla warned, nodding subtly to Michelle. Peter rolled his eyes, but kept his mouth shut. She unlocked the front door of her cottage and guided them both inside, slamming it shut and firmly locking it behind them. She turned to Michelle.

"Why don't you head upstairs and get some kip, hey, babe? I don't know about you but that walk's really taken it out of me." She encouraged, rubbing her arm.

"What, so you can talk about me with him?" Carla looked guiltily at Peter. "You know what, yeah, whatever. Have your little chat. I'll be upstairs, laying awake, thinking about what a terrible person I am. Nice to see you, Peter." And with that she stormed upstairs.

"She always was a drama queen..." Carla laughed nervously, as she led Peter into the kitchen, softly shutting the door behind them, in an attempt to save her friend from the cold words that she knew were about to fly around the kitchen.

"What are you playing at, Car?" He said softly, taking her by surprise.

"What do you mean? I-"

"Carla. This isn't a game, okay? This is serious. A man is dead because of her!" He whispered, pointing aggressively towards the ceiling, where, in the room above, Michelle was curled up in a ball on the bed, sobbing into her pillow.

Carla's phone began to ring. Peter threw her a questioning glance. She pulled it out of her pocket and laid it on the table. Peter glanced at the screen, and sighed.

"And how many times has he tried to ring you?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. Carla shrugged.

"Too many..."

"And have you answered?"

She shook her head. With that the ringing stopped.

"He deserves answers, Carla."

"Yes, I know that, but I just can't risk it, can I?"

A notification popped up on the screen and Carla sighed.

6 New Messages.

Picking up the phone, she dialled the number to access her voicemails. Ensuring speakerphone had been selected, she placed the phone back on the table.

"6 new messages. Message 1:

Um, Hi Carla, Ali here. Just wondering if you know where mum is? There's something going on at the flat and I can't get through to her... So yeah, ring me when you get this.

Message deleted. Message 2:

Carla, me again. I'm really worried now. No one's seen mum, and the flats been blocked off by police. Just please, if you know where she is, just get her to call me, yeah?

Message deleted. Message 3:

Carla, where the hell are you? I've just been to yours so I know you're not there, don't even bother lying to me. Robert's dead. I swear to god, if whoever did this has gone after mum and you haven't told me... Just please ring me and let me know she's safe.

Message deleted. Message 4:

Everyone's saying mum's done it, but she wouldn't, would she? She hasn't got it in her. If you ring me back and tell me that she's with you then I'll know she's safe. So just please, give us a call.

Message deleted. Message 5:

Please Carla, I know she's with you. She has to be. Everyone's out of their minds with worry. We all just want you both to come home safe. The police just want to ask her a few questions, that's all. If you don't answer then I'll know you're hiding something.

Message deleted. Message 6:

Carla... Whatever she's scared of, I know it won't have been her fault... She wouldn't hurt a fly... Not on purpose... Just tell her I know how she's feeling, and get her to give me a ring. Cheers...

End of messages."

"God Carla, he's going out of his mind!"

Carla rubbed her eyes, the exhaustion of carrying such a heavily weighted secret finally beginning to take its toll. "She wanted to ring him earlier, but I just couldn't risk her blabbing it to him over the phone..." She sighed. "We need a plan..."

Peter pulled out a chair from under the wooden table and gestured for Carla to sit down. She did, and he quickly followed suit.

"I've been in contact with a mate who reckons he can get Michelle over to France by tomorrow morning. The less you know about it the better. All you need to know is that we need to be in Plymouth by five."

Carla glanced at the clock on the wall. It was 10 past one. As she contemplated what he'd said, she came to a sudden realisation.

"Just Michelle? I'm sorry, Peter, but I can't just leave her on her own, not in the state she's in..."

"Carla, sweetheart. You can't be expected to carry this burden on your own. Michelle is an adult, she can handle herself."

"You haven't seen the state of her! Peter, I'm the closest thing to a sister she has. I'm not going to let her down when she needs me the most!"

"What, like she did, you mean?" Peter stated, his frustration evident.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Carla said, exasperated.

"Where was she when you were going through hell after the roof collapse, hey? Playing happily families with Kate and Johnny while you were-"

"That's enough, Peter!" Carla snapped. Peter sighed.

"She let you down, Carla. I just don't understand why you're the one that has to pick up the pieces every time her life falls apart, when she couldn't do the same for you!"

Carla noticed Peter's hand resting on the table. She took it in her own and offered him a reassuring smile.

"And how many people do you think thought that about us when the roof collapsed?"

Peter took a moment to consider what his partner had just said. She was right. Numerous people had questioned Peter's loyalty to the woman they branded a murderer. Maybe this situation wasn't quite so different.

"Okay, maybe you're right. But, I can't come with you, I've got Simon to think about..."

"It's okay, babe. I'll only stay a couple of weeks, until she's settled, and then I'll come back. It'll give me a chance to think about what I'm going to say to the police when they no doubt want to question me..."

