Hallelujah

Author: RowenaR

Rating: M due to mature themes, mentioning of sex and like a million swear words.

Category: Drama/Romance

Disclaimer: Star Wars on the whole belongs to George Lucas but the characters mentioned here are children of my imagination. Respect that, please. "Hallelujah" is an all-famous song by Leonard Cohen (although I only have the version from the "O.C."-soundtrack, but that's not really a problem, I guess) which just inspired my to write this. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is made out of this (although I need it badly :p)

Summary: A one-shot fic. Vignette about how Blenwell feels after… the incident with Kenzy in the work-out room. Companion piece to "Paper Cup". No stand-alone, sorry. Recommended to read "Odyssey" first.

Archive: Sureeeeeee. Just write me a note where you're putting this baby ;)

A/N: I have always looked for a fitting song for a companion piece to "Paper Cup" (which has been lying on my hard-drive for like an eternity now), and after watching one of the first episodes of "The O.C." and thus listening to "Hallelujah" again (after hearing it in "Shrek") I suddenly had a kind of epiphany that this was the song I had been looking for. Plus I just love the song and always wanted to write a story with it.

Hallelujah

I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?

It goes like this...the fourth, the fifth
The minor fall
The major lift
The baffled King composing Hallelujah

Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you.

She tied you to a kitchen chair
She broke your throne
She cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

Maybe I have been here before
I know this room, I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you.

I've seen your flag on the marble arch
Love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

There was a time you let me know
What's real and going on below
But now you never show it to me, do you?

And remember when I moved in you
The holy dark was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah

Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

Maybe there's a God above
And all I ever learned from love
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you.

And it's not a cry you can hear at night
it's not somebody who's seen the light
it's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

Sithspit.

How could I ever be so stupid?

Don't get me wrong, I don't mean the fact that I gave in to whatever crap had ridden me and started kissing her and undressing her and let myself be kissed and undressed by her and well… have this wild and live-changing sex with her. And I don't mean the fact that I let myself being bossed around into the work-out room to be her beat-the-crap-out-of-it-all-boy of the day. Or the fact that at this point I still could effectively hold up my reputation of not giving a damn about her.

No, I mean the fact that despite everything I try to tell myself I've come to actually like her. Like her body which almost appears like a piece of steel rope, ready to burst every moment. Or maybe one of those marble statues of old warrior goddesses with their refined muscles, no ounce of fat on their bodies but full of strength. Like her no-nonsense way of dealing with people, her attitude, her wit, her devotion to her job… Damn it!

I wish everything was like it had been before. Before we started those work-out sessions and did something else than just glare and snap at each other. I wish I never got to touch her body or hear her genuinely laugh about something stupid I said. I wish I never got to get so close to her. And I wish I never had felt this incredible sexual tension that always was created in those matches.

I could have stopped it all, after the first match. It had already been there, this damn tension, already that thick that I almost had crushed her lips with mine when she was under me. I should have stopped it.

Dammit, dammit, dammit. She made a fucking lovesick fool out of me. Took my heart and crushed it, ripped it, threw it carelessly away. With one little sentence. "After all, it was just sex." At first I thought exactly like this. Just sex. Just two people with pent-up frustration inside who needed to vent of a little steam and some strange attraction between them. And then I found myself thinking myself back into the work-out room, feeling her slightly sweaty skin under my fingers, roaming the taught muscles of her body, feeling her mouth on my shoulder… there was nothing tender about the way we were doing it but it just felt right. It was who we are.

And a while I still thought it was purely physical, purely needing someone to release all the tension inside. But then I found myself thinking about the way her eyes would gleam when we had engaged in a battle of wits, like she was enjoying every bit of it just for the sake of itself. And I remembered the strange sadness in her eyes I had seen in the only moment she had ever been vulnerable, just seconds after we both had climaxed, just seconds, before she told me that "after all, it was just sex". I wanted to know what it was, who it was that lived behind the walls of scruffiness she normally builds around herself. And – which is the most stupid thing of it all – I suddenly found myself wanting to be the one to break the walls down and help her overcome the sadness.

Stupid, stupid, stupid me. Big, bad womanizer Marten Blenwell got himself caught by the last woman he ever expected it to be. And the only one that will never fall to my charms. The only one I can never have is the one that cut my privates off and ripped my heart in two with just one little sentence. She'd like the irony of it all, I guess.

Yeah, Blenwell, way to get yourself screwed up for good.

Hallelujah.

Just bloody, fucking, sodding Hallelujah.