Thank you SO much for the lovely comments! They make me so happy. If any of you want and can think of a direction I could take this in for a kind of sequel then you're welcome to suggest.

He couldn't ignore the faint tremor in her hand, her dainty fingers unable to close around his, instead, unintentionally drumming against his skin as she figured out what to say, and how to say it.

'If this is about last night, you know how sorry I am baby, I.. I wasn't going to hurt you, I just lot my temper and I didn't think..' he said, wondering how many times he'd have to say this to assure he what he said was true.

She dragged her teeth over the swell of her bottom lip, lifting her eyes to meet his. It felt so ridiculously cliché but it was his eyes, those fucking gentle, understanding eyes that made this so hard. His eyes mapped out the past year, an elaborate illustration springing before her, bringing her right back to that first damn moment she set eyes of him, sitting, then shocked in that AA room.

And then she pictures him, albeit rather blurred and unfocused, wrapping her hand in a gauze of some sort.

His voice is nonchalant and he's rubbing her back as she recalls the first time she admitted her feelings for him, and his painfully composed reaction.

Eye's determined to resist her, but almost faltering, his body is guarded as she presses herself against him and whispers seductively into his ear, only just modest.

Choking back tears, holding back vows of love, as he lies almost dying before her.

'Opening up her chest and showing him her heart' her lips dabbing the corner of his mouth until he turns his head and gives in.

Angrily spitting that he doesn't care, eyes narrowed and voice so clear.

Her stomach is throbbing and she feels exposed and so dirty, he's there in a flicker, standing before her but she barely registers him as she spins round and clutched at the torn remains of her blouse and asks for him to go.

It changed from then, he's there so often, brushing her skin with such a grateful touch.

Holding her close and running hands through her hair, kissing the corner of her lips, just not close enough.

Holding what he thought may be a carcass, unable to let go.

He's touching her, kissing her, he's promising her everything and she's so vulnerable and reluctant to respond but she can't hold back and then she's there and he's inside her and he's loving her and …

'Carla what's wrong?' Peter asks, his voice drenched in concern as he takes hold of her chin and does the same as he did 'that night', brushing the tears that run down her cheeks with the pad of his thumb in a circular motion.

'I wanted you, I wanted you so badly, and I love you so much, and it breaks my heart to have to do this, cause' you know I've done it before, I done it before, and it doesn't hurt any less, but I know, I know I've got to do it Peter' she mumbled, her voice is so strained and hoarse, and he isn't even sure she's talking to him, or if she's talking to herself, her eyes aren't connected with anything, it's as though she's looking in the mirror, attempting to convince herself what she is saying is true.

'Carla, calm down, I don't understand, done what? Do what?' he said, afraid of the disconnection in her body language.

'You, me, us.. I can't do it, I can't, I've tried and I know it's what I want but I.. it's not what I need and I don't expect you to understand but I'm doing the right thing'.

His response is late, he's trying to piece together everything she's saying, her behaviour, he wonders if this is just a blip, an 'episode', if she's thinking straight, but behind the uncertainty in her eyes, is a women who has taken a path that she isn't going to divert from, she's holding back just, and she isn't going to let him convince her, she isn't going to let him in, not anymore.

'Why?' is all he can pathetically ask her, he's lost the will to push her, to try.

'I've made my mind up, I've thought about it over and over, and over.. and it's the only way I can.. recover' she whispers, drawing the words together in her head but unable to evoke how she really feels.

He loosens his hold on her hands, so they simply sit in his, cradled if you like. He's lost her and he knows it. If there's one thing he has learned, it's who she is, he feels it dawn on him, like her hot breath before they lean in for a kiss, that she's slipped through his hands without him ever really noticing, he hadn't caught her as she fell, as he thought, he hadn't truly brought her back from the brink. He hadn't done any of the things he'd thought, hope he had.