Title: Adam's Song
Author: Elizabeth L. Iacono
Rating: PG
Category: Vignette, Angst
Keywords: Pre-XF
Spoilers: None
Summary: A rainy day in England. Decision time
for Mulder.
As the title says, this is inspired by 'Adam's Song,'
by Blink 182. While I'm not a usual fan of the
group, this song really caught my eye and the
whole fic was inspired by it. What turned my
opinion of the song around (because I used to
dislike it) was that I realized that it had a
somewhat happy ending, which spawned on this fic.
Also, this fic is shipper and Noromo safe. For
some reason I think this fic would work better
if M&S's relationship is ambiguous, so I'll
leave it up to the reader to decide if they're
just friends or more than that. In other words
this fic is Ashley and Nif safe. ;-)
Disclaimer: Mulder and Scully are not mine.
Adam's Song belongs to Blink 182
Feedback: I would love it. RhiaRamsay@aol.com
And if you want visit my Website:
http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Meteor/7124/index.html
(it's under construction at the moment though)
Archive: Anywhere and everywhere, Gossamer, Spookys,
and Xemplary especially.
Started and finished August 3, 2000.
Adam's Song
Elizabeth L. Iacono
'I never thought I'd die alone
I laughed the loudest, who'd have known?
I traced the cord back to the wall
No wonder it was never plugged in at all
I took my time, I hurried up
The choice was mine, I didn't think enough
I'm too depressed to go on
You'll be sorry when I'm gone
I never conquered, rarely came
16 just held such better days
Days when I still felt alive
We couldn't wait to get outside
The world was wide, too late to try
The tour was over, we'd survived
I couldn't wait 'til I got home
To pass the time in my room alone
I never thought I'd die alone
Another six months, I'll be unknown
Give all my things to all my friends
You'll never step foot in my room again
You'll close it off, board it up
Remember the time that I spilled the cup
Of apple juice in the hall
Please tell mom this is not her fault
I never conquered, rarely came
16 just held such better days
Days when I still felt alive
We couldn't wait to get outside'
Adam's Song
Blink 182
Oxford University
England
1980
Very Early Morning
Winter in England was very cold, and very
long, Fox Mulder mused as he stared out the window
in his small dorm room. The sky was overcast in
what little pre-dawn light there was, the clouds
hanging low with what could be either rain or
snow. It looked like one of many winter days
since he had arrived at Oxford. But then, England
wasn't known for spectacular weather. Come to
think of it though, he didn't care anymore.
He didn't seem to care about anything
anymore, that was the problem. Though he was
doing well at Oxford, making top marks in his
courses, even earning a spot on the university's
soccer team, he didn't care about any of it.
It was all just going through the motions now.
Mulder thought he would begin to care more
about things, now that he was overseas and far
away from his family. But it didn't happen.
He just became more and more apathetic until
he was left wondering what was the point of
getting up anymore. He wanted to see things
in color again.
Before Samantha was gone, things were bright
and full of color. The sea surrounding the
Vineyard was a blue-green color, the little
flowers in the windowbox bursted with little
pink and purple blooms. His mother's favorite
dress was a deep red, the same shade as a good
wine. And Samantha's hair glowed dark brown,
like the glossy coffee table she liked to dance
on.
But after that night when Samantha had
disappeared from his life, things began to
fade. In his eyes, the sea became muddier,
the flowers wilted, the dress was moved to the
back of the closet. They kept fading and fading
until the only colors he could really see anymore
were shades of grey. Dull, lifeless variations
of grey that he felt matched his dull, lifeless
self.
He wanted to see those colors again, wanted
to feel alive. But he couldn't figure out how
to get them back, to recapture the colors and the
liveliness that he so desired. That was what had
led him to today, the early morning of yet another
cold winter day.
Mulder looked over at the razor blade lying
on his desk. It wasn't one of the cheap disposable
blades, but a real one, taken from a barber shop
somewhere. The long metal blade glinted as the
clouds moved outside and sent grey patches of
dim light against it. This one blade, this piece
of sharpened metal, seemed to hold his fate, he
thought.
He picked it up by the handle and tested
its weight. In reality it wasn't very heavy,
but to him it felt like a block of lead sitting
in his hand. He vaguely wondered if it would
hurt as the blade sliced through skin and vein,
splitting open the vessel that contained the
liquid that kept his body running and spilling
blood that was once red but now grey in his
eyes over the green comforter. He shook his
head to clear it of its wandering thoughts.
He hadn't bothered to leave a note, the
blood pouring from his wrists would be clear
evidence to the cause of his death. And his
family members would certainly know why he did
it. They were the ones who blamed him for
Samantha's disappearance. They would probably
be grateful that the bane he placed on their
lives would be gone.
Still carrying the blade, he moved over to
the small bed and sat down on it, propping himself
up against the wall. Mulder looked down at the
razor, and at his left wrist, facing up towards
the paint-cracked ceiling. Now was the time,
there was no turning back anymore. There was
no reason to.
Mulder adjusted his grip on the blade and
touched the cool metal to his even cooler skin.
