Author:Teri AKA tessalynne
Title:In the Darkest Corners of the Soul
Rating:PG-13 for Language, Adult Themes and Dark Themes
AU
Disclaimer:Neither Nip/Tuck nor Charmed, or any of their respective characters or events belongs to me. I am merely borrowing them for this work of fanfiction and no copyright infringement is intended.
Authors Notes:The idea for this fic was born after reading Snoopy's wonderful fic 'The Lesson', in particular, the line about Cole perhaps visiting a certain Miami plastic surgeon. It was also inspired by such wonderful tales as 'A Christmas Carol' and 'It's a Wonderful Life'. It might be most accurate to describe it as a Christian/Cole cross over. Just a couple of things to know: Cole is in Limbo and this is set after the Carver's attack on Christian.
Summary:When Christian commits an act of desperation, he receives a rather unusual visitor.
The blade slashed through the air in a vicious arc, ripping into his flesh and shredding it like so much tissue paper.
Christian twisted loose from his sweat soaked sheets with a scream of anguish and stumbled to his feet. A dream, no, The dream, again. It would never allow him peace; he knew this. Just as he knew the mirror in his bathroom would show a face free of scars. The repair work had been miraculous. His soul, however, was not so easy to fix. It wasn't scarred; it was a raw gaping wound that showed no sign of healing.
It would never heal he knew this. The knowledge had haunted him since the moment of the attack. When that blade had sliced into his face, Christian had suffered the most gut-wrenching realization of his 40 years: he deserved this horror, it was payment exacted for the lifetime of suffering he had inflicted on others.
That belief had been his constant companion since his encounter with the Carver. He nurtured it in the silence with which he usually kept his deepest thoughts. It headed the checklist of his sins like a neon sign, glaring and coloring each moment of his life. Until his survival had become a penance he could no longer bear.
If Christian had been thinking at all these would have been his thoughts. But he was beyond thought now; he made his way back to the bed with a glass of water and his sleeping pills. You've got to sleep. That's what Sean had said when he'd prescribed them. Sleep, yes, he needed sleep. He needed rest blissful freedom from his personal demons. Opening the bottle he titled it over his hand and with an almost detached curiosity emptied the contents into his palm. And lifting his water glass he began to swallow the pills. He set the water glass on the nightstand and lay down and closed his eyes to wait. Yes, sleep would be good. As he began to drift off, he had a foggy impression of bells, his telephone was ringing insistently, but Christian didn't really hear it.
Across town Sean McNamara replaced the phone, a worried expression crossing his face. Why hadn't Christian answered? Sean knew he wasn't sleeping well, certainly not well enough to sleep through twenty rings less than three feet from his head. Sean couldn't shake his concern. The Carver had not been apprehended yet. Sean shuddered at that thought. Less sinister, but perhaps more ominous, was Sean's worry over how quiet Christian had become. It was unnatural and a sure sign that something was going on with his friend. His mind made up; he grabbed his car keys.
"Mattie," Sean knocked on his son's bedroom door "keep an eye on Annie. I have to go out for a while. Christian isn't answering his phone."
" Okay, dad."
Sean headed for his car, hoping against hope that everything was all right.
It was bright, too bright. I don't remember turning on the light. Christian tried shifting his head, which was unaccountably heavy.
"Get up you fool," said a vaguely familiar voice. Cole Turner shook the drugged man roughly. "Get up, we don't have all night."
"Lea…e me 'lone," Christian slurred.
"Not happening." Another rough shake. "Now, get up!"
Christian blinked his eyes, struggling to focus. He raised a hand to shield them from the brightness.
"Oh, sorry," but he didn't sound sorry "special effects, kinda come with territory." The room returned to normal with a flick of his wrist.
Christian sat up, continuing to blink and searching his fogged brain for some elusive fact that he was sure was important. He wasn't alone, but he had been, hadn't he? He wasn't afraid. Should he be? Wait. The pills… Christian sprang off the edge of the bed, staring at his out stretched body.
"So, it worked." he said with a dark, humorless chuckle.
"Hardly," that irritating voice said sarcastically. "Pretty stupid actually. You're a doctor, you should know that pills have a pretty low success rate. This is going to get messy," he finished with a laugh.
Christian turned and actively sought the source of the tormenting voice. It was so familiar.
"Then who or what are you?" he asked with a sneer. "What is this shit," he indicated his motionless body " Come to take me to hell or…" He stopped, his eyes finally focused on his 'guest'. Christian Troy found himself staring at Himself.
"Hey! Why do you look like me?"
"You ever listen to anyone besides yourself?"
"Well…"
"You just answered your own question. Now let's go, we're on a timetable here."
"Go where?"
"Living room, we've got a movie to watch."
"A movie?" Christian stared at the jean-clad version of himself. " Is this some kind of cosmic bad joke?"
"I wish" Cole muttered under his breath. "Look buster, I've got a limited amount of time to try and make sure this doesn't happen again. So, do us both a favor, behave out of character and co-operate, okay."
"Jesus, you got PMS? Keep your shirt on, I'll play along." Christian followed as Cole led the way to the sofa. " He couldn't resist needling his visitor though. " I don't wear jeans, by the way, would have thought an angel would have known that," he said with a smirk.
