| Title: Destiny Author: Jo Series: When Fates Collide, part 1 Pairing: Karl Urban/?? (no pairing just yet) Rating: R Summary: Eyes are the window to the soul. Disclaimer: Not real, didn't happen, made it all up. Though, it might have, but Karl didn't see fit to tell me about it, which is somewhat of a shame, really. Notes: Written a) because I thought the idea was a pretty one and b) for the Furor Scribendi haunting challenge. Series/fic titles shamelessly stolen from "Xena: Warrior Princess"
The eyes fill his dream-vision, his mind. No matter where he turns, the eyes are there. They're painfully beautiful. Or beautifully painful. He's never quite sure which. He only knows that he wants to know everything going on behind them. All the thoughts and secrets hidden there. All the emotions. This dream has become part of his soul. Even awake, he can't escape it. It's always there, the eyes seeing right through him, stripping away layer after layer until he's left naked and trembling. Like now. He's not even fully awake yet, but his eyes are open. One hand slips beneath the sheet, fingers curling around his cock. And Karl closes his eyes again. And breathes. And moves. Later, when he's finished, semen cooling on his skin before he moves to clean it off, he wonders when his life got so lonely that he dreams of shadow eyes. It wasn't always like this. Oh, no. His life used to be much fuller, richer. Natalie in his bed, Hunter safe down the hall, his career taking off -- he had it all. Then something changed. He thinks maybe it was while he was away filming "Ghost Ship." Or perhaps when he spent so long in Vancouver working on "Riddick." Somewhere along the way, Natalie got tired of waiting for him to be home. When he told her he'd signed the contract to do "The Bourne Supremacy," he thought she'd be happy for him. It was a huge opportunity. Instead, his entire world crumbled as she told him it was over. He begged and begged. In the end, it made no difference. He spent the night in Hunter's room, holding his son while he slept. Then, in the morning, he carried Hunter to the car and watched as Natalie drove away. That was six months ago. Since then, he's thrown himself into his work, spending more and more time outside New Zealand. India, Russia, Germany, London -- months split between the four, filming. A brief hiatus to focus on the publicity whirlwind for "The Return of the King." Then right back to filming, spending long days on the set in an effort to numb his mind, his heart...his soul. He's tried to forget the emptiness, tried to forget the empty room down the hall from his, tried to forget he only sees his son six days a month now. Every other weekend. Fucked up. It was easy, while he was working, to forget that no one would be there to greet him. Oh, sure. He knows he can count on Lawrence and Sala to always be there. And they'll probably drag Harry along just for the hell of it. But Karl wants more. Much as he loves his friends, he wants more. Problem is...he's not sure what, exactly, he wants. He thought he knew. Hell, he thought he had it with Natalie. But as devastating as her leaving was, he doesn't really miss her. Yeah, he misses the hell out of Hunter. And he misses the peaceful comfort of having a friend, lover, and partner all rolled into one. But he doesn't miss Natalie so much. It only took him a few months to realize that. That was when the dreams started. Dreams of eyes that linger long into his waking hours. He can't escape those eyes. Truth is, he's not really sure he wants to escape. No matter how bizarre it is to wake up in the middle of the night with a raging hard-on. With a quiet, tired sigh, Karl crawls from the bed. He feels so much older than his almost thirty-two years. He can feel it in each dragging step, each lethargic thought that goes nowhere. Nothing really interests him now. Nothing except seeing his son every other weekend. And the eyes. But he wonders if those truly interest him, or if it's more that he can't seem to get away from them. He contemplates that as he drags a warm, wet cloth across his belly and thighs, wiping away the remnants of his earlier release. Is he interested in the eyes? He doesn't know. But he is intrigued by them. And that, he supposes, is something. It's better than nothing, anyway. He just wishes he knew why. Why he's been having the same dream every night for months. Why he can't forget it. Why everything he sees brings the eyes to mind. But mostly, he wants to know why they arouse him so much. It's just a stupid, fucking dream. Karl meets his own eyes in the mirror and grimaces. Dark strands of hair hang lank before bloodshot eyes. Not much he can do about those, but the hair.... That he can do something about. He should shower, shave...but he can't seem to summon the energy. Not surprising. He can't seem to summon the energy for much anymore. He wishes he could, wishes there was just one thing, aside from his son, that would excite him, entice him, revitalize him. Draw him back to the land of the truly living. But he's starting to believe that's just a pipe dream. Hunter's the only thing that matters in his life. Hunter. His son will be here in a few hours. Just as soon as Karl gets motivated to go get him. Actually, it's not a case of motivation. It's a case of Karl needing more sleep. A couple more hours, that's all he needs. Then he'll be good to go for the weekend -- a weekend spent cherishing every single second with his son. So Karl trudges back to bed and flops onto the pillows. He doesn't bother pulling the sheet up. The room is warm enough. He just needs to snag a little more sleep, that's all. Just a little more. He stares at the wall with dry, burning eyes and tries to turn off his mind. Karl doesn't think he's going to succeed. He never does. "Ducks!" Karl looks up, smiles at Hunter's shrieks of delight. He watches dark curls bounce as his son chases the feathered bodies across the grass. This is a game they play, Hunter and the ducks, each time Karl brings him here. Which is as often as the weather allows. And today is too gorgeous to be anywhere else. So here they are, enjoying the fresh air, the ducks, and the park. It's a wonderful way to spend an afternoon. The dream, the eyes, while not forgotten, has been pushed aside, buried under less distracting things. He looks up in time to catch Hunter's small body as it leaps through the air towards him. Grass tickles exposed skin as they roll around for a few minutes, and Hunter's shrieks fill the air. Those shrieks -- and the giggles that accompany the squirming while he tickles Hunter -- are the sweetest sounds in the world as far as Karl's concerned. This is all that matters, these precious moments spent with his son. "Karl? Karl Urban? Oh, my God, it is you!" The familiar voice draws his eyes upwards as Hunter sprawls across his chest. And even though the hair is shorter now and honey-brown instead of black, Karl recognizes her. Of course he does. He spent several years working with her, playing Caeser and Cupid and others to her warrior princess. Lucy Lawless. Before he has time to breathe, time to think, memories wash over him, swamping him. Lucy laughing at some odd joke. Lucy threatening him (and meaning it once) with Xena's sword. Lucy's devious little smile that meant someone in the cast -- usually Kevin or Renee -- was in trouble. Lucy's touches, kisses, the way she tasted and smelled...Lucy's body against his when the scene called for it. Lucy's eyes as she watched him during filming. Her eyes.... "Been a long time," Lucy says, crouching beside him and smiling. She looks fantastic, just like he remembers. Only better. Then she shifts, blocks the sun. And Karl's gaze collides head-on with eyes straight out of his dreams. A few laugh lines frame them, and they're twinkling now, dark brows arching gracefully. But it's them. Shadow eyes. Karl sits up, Hunter tumbling down to rest in his lap, and smiles -- and notices the lack of a gold band on her left hand. It's been a long time -- her words come back to him. And, it seems, so very much has changed. "Yeah," he says slowly, still smiling. "It has."
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