He sucked in a breath, not really knowing why,
and pressed the blade down. Only the tip actually
dug into his skin and made a minute split in the
flesh, but that little cut was all it took. He
stared at the small slice with the drop of blood
welling out of it, and he saw something he hadn't
seen for a long time.
The drop was red.
Not the dull grey color everything else had
taken on, but a vibrant, alive red, standing out
sharply against his pale skin, a result of
self-imposed exile from the sun. It almost
had a certain glow to it, shiny and slick,
slowly trickling down his arm.
And at that moment, Mulder realized he
couldn't do it. That one glowing drop of red
blood was like a message being driven into his
brain, saying that even though on the outside
things seemed grey and lifeless, inside things
were still in color, they were still alive. He
still had a chance to make things better.
He placed the razor down on his night table,
resisting the urge to throw it out the window like
he really wanted to. He pushed himself off the bed
and went over to his desk, rummaging around until
he found a roll of gauze and some medical tape.
Mulder wrapped the gauze around his bleeding wrist
and held it tight with the tape, stopping the flow
relatively quickly.
Then, he pulled a sheet of loose-leaf paper
out from the pile on his desk. While he had
staved off the inevitable for now, he couldn't
say what he would do in the future. So he wrote
himself a note, recording what he had almost
done, and making himself a promise. He gave
himself twenty years. If things had gotten
better, or rather than saying better, saying his
life had acquired a purpose, then things would
be fine. If not though...then he didn't see the
point of living past that moment.
Mulder folded the note up and placed it on
top of his desk, to serve as a reminder. Things
might not be good, but he couldn't take the
chicken shit way out and just end it. It would
take a hell of a lot more courage to stay alive,
in his opinion. And he felt he owed it to himself
to try.
He stared out the window, seeing another rare
sight. The sunrise, feeling that today it didn't
want to be deterred by grey clouds, was poking its
way over the tops the old Oxford buildings,
suffusing the sky with red-gold light and burning
itself into Mulder's memory.
For the first time in a long time, the colors
were coming back.
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'The world was wide, too late to try
The tour was over, we'd survived
I couldn't wait 'til I got home
To pass the time in my room alone
I never conquered, rarely came
Tomorrow holds such better days
Days when I can still feel alive
When I can't wait to get outside
The world is wide, the time goes by
The tour is over, I've survived
I can't wait 'til I get home
To pass the time in my room alone'
Adam's Song
Blink 182
The years went by and the note had slipped
into the background, eventually being forgotten
amidst all the other things in Mulder's life.
Events occurred that made him look at things in
different ways. People passed in and out of his
life, some only remaining there for a brief time,
and some, like one Dana Scully, setting down roots
into his life and not letting go. The note ended
up being buried somewhere, under a pile of old
things that hadn't been touched in years.
Until another grey, rainy day when by some
strange twist of fate Mulder felt he had to clean
out some of the old boxes cluttering up his
bedroom. Scully was there helping him too,
out of either the goodness of her heart or
because of his pitiful whining the day before,
saying that he didn't want to go through the
mess alone. But she came, and they actually
had a little fun while they did it.
They had laughed over some old photographs
of his childhood years, and cringed at the old
gym socks at the bottom of one box. The day
became less about cleaning and more about getting
to know one another. Mulder had his head buried
deep in a different box when he heard Scully's
voice from across the room. "What about this,
Mulder?"
"What is it?" he called back.
"It looks like a note. It's got a date on
the front of it, February 27, 1980." Mulder
froze, recognizing the date and what exactly
was contained in said note. He hear the rustle
of paper, strangely amplified by the box around
his head, and then a couple of seconds later,
Scully's sharp intake of breath. He sat back
on the floor, staring at nothing in particular
with his fingers fiddling with the frayed edge
of the cardboard box.
A few short minutes that could have passed
for a lifetime later he heard a shuffling sound
behind him and felt Scully's hand on his upper
back. "It must have been a really hard time for
you," she said softly.
"Oh, yeah," Mulder sighed, unconsciously
leaning back into her hand.
"Did you ever find that purpose?" she
asked even softer.
Mulder turned around to look her in her
eyes, which were looking back at him
sympathetically, sadly, curiously, and with
plenty of other things he couldn't define.
"I think I did," he whispered, his head slightly
nodding. "Yeah, I did."
Scully didn't say anything, just reached
out to take his hand in hers. She intertwined
their fingers and squeezed tightly, knowing
that words wouldn't convey what they were
feeling.
And just like it had twenty years ago,
the sun broke through the clouds once more,
bringing splashes of color to a grey world.
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Feel free to make your own assumptions as to
what Mulder's purpose is. I know what I believe. :-)
I also know that I've played around with this
idea before, but this is a much more serious
and realistic attempt than my last one, so I
hope that no one minds it.
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'True love, it's the greatest
thing in the world.'
Miracle Max
The Princess Bride
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'Men will fight bravely and be
heroes, but for a last ditch defense
against any odds, get a mother.'
The Defender
High Wizardry
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'This is the Fish Patrol in 201. Our
flying fish has flown away. In fact,
things are so rotten around here that
even the pigs won't stay! But we'll
fight to the bitter end! Beware The
Fish!'
Bruno Walton
Beware The Fish
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