"Who said I was an angel? You know Gina has a point, you're an asshole. And you might want to give jeans a try. If you were less uptight, I could be home in bed, instead of here trying to save your sorry butt. And I'm not the one who has trouble keeping his clothes on," Cole said with a quirk of his eyebrow. "Now pay attention and try to learn something."
Cole hit a button on the remote control. The big screen TV flared to life with a rapid-fire succession of images.
"Damn, too fast," Cole muttered, fiddling with the controls.
"What, we watching bad MTV?"
"Be quiet."
The screen lit up once more. It filled with the image of a small boy coloring, responding to a bellowed summons, entering a room and facing a large seated man. The child's terror was etched clearly in each hesitant response, each movement and expression.
Cole felt the first swell of genuine pity for the man seated beside him.
" I can't watch this," Christian said brokenly.
"I'm sorry, but you need to. We have to start at the beginning."
"Why?" Christian found anger to replace the pain. "Why do I have to relive that? Nothing good ever came of that. I sold myself to Mr. Troy! I've always known that."
The screen split: the small boy coloring, Matt at the same age, Annie smiling at her birthday present, a little girl in a hospital bed eating ice cream.
"Would they be to blame? Does that boy really look like he has any power? Like any child, you latched on to the only positive thing you could find in a horrendous situation. As for no good having come of it…"
The screen faded and reformed with Christian using a scalpel to coerce a confession from Father Michael.
"Why'd you do that Doc?" Cole questioned softly.
"He was going to get away with it, he hurt boys and he was going to keep hurting them. What difference does it make?"
"The difference is you made sure that didn't happen. I'm sure you know what the statistics are on abused children growing up to become abusers."
" I hurt other people in other ways," Christian responded tiredly.
"Well, I'm not here to tell you lies. That's true."
A kaleidoscope of women exploded onto the television. Countless faces, positions, and locations.
"Please stop," Christian hated to beg but these were the memories he'd sought relief from.
More scenes blurred and reformed. Christian curled up in the middle of his bed after calling his sex partners during the HIV scare. Natasha tapping her way to the door in his darkened apartment. Lighting a candle on a cupcake on his 40th birthday. James walking away with Wilbur in his arms. Julia screaming at him to stay away from Matt. Liz telling him she had an abortion.
"No question that you leave a lot of destruction behind you Doc. Funny thing is, you seem to manage to do as much, if not more, damage to yourself. You don't need to die to go to hell, you've done a good job of creating it right here."
Christian snorted derisively. "So you're here to show me that I can't die, because I deserve to suffer and live?"
"No," Cole sighed in exasperation. "Boy, for a smart guy, you sure can be dense. I'm here to try and get you to understand that you need to live so you can change things. You make crappy choices, but not everything you do is bad."
A sudden fierce pounding began at the front door. "Christian! Christian!" Sean was shouting his name at a volume that could easily wake the dead.
"Sean," Christian started to stand.
"Just park it. You can't let him in. He'll be here soon enough anyway and we still have some ground to cover. We're running out of time"
The next sets of images were a jigsaw puzzle of confusion. Wilbur in the hospital nursery, Christian bathing Wilbur, holding him, walking the floor with him, laughing and reading to him. Holding Gina in a hospital bed. Julia 17 years ago, Julia now. And Sean, over and over again, Sean and Christian; 20 years of Laughter, tears, anger, and forgiveness. Twenty years of friendship.
"Nobody should be sick and dying alone," Christian said softly.
"And you didn't leave her alone."
"Sean was never supposed to know that I slept with Julia."
"It wasn't you who told him. And you didn't sleep with her again, even though you wanted to."
"It would have killed him. I don't feel so well."
"It's about to get worse," Cole said almost sympathetically.
The shouting at the door was replaced with the rattle of keys. Sean charged through the apartment and into Christian's bedroom and stared in horror at the empty pill bottle. After a quick check of his pulse, Sean slapped his sleeping friend and began trying to shake him and pull him into a sitting position.
"Damn you Christian! Don't you dare die on me," Sean cried and continued to shake his limp body.
"You really want to do that to him? He feels guilty enough that the Carver attacked you and not him again."
When Christian didn't answer immediately, Cole sighed.
"Life isn't a balance sheet you know. Hell, if it were most of us would be in the red. It's not black and white, but a myriad of grays made up of the choices we make and the reasons we make them. You survived the attack so you would have the time to learn to make better choices and now it's time to survive this by making one of those choices. You gonna answer your page Doctor?"
Christian glanced again at Sean still persistently shaking and manhandling his body. His friend so desperately was trying to save him.
"How much of this am I going to remember?" he asked as he began to move toward his body.
"Not much, but in the interest of not having to do this again, I will leave you with a thought you will remember. Hope is like a light Doc. It'll reach even the darkest corner of your soul, but you've got to remember to flip the switch."
At that Cole faded from the room and Christian rejoined his body with a jerk. His gag reflex kicking in, he began to retch to the comforting sound of Sean's whispered "Thank God's."
The End