Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I claim to own, Nip/Tuck or any of its characters. They are property of their respective owners in accordance with United States copyright law. I am not making any profit from this story, nor do I intend to. This merely a fan's tribute to the series and interpretation as to what may have happened to Christian between seasons two and three.


Christian whimpered and rolled over onto his stomach. He was exhausted; all he wanted was to drift silently into a deep sleep. Yet at the same time, that was exactly what he feared the most. Every time his eyes managed to close for more than a few seconds, his thoughts were invaded by an alarmingly realistic image of the Carver. It had been like this for nearly a month. Some nights were better than others and he managed to get at least four or five hours of Carver-free sleep without being jolted awake by a synthesized voice chanting "beauty is a curse on the world" echoing through his head. But tonight was by far the worst night thus far. All he could think about was how scared he had been when he opened his eyes and found the Carver standing over him, ceramic mask glowing eerily and knife held high. He hadn't even had time to react before being paralyzed – both by fear and by the drug in the Carver's needle. It had all happened so fast: the shock, the drugging, the carving…. Christian sat up and shook his head. He wasn't going to think about it.

Reaching up to touch his bandaged neck, Christian glanced at the clock: 2:18 a.m. His entire body ached with a fatigue far worse than any he'd ever felt before in his life. He wished he could sleep with a guarantee of zero dreams for just one night. But the only way to do that would be by popping a few sleeping pills. There was no way he could rest by using a method so similar to the one that the Carver had used to paralyze him.

When were his actions and feelings going to be based on something other than the attack? Right now every minute detail of every single day was overshadowed by that ceramic mask and synthesized voice. He couldn't even shit without thinking about the fact that the Carver's dick had been in his asshole. Christ, the bastard hadn't even been gentle. Christian's asshole hurt more than the six-inch gash on his neck. Coming to terms with having been raped was the hardest part of the whole ordeal for Christian. Thinking about it made him feel just as scared and weak as he had when his foster father molested him years ago. Christian thrived on dominance and control, in part because of his childhood, in part because it was simply who he was. Being in a position where he was at the mercy of another damaged person him on some level – especially when the person in question hurt him. He hadn't told anyone, not even the police, about the other part of the Carver's attack. The first thing he had done after the drugs wore off was to crawl into the shower and wash all of the evidence of the rape. Somehow, keeping it to himself made it seem like more of a bad dream than a reality.

He had done everything in his power to avoid thinking about that part of his attack. He hadn't even fucked Kimber, or anyone else for that matter, since the attack. He was beyond petrified that having sex would reveal his secret. He doubted he'd even be able to get an erection. For the first time in his life, the thought of sex wasn't appealing; instead, it was terrifying. All he really wanted right now was to be held and comforted to the point where he was able to sleep. Kimber had comforted him in the days following the attack, but now all she seemed to do was nag him about moving on with his life. How was he supposed to move on when he was so broken that he couldn't even sleep or shit without being haunted by the attack? It had taken all his strength to eat, shower, and make it through the seemingly endless nights this past month. How did she expect to him to go home – back to where he was violated in so many ways? He didn't think he'd ever be able to sleep in his bed again. He'd been hurt so badly there. The slash wound on his neck was still bandaged, his asshole felt like it was on fire almost constantly, and he was so mentally damaged that he couldn't sleep. He wanted someone to save him, but how could anyone save him if no one even knew the extent of his pain? He didn't want to lay here in the dark thinking about these things. The dark had always scared Christian when he was little, but whenever he cried out about it, his foster father would touch him. Fuck, his thoughts were running the whole fucking spectrum tonight: from childhood pain to recent pain it was all here!

All these thoughts were simply too much to stomach. Christian slipped out of bed and walked across the bedroom to the window. The scenery surrounding this beach house never failed to take his breath away, especially the woods and river that were visible from his back window. After the attack, he simply couldn't face the thought of going back to his own place. Sean and Julia had both offered him solace but he felt so emotionally isolated that this just seemed better somehow. Not so far off in the distance, the glistening river lay perfectly still under the bridge that led to the beach house, looking so beautiful and serene that Christian just couldn't seem to look away. He wanted to be at peace, just like the river. Suddenly, reckless desire overcame Christian. Why not go out to the river? It wasn't like being in the house kept him any safer from the Carver and he wasn't going to get any sleep that night anyway. A nice, long walk would soothe his mind and maybe help him find enough mental clarity to sleep for a few hours when he got back.


This is my first fanfic, so please R&R so that I know what I need to improve upon! Thank you! D