Carla let her head fall into her hands as the weight of the situation dawned on her once more. Peter stood up, approaching her cautiously. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a strong but delicate embrace. She allowed her head to rest on his chest, inhaling the musky scent of his aftershave.

"And there's absolutely no way I can convince you to drop all this and come home with me right now?" He whispered into her hair, planting a light kiss on the top of her head. She sighed.

"I'm sorry, babe. She needs me."

They remained in that position for a long time, holding each other, neither one wanting to let the other go. They broke apart only when Michelle crept into the room almost an hour later.

Peter straightened up, clearing his throat.

"Did that nap do you any good?" He asked, trying his best to make civil conversation.

"I couldn't sleep." She replied bluntly. Carla noticed her red and puffy eyes as she took a seat beside her.

"Have you been crying?" She whispered, gently stroking her friends hair, tucking a loose strand carefully behind her ear.

"When can I speak to Ali or Ryan?" She asked, ignoring the question. Her voice was tired and croaky.

"I tell you what: I'll speak to Ali and Ryan as soon as I get back. Tell them that you're safe and not to worry." Peter suggested, hoping desperately that she'd take the bait.

"You're going back?" She asked, clearly confused by what he could possibly be doing here if it wasn't to run away with them.

"Peter's going back to Weatherfield, yeah, but not until he's seen us safely off to France." Carla explained.

"France..." Michelle muttered, clearly trying to make sense of everything. "But aren't we going to need passports?"

Carla glanced up at Peter, a look of horror plastered across her face. She'd assumed that when told to pack her bag, Michelle would have guessed a passport would be vital. She mentally scolded herself for not making it clear enough.

"Have you got yours?" He asked her. She nodded. "Then it's fine. My mate sorted a fake one for her, just in case the search had gone country wide..." Carla just nodded again. She didn't even want to know how Peter had made friends with someone who could attain fake passports at the drop of a hat.

"We need to think about heading off," He continued, "Give me your phone, I'll go get rid of it. I'll get you a new one with just my number in on the way, for emergencies. They might be able to track this one. I'll be back within an hour." He leant down, and planted a kiss on Carla's cheek. Grabbing her phone off the table, he left the house.

"You've got a gooden there..." Michelle stated, taking Carla by surprise. Usually, Peter and Michelle wouldn't have a good word to say about each other. Granted, over the last few months they'd become slightly more tolerable of each other, but she'd never expected a compliment directed towards her partner to ever come out of Michelle's mouth. The statement brought a smile to her lips.

"Yeah," She murmured, "I have..."

—-

Peter sat in his car at the cliff edge, Carla's phone in his hand. He was satisfied that he'd driven far enough away from the house so as not to be traced back. His fingers hovered over the buttons, knowing that what he was planning to do next would go completely against everything she'd asked of him. He hated going behind her back, but this time he was convinced it was for the best. He knew what it felt like to have someone you love just disappear. He couldn't leave Ali in suspense any longer. He opened the car door, and stepped out into the crisp November air. Taking a deep breath, he pressed call.

He answered after just one ring.

"Carla?" Ali asked, his voice awash with relief.

"No Ali, it's me, Peter..."

"Peter? Oh right. Is mum there?"

"Not right now, no. But she's safe." He heard Ali breathe a heavy sigh of relief.

"She's safe!" He heard him call, presumably to the family. "Peter, please tell us she had nothing to do with what happened to Robert..."

Peter took another deep breath.

"No, of course not! God no!" He lied, "She just... Needed to get away for a bit..."

"Because of Vicky and the baby?"

"Yeah... Because of that..." He heard another sigh of relief.

"So she must have been gone before he died. Thank god she didn't have to witness it."

But Peter wasn't really listening. There was something significant still playing on his mind. Something that Carla had clearly overlooked, but that he couldn't shake off. It made him feel uneasy.

"Ali?" He asked, his voice lowered. Ali could sense his change of tone.

"Yeah?"

"What did you mean when you said you knew how she felt?"

There was silence on the other end of the line.

"Ali?"

"Can I see her?" He asked, avoiding the question.

"I don't know. What did you mean, Ali?"

After a long pause, Ali spoke.

"Something happened, towards the end of last year. Mum was there for me when no one else was, and I just feel like I should be there for her now... You know, what with her fiancé dying under suspicious circumstances..."

"Right..." Peter mumbled, feeling less enlightened and more conflicted than ever. He knew that all Michelle wanted was to be with her sons, and all they wanted was to be with her. "Ali. I'm about to do something incredibly stupid. If this gets into the wrong hands it will ruin everything..."

"Peter, what are you talking about?" Ali asked, clearly confused.

"I'm going to send you a text. I want you to memorise what it says, and then delete it immediately. Do you understand me?"

"Yes..."

"And then I'm going to get rid of this phone so you won't be able to contact us again..."

"Okay..."

"Ali?"

"Yes?"

"Your mum really needs you. Both of you. Please don't let her down."

And with that, he hung up the phone, and with trembling fingers typed out the french address. With one final sigh, he tossed the phone over the edge and watched as it splashed into the water below.