Title: Harbinger Author: Eileen S. Whipple Email: whipples@connect.ab.ca Rating: PG-13 Classification: VA, character death, hint at MSR Summary: "When it comes for you, you'll know it *is* your time." Spoilers: None Archive: Sure, just tell me where so I can visit! Feedback: If you find it in your heart to send me even something saying "I liked your story", please do so! Even those short emails keep me going! DISCLAIMER: CC owns all. Need I say more? Notes: This story came to me after listening to Blue Oyster Cult's "Don't Fear the Reaper". I could barely hear the words to the song but just the title inspired this. ********* Harbinger ********* The voices were whispers in the distance; their rhythm was like a song, the last human music she'd hear. The mechanical wail of sirens had died down but would start up again as the fallen agent was taken to the hospital. Paramedics had stopped the bleeding but her pierced lung was making breathing difficult. That was not the only pain she felt. The same gunman who'd shot her had killed her partner. She couldn't help him, and he had died several feet away from her, his dying words audible through all the aching, "I love you, Scully, and you have to live." Her eyes were open a crack but her ears were wide open to her surroundings. She heard her mother Margaret sobbing and pretending she wasn't. Assistant Director Walter Skinner was speaking quietly with her doctor. Her throat was burning and dry but she couldn't speak to ask for water. The machines were helping her breathe now and she was sore from the surgery to repair her lung. "Mr. Skinner," her mother said, "when is Mulder's funeral?" "In three days. His mother wanted Dana to be there and if she's fully awake and showing progress soon, there is a slight chance the doctor will let her attend." "I don't think that would be a good idea." Scully used a great deal of strength to lift her hand. She pointed to the water jug. "Dr. Lang, can she have some water?" "Give her a small glass, Mrs. Scully." The doctor waited to see how her patient took to ingesting liquids. The cool water flowed over Scully's parched lips and her hand shot up to get more water into her mouth. "Can you speak?" Dr. Lang asked. Scully coughed at the wetness in her throat. Her lung felt better except for the coughing. "I have to go to Mulder's funeral," she rasped. "I have to say goodbye." Her pale cheeks began to flush pink. Her mother warned, "Dana, don't get worked up. He knows how you feel so you don't really need to go. Your health is important, and it is crucial you don't set yourself up for infection." Scully's forehead creased. "He didn't know how I feel. He told me he loved me. Those were his dying words. 'I love you, Scully, and you have to live'. I didn't even see it coming. I have to tell him how I feel." "Mrs. Scully, I'll leave you and Dana alone." Skinner left the room, followed closely by Dr. Lang. "Mom, I feel awful. He told me he loved me after I got him shot." "How did you get him shot?" Margaret asked. "I didn't cover him when the gunman fired. I'm supposed to protect my partner if I have to." "Dana, you can't blame yourself for that. You'd been shot first and your reaction had been impaired." "But he'd tried to protect me and I couldn't even do that much." She yawned in the midst of her feelings of guilt and temporary self-hatred. Margaret fixed her daughter's blanket. "Dana, you need to rest. It's only been a few days since your surgery." Scully wasn't going to argue; she was too tired to put up a verbal fight. She nestled her head into her pillow and fell asleep. A tickling feeling danced across her bare throat and she opened one eye. In the darkness she could see a man. Scully looked at him with eyes wide open. "Scully," he said. She couldn't move. "Mulder?" Her voice shook. "Don't be afraid of me. Please don't be." He was dressed in the grey suit he'd be wearing the last time she'd seen him. "I must be hallucinating," she said. "It's the medication." He moved to her side and sat on her bed. Weight pressed down on the mattress. "Scully, no matter what you believe I am, you're going to listen to me." His voice was soft yet forceful. She was too frightened to move. He didn't seem dead or ghost-like. He had mass, she couldn't see through him, and he looked like Mulder before he'd gotten shot. And she couldn't believe in ghosts; it wasn't her. "I tried to protect you and I did most of my job. I just don't want you to feel guilty about not being able to help me." "But you died. I failed you." "Scully, you didn't fail me. You were hurt badly so I understand why you couldn't help me." She brought her blankets up to her chest, the material bunched up in her fists. "What was death like?" He reached out and touched her cheek. "It was painful at first but then, it was like I could never feel any pain again. It seems morbid to say but for me, death was the answer to my quest." Scully's blue eyes began to moisten out of fright and joy. "What do you mean?" "I've seen Samantha. She's part of the spirit world." "She's dead?" She knew how important it had been for Mulder to find his missing younger sister. "She told me she'd been adopted but died of natural causes at age eleven. She's not sure who took her that night, but whoever it was didn't hurt her." She noticed that his eyes were darker and more alive than she'd ever seen them before. He seemed to be content in death. "Scully, I don't want to upset you but when we were shot, we were both supposed to die." "I w-was?" she stuttered. "But I lived." "That's why you're in such poor health right now." Mulder caressed her right hand. "You're going to get worse but don't fear death. When it comes for you, you'll know it *is* your time." The muscles in her body tightened. Mulder never lied to her unless it was in her best interest. The intensity of his hazel eyes and his touch told her he was serious. "Be prepared, Scully. Death will be coming soon so make sure you say your goodbyes soon." She blinked and in that split second, he was gone. She began feeling ill when she realized her friend was the harbinger of death. The voices were quiet, and the interval between blips on the heart monitor was long. Her heart was worn out and was slowing down. Dr. Lang had told Margaret that her daughter's downturn was mysterious; there was no reason why her health would be declining. She wasn't in any physical pain; she ached because she didn't want to leave her mother. Scully knew that Mulder's words were true. She was supposed to die and there was nothing that could be done about it. Perhaps she'd see her father, her sister, and her daughter when she finally left. She hadn't said her goodbyes yet but she would as soon as she could open her eyes. She never thought the darkness could be so comforting. **END** Comments? whipples@connect.ab.ca