A/N Chapter 10 is finally here! We're into double figures ;) I didn't like how Carla and Peter seemed to be drifting further apart by the end of the last chapter, so I added some Carter loveliness to this one. Not much to say apart from thanks to all of those who are taking the time to review, it's greatly appreciated and if any of you have any thoughts please feel free to leave a review; I love reading what you have to say :') Apart from that, hope you enjoy!

Peter and Carla were lying on the sofa together, their bodies entwined, and their limbs fitted together perfectly like a jigsaw puzzle. For Carla, it was nature's way of telling her that they were meant to be together, and that Peter was the one man in her life who she could trust whole-heartedly. She had been let down by men so many times she couldn't count, but Peter wasn't going to turn into another of her psychotic exes. No, Peter would be there for her forever.

'I love you, Carla Connor' he whispered as he placed the strand of dark, glossy hair which he had been playing with affectionately behind her ear.

'I love you too, Peter Barlow.' She smiled as she mimicked him and placed her hand over his which rested on her ear. She sat up slightly so that she could look into his big, brown eyes. She winced slightly as her rib twinged, but she was too determined to look into his soul to care. Peter supported her as she moved to minimise the pain, and it just emphasised to her how amazing he was. 'I'm sorry I was so sharp with you earlier' she said as she stroked the side of his face, propping herself up on his chest with her other arm.

'Don't be silly, you've had a lot to deal with.' He wouldn't lie, it had hurt so much every time she tried to push him away and deal with it all herself. However, letting him join her with Anne earlier had been a massive step forwards for her and he was proud of her for that. But he knew how private Carla was, and how she hated people thinking of her as weak; that was who she was, and that was never going to change. In fact, Peter had all the admiration in the world for her; there weren't many people who could go through everything she had and come out the other side.

As Peter spoke, Carla gently hushed him, shook her head slowly and placed a finger on his lips. She didn't want him making excuses for her; he didn't deserve to have to go through all this. He'd done nothing wrong, and she wasn't going to let him suffer too on top of everything else. 'I still shouldn't have taken it out on you. Forgive me?' Her eyes were pleading, and it broke Peter's heart to think she needed forgiveness. He kissed her finger tenderly.

'I have nothing to forgive.' There was no need for words; Carla's facial expression said it all. She snuggled up against him once again, closing her eyes and feeling content for the first time in years. The silence which hung in the air was far from awkward as they both simply enjoyed each other's company, but there was something which had been bugging Peter all day. He took a deep breath as he braced himself for Carla's reaction, but it needed to be asked. 'You said something earlier about having people to see?'

'Yes...' she sighed heavily. She knew this would be coming at some point, but she wasn't sure Peter would understand. He tried his hardest, bless him, but nobody except her could possibly comprehend why she needed to do this. She debated about what to tell him, but she settled on the truth. 'I need to make sure Hayley's ok. I feel so guilty about her being dragged into all of this as well.' She twisted around one of the buttons on his shirt and let go, watching it swivel back to its original position before she could blink. If only everything could go back to normal so quickly...

'It was her choice to defy him, Carla. You have absolutely nothing to feel guilty for.'

'Peter, did you see that bruise?' The image of the purple discolouring which covered one side of Hayley's face flashed before her eyes and all she wanted to do was storm round there right now and make it up to her as much as possible. No amount of good deeds on her behalf to make up for her loyalty and bravery, but Carla was determined to try as hard as she could to at least slightly repay her.

'I did. I also saw the compassion in her eyes. She really cares for you, you know Carla. I would put money on her doing it all over again if she had to.' Hayley's loyalty even shocked Peter, but he did understand why they had the connection they did. He didn't know exactly what happened in the factory with Tony, but he didn't need to to understand the type of connection that must build. One day he would ask her, but he was fully aware that reliving another traumatic event in her life wasn't what she needed right now.

'She's amazing.' Carla felt she could never speak highly enough of her; all the compliments in the world would never do her justice. 'There's not one woman out there like Hayley Cropper; her heart is practically 24 carats.' Her voice trailed away slightly and she stared at the blank TV, making it evident there was something still on her mind. Peter was pretty sure he knew what it was.

'There's somebody else isn't there...' She considered lying and saying Hayley was the only person she wanted to see, but Peter had been so remarkable through all of this and he deserved the truth. He didn't have to go through it all too, he could have easily ended their relationship and left Carla to her own devises. But Peter was special, and it would have upset him too much to see her hurting.

'I need to see Sally.' Her voice was barely audible, but she knew he would have heard her.

'Carla...' he sighed as he stroked her jet black hair. He couldn't understand why she'd want to put herself in a situation like that; seeing Hayley was one thing, but Hayley was the most gentle, loyal person on the street. Sally could be extremely hurtful, and had said and done numerous spiteful things towards Carla the past few months.

'No, I need her to know that I don't hold it against her.'

'I beg your pardon?' He stopped stroking her hair as he struggled to take in what Carla was saying. Sally had helped Frank destroy her, yet she was willing to just let it all go? No, he must be mistaken... Carla didn't have to read his mind to know exactly what he was thinking.

'Peter, she was his victim too...'

'Hardly!' Victim? Some of the things she had said to Carla had been horrendous. Sally didn't have to say those things; she didn't have to take Frank's side. If she was a victim of anything it was her own stupidity, not of his evil nature.

