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."
I think that's too much to do, Mulder.
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
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."
I think that's too much to do, Mulder.
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