Where Do Broken Hearts Go
A/N: Hey everyone! This is my first fanfic ever, so feedback is much appreciated! Everything that happened on the real show so far also happened here, except that for this story, assume that Trey actually managed to rape Marissa that night on the beach. That'll come into play later on. For now, enjoy the beginning, and tell me what you think!
Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the O.C. If I did, I'm convinced that I'd be a much happier person. Also, I don't own the lyrics to Jeff Buckley's "Hallelujah." Duh.
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Chapter 1
Well I heard there was a secret chord
That David played and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do ya?
Well it goes like this: the fourth, the fifth
The minor fall and the major lift
The baffled king composing hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah
She stood before him in a red dress, the wind playing with the ends of her hair and pushing it gently off her shoulders. Her face was turned to the floor, and she seemed to be holding back, surrounded by an air of uncertainty. He knew the feeling. None of them were certain of anything anymore.
Well your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew ya
And she tied you to her kitchen chair
She broke your throne and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah
He looked up at her and smiled, and she returned his small smile with one of her own. There were so many things he would never be able to give her, but a smile was not one of them. He stood and looked around at the finely dressed people dancing to the music, most of them unaware of the agony that he and she were going through.
"Wanna dance?"
She smiled again and took his hand, and he led her to the dance floor. He wasn't sure why he had asked her to dance; he only knew that, in retrospect, it seemed right.
Well baby I've been here before
I've seen this room and I've walked this floor, you know
I used to live alone before I knew ya
And I've seen your flag on the marble arch
But love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah
One of his hands was on the small of her back; the other grasped one of hers. They'd been this close before, but they both knew that this time was different. This time, he wasn't sure if she would ever be this close again; so close that he could see every beautiful freckle on her nose, so close that he could move forward an inch and kiss her lips, so close that he could breathe in her very essence. She took a deep breath and gathered up her courage to say what she knew she needed to.
"I just wanted you to know…I understand why you have to do this." Her voice was shaky and she was on the verge of tears, but she was determined to keep her composure until she had finished.
"Thanks." He was grateful she was telling him this, even if it didn't really make him feel any better.
"But I wish you didn't have to."
"Me too." He didn't think he had ever meant anything more than he meant those two words. He would have said more, but he didn't trust himself to elaborate. His voice was as unsteady as hers. Instead, he gave another sad smile. Considering what he was feeling inside, he had smiled a lot that day, with pictures and receptions and now this dancing, but none of the smiles was the product of true happiness.
She put her head to the side and leaned her cheek against his. As he meditated on the soft skin brushing against his face, he felt a breath in his ear. And then…
"I love you."
He wasn't smiling anymore. His expression changed to one of deep sorrow as he heaved a gigantic, heartbreaking sigh. She leaned her head against his shoulder and clung to him, the tears now freely rolling down her cheeks. Overwhelmed with emotion, he dealt with it by letting it drain from his face, so he appeared bored, almost dead. He certainly felt that way. The music was still playing, but their feet were barely moving as the rest of the world faded away. Nothing else existed in that moment but he and she, and their goodbye.
Well there was a time when you let me know
What's really going on below
But now you never show that to me, do ya?
Well remember when I moved in you
And the holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah
The sun was setting as he closed the yellow door, and so closed the door on a family, a love and a lifestyle. As the car rolled out onto the street he glanced up and saw…her. Standing at the end of her driveway, where he had first met her, and where he was now leaving her. The car continued down the street, and light hit his eyes as he turned around to see her one last time. The sunset illuminated her hair, giving her body a glow that seemed to come from every part of her. He gazed until the limo pulled up to take her away to her new life, and he turned around to face the old life he thought he had escaped.
Maybe there's a god above
But all I ever learned from love
Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew ya
But it's not a cry that you 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
Hallelujah, hallelujah
Hallelujah
Halleluuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuujah
Halleluuuuuujah
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Ryan Atwood opened his eyes to see…nothing. Nothing but the black ceiling of an empty dorm room. Which was funny, because he could have sworn he had just been riding down a highway, staring at the ocean over the side of a cliff.
He sighed. It wasn't the first time he'd had that dream, if it could even be called a dream. To label it a "dream" would be inaccurate, because dreams were usually characterized by illogical plotlines and vague images, and everything in this "dream" was as vivid as it had been when it really happened. Ryan decided it was more like a memory, except one that had made the journey from the conscious to the subconscious, and that liked to replay itself every now and then.