'Listen, darling,' She put her hand on his chest and felt as his heart thudded at a rapid pace. She placed her head on his heart and listened carefully to each beat; all she wanted was to feel close to him. 'It would be hypocritical of me not to forgive her.'

'How did you work that one out?' He might've known it would have something to do with her own actions. What Frank had done had shattered her self-confidence to pieces, and now she looked upon herself as somewhat subtly inferior to everyone else. Everything was always her fault, everything she did was always wrong... However, Carla had her own reasons, and she wanted Peter to understand.

'Frank manipulated me too, remember. Or have you forgotten how I got into a relationship with him after he attacked Maria?' She was still so consumed with guilt over the way she had acted towards her all those months ago. Maria had told her not to dwell on it, that it didn't matter and it was all in the past, but Carla knew there was no way she could fully forgive her for what she did. There would always be a part of Maria which resented Carla for what she did, especially on top of everything with Liam too. However, she couldn't have asked for more support from her, and now it was time for her to show that kindness to Sally.

'That was different though, Car'' he tried to reason. True, Maria's case hadn't been as black and white as Carla's, but the situation was similar enough for her.

'Maybe, but it's how I feel so can you at least respect that?' she begged him.

'Of course, baby.' He spoke in hushed, comforting tones, planting a few kisses on the top of her head before taking another deep breath. 'Of course...'

Anne sat at the table nervously, fiddling with the ends of her scarf. It was the scarf Frank had bought her many, many years ago, which she had kept as a reminder of him. She'd barely worn it; she would keep it on the side of her dressing table mirror and admire it ever day as she was getting ready. However, today she needed to feel close to the boy she loved so dearly.

As she reminisced over the beautiful memories of her beautiful boy, she wondered how things had turned out like this. Frank had always been so kind and caring, and she didn't want to believe he had changed. She wanted to believe him, she really did, but there were things which just didn't add up; his confession, her broken rib, the "witnesses".

'Mum.' She dropped back to reality with a thud, and she looked up towards him. He looked different. She searched for physical changes, but the only thing she could find was the scrape which travelled from below the eye, all the way down to the corner of his mouth. There was something different about his eyes too, but she couldn't work out what.

'Frank' she stuttered as she tried to block her thoughts and focus on savouring the little time she had with her son. She composed herself as he lowered himself into the chair, his body movements so smooth it was almost menacing. 'How are you?' Despite her fear and nausea, Anne managed to keep her tone calm and controlled. She forced a smile, but Frank wasn't in the mood for niceties.

'I'm inside, Mum' he snapped. 'How do you reckon I am?' His eyes, which had previously been straying around the room, snapped toward his mother. The eye contact made her feel uncomfortable, and she visibly recoiled and backed down.

'Sorry.' She hadn't meant to say it, but it just slipped out. There was something in the way he had looked at her which had told her not to pursue it. An awkward silence followed, but curiosity got the better of her. 'How did you get that?' she asked him, nodding towards the nasty cut on his face, hoping he hadn't made enemies inside already.

'That cow scratched me' he spat as he remembered the wild look in her eyes as she fought in desperation.

'Who? Carla?' Why was he talking in riddles?

'Of course Carla, who else?'

'Why did she scratch you?'

'Oh for...' he sighed. How stupid could she be? He leant back in his chair and looked around the room as he tried to get his head around her naivety. After a long silence, he shifted forward in his chair and leaned over towards his mother, looking her square in the eyes in the hope it would finally sink in. 'You do know I've confessed, right?'

'Of course I do! Not that I understand why...' Frank could tell she was about to go on with one of her lectures, like he was five years old again. He interjected quickly, not being able to bear her gullibility for another second.

'Because I did it Mum!' His raised voice caught the attention of everybody in the room, but they all returned to their conversations quite quickly. Frank decided to lower his voice, but it was chilling and menacing. 'Do you understand now? Is it finally through that thick skull of yours? I. Did. It.'

'You...actually?' Oh, hallelujah! She'd known the truth for some time in the back of her mind, but denial had set in pretty soon after the idea had initiated. Hearing the words come out of his mouth finally opened the flood gates and everything began to piece together in a matter of seconds. So many emotions flickered across her face as she finally admitted the truth to herself, before settling on disgust. 'You make me sick' she spat.

Not the reaction he was hoping for given his next question, but he thought there was no harm in asking. Mothers are supposed to do everything for their sons aren't they? 'Look Mum, I need your help.' Anne was taken aback by his abruptness; one minute he's confessing to a vile sin, the next he's asking for her help?

'My help?' she stammered. What could he possibly need her help for?

'I need you make her pay.'

Her skin crawled with repulsion. The poor, poor girl. All she wanted to do was hold her in her arms and apologise profusely for not believing her. The hell she must have gone through... 'Is this some sort of...of twisted joke?' she faltered.

'I presume that's a no then.' There was a hint of amusement in his voice regarding his mother's reaction mixed with annoyance at her unwillingness to help.

'What happened to you, Frank? You were always so...so...' He got up without a care in the world and strolled away from the table back towards his cell; he had no use for her if she wasn't going to help him. Anne sat there, gobsmacked. She let the tears fall freely as she watched her son walk away from her. But he wasn't her son anymore. The person in front of her wasn't her son. Her son was kind and compassionate, but that man was harsh and uncaring. He had no feelings. He had no conscious. He was a vile monster who she didn't know. No, her son was dead.