Ryan groaned. His thoughts sounded a bit like Seth, and he hadn't even seen Seth in…six months? He didn't know. It had been April, when he had returned home to California for Spring Break and the obligatory Passover celebration with The Nana. So that meant…four months or so. He would've seen Seth a lot sooner if he had gone home for the summer, like most college juniors-to-be, but he hadn't; instead, he had decided to stay in Boston, a city which, in Ryan's mind, didn't quite live up to its reputation as the "greatest college town in America." It wasn't that there weren't a lot of cool people his age in Boston – apparently one in every four Bostonians was also a collegian – it was just that, when it came down to it, they weren't people that he cared about. All the people that really mattered to him – Seth, Sandy, Kirsten, even Summer – were somewhere else, and that had significantly lessened Beantown's appeal. Come to think of it, he had no idea why he had spent his academic vacation taking extra classes in a city he was less than fond of. He'd had a perfectly good time relaxing in Newport with Seth the previous summer. What had been so different about this one, that he'd been discouraged to return to the comforts of home? The only thing he could think of was…
…Marissa. She hadn't been in Orange County last summer. She'd taken a supposedly educational cruise around the world offered by UNC, stopping to tan on every continent except Antarctica. According to Seth, who heard it from Summer, Jimmy and Julie had refused to foot the bill for another such expedition this year, so Marissa would be spending her entire summer in California. But he didn't honestly think that the prospect of seeing Marissa for the first time in two years had driven him to avoid going back. Right?
He remembered Seth's reaction when he had called and told him that he'd see him in September, not June. "Dude, are you crazy? You want to stay in Boston all by yourself, instead of sailing and skateboarding and going to multiple IMAX movies with me in Southern California? Are you sure that you're not going a little bit insane because you haven't seriously punched someone in a while?"
Ryan decided that Seth's explanation for his decision was better than the ones he had come up with.
Not that it mattered much now, anyway. Tomorrow, he was flying back to the West Coast – for good. Two years at Harvard had taught him that the Ivies were overrated, and a summer of self-imposed exile had only increased his desperation to go home and stay there. Seth's roommate at USC was rooming with someone else, so Ryan had taken the hint that fate had offered and was going to move in with Seth. Apparently, USC had a fairly reputable architecture program that suited Ryan's needs just fine; losing the Harvard name was a small concession to make when he considered that by transferring, he was making himself a whole lot happier. Besides, by the time he got back, Marissa would already be long gone to North Carolina to start her junior year, so he wouldn't have to worry about running into her for a while. If Marissa was the reason he had avoided Newport in the first place.
Still, the dream had cracked the lid on the box of feelings that he reserved for her, feelings he thought he had put away for good. In the back of his mind, a small part of him felt the familiar pang that came with missing someone. But he banished the thought almost as soon as it was formed. He missed a lot of people, but she was not one of them. Nor should she be.
Ryan glanced at the clock by his bedside and groaned again. It was 2:25 in the morning. He couldn't afford to lose this much sleep the night before he flew across the country. Determined to fall asleep and not to dream, especially not about her, Ryan closed his eyes and concentrated on the excitement he felt at finally going home and seeing everyone again.
But the last conscious thought he had before slipping into unconsciousness was not one of Seth, or the Pool House, or Sandy, or Kirsten, or USC. "Marissa," he mumbled, the corners of his mouth twisting slightly upward, "I wonder what she's doing right now."
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Marissa Cooper lay on her back, surveying the stars outside her window with her Share Bear tucked under her arm. She didn't know why, but something about nights when the moon was out and the sky was perfect made her miss…him. She smirked at her own cheesiness. She'd probably seen too many romantic movies. Or maybe she'd just watched The Notebook one too many times.
Despite her efforts to gloss over it by poking fun at herself, the lonely feeling came back. And didn't go away. Two years hadn't been enough to make it go away for good, and moments that looked as if they were straight out of one of her romantic movies didn't help matters.
She reached across her bed to the drawer of her nightstand, but her hand paused on the handle. She knew she shouldn't. She knew it wouldn't achieve anything. One more glance at the sky, though, convinced her to pull the knob forward and to take out a wrinkled photograph. She sighed as the moonlight fell across a picture of a boy and a girl, smiling at each other and holding hands, with a ferris wheel lighting up the night behind them.
