This is in response to the August Whispers of X challenge. Elements can be found at the bottom. Title: Filling the Void Author: Soleil Compeau Summary: Scully can't bear the thought of another man ever touching her again after Mulder. But she's very lonely.... Spoilers: DeadAlive Keywords: Scully/Reyes slash, angst Disclaimer: These characters are not mine. They probably should be, since I'm actually putting them through *less* torture then their Creator. But when I'm done with them, I'll put them back where I got them. Okay? Okay. Rating: NC17 Author's Notes: Despite the NC17 rating, this piece is not just a smut biscuit. It's a dark journey for Scully in her discovery of just what it will take to survive with half her heart and soul in the ground. This piece has been on my mind for a long time, and thanks to Shell's continued ass whupping, I've finally written it. Thanks Shell! Scully tossed back and forth on the bed, wishing she could sleep. Idly, one hand drifted down to the slight swell over her pubic bone, and she let her fingers play over it. Mulder's baby was in there. As hot tears coursed down her cheeks, she wondered if she would ever be done with crying. During the day she was strong and stoic, always the professional agent. At night she let herself become more the woman Mulder had begun to glimpse before his abduction. No one was there anymore to see her walls crumble. It was odd, the things that reminded her of him and set her off. Baseball used to be a sport she enjoyed, now she could not bear to watch a game. A gentle fall rain set her to thinking about the first time they made love. It was a good thing coffee was off limits to her now or every cup would have conjured his smiling face as he handed her the traditional morning cup. The only thing that got her through being in his office was Doggett's almost alien presence there. The worst part was when she went to Dr. Parenti for prenatal check ups. With every new thing she learned about her pregnancy, the wish, the desire to share it with Mulder was almost overwhelming. And now with the beginning of the second trimester came another way to feel his absence. From her own body came the near-constant desire to make love to him. Increased sexual desire was a common symptom of pregnancy. Scully wished otherwise. Her heart was frozen solid and refused to beat. Why should her vulva pulse and contract with desire for her lost center when her world had essentially narrowed down to just living, just breathing in and out? Often Scully would dream of him. Sometimes she dreamed of being in the field next to Skinner, watching in helpless horror as he was taken by blinding white light, unable to stop the inexorable tearing in her soul. Most often, though, the dreams were worse than that. And they started out so wonderfully, so innocuously. Just recently, the beach figured prominently in her nighttime fantasies. She and Mulder had never been to the beach together. They had just begun to explore a more normal relationship, each unsure of what that meant within the bonds of their own particular gestalt. But once during a steamy phone conversation in the middle of the week, Mulder had confessed to a desire to visit the seashore with her. Scully's hand slid a little farther down and rested just below her curly pubic hair, lightly touching her outer lips. Tears continued to leak out of her eyes. She was so tired, so tired. Every day was spent in the most strenuous activity her pregnancy would allow, so that there was no room during daylight to dwell on him. Her fingers moved in a slow circle, but she fell asleep before she could complete the loop. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> "We run together out the beach. It's the middle of the night and no one will catch us." Together they opened the hotel door, looking cautiously around to make sure no one saw them. Clad only in fluffy towels, they ran the few yards to where the sidewalk ended and clean white sand began. As they jogged towards the inviting water, Mulder's towel, small to begin with, worked its way off his lean hips and fell at his feet. He paused long enough to snatch it up, and ran on. "We're so free, we can act like children, like God intended us to be. Scully, do you feel the sea breeze whip through your hair and caress your body?" She laughed as his penis bobbed against his abdomen with each graceful bound. Undaunted, he grabbed her waist and tossed her easily over his powerful shoulder, fireman style. Striding to where the surf broke in foamy waves on the beach, he lowered them both into the cool water. At some point after lifting her, he had unwound her towel from around her torso and tossed it behind them. It lay half entangled with his own. "I like being this way with you. I like not having to hold back my love. I can touch you, I can kiss and smile and laugh with you." A wrestling match for dominance commenced. Both wanted to be on top, neither was above using tickling to achieve the desired goal. Both were similarly sensitive this way. It was Mulder's superior strength which won out. He trapped her on the damp, cool sand with his long body. "We make love there on the sand, letting the waves lick at our bodies. It's so free and primitive Scully! The sound of the surf muffles our cries of pleasure." Mulder taunted her with leisurely kisses of her mouth and sensuous licks of her nipples. He shifted his hips, rising up to penetrate her, and she panted with anticipation of his first full thrust inside her. >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> She reached for him, trembling with arousal, and found herself in her bed, alone in the dark. He was not there. Like an interrupted sentence that would never be heard, he was not there. Scully gasped with frustration and pain, falling back into the bed and huddling under the covers. Once more, her nightly ritual began. Scully reached into her bedside table and slowly withdrew a magazine. On the cover, in big, bold red letters, were the words, "Do me with it BIG BOY." A muscular male model posed sneering on his knees before a woman who writhed in either pleasure or pain. It was difficult to tell. Scully hated looking at the cover but she felt she had no choice in viewing this material. She had to do *something* to relieve this almost constant ache. She leafed through her latest purchase until she found a promising page. A tall man sprawled across the shiny paper, looking soulfully into the camera while stroking his strangely fake looking, enormous erection. The woman gazing at him caught her breath and put her fingers to her nipples. She stroked lightly, with just her fingertips, unconsciously imitating her former partner's touch. A vision of Mulder in the shower with her, hand on his cock and eyes on her sudsy body, skittered across her mind's eye and was as quickly gone. She set the magazine down so it would stay open to the right page, and used her other hand to stimulate her engorged vulva. It took only a few minutes before she was shaking and vibrating with release, however lonely it was. When her breathing steadied, her eyes opened and happened to fall again on the man in the picture. It was then that she realized that the model had dark tousled hair, pouty lips, and strangely sensuous eyes. With a sob of longing for another tall, dark and handsome man, Scully lifted the now offending article and threw it with all her strength away from her. A magazine makes a poor missile, but it was aerodynamic enough to hit the opposite wall. A shelf that Scully had just recently hung was its designated landing. The shelf tottered a moment on unsteady nails, then tumbled with the shiny paper that was its undoing, onto the floor. ------------------- Next day at the office: "No ma'am, I really don't think there's anything to investigate in this case," Scully explained politely to the woman on the phone. Scully couldn't deal with that abrupt reminder of Agent Mulder. She said goodbye shortly, and hung up the phone. Seconds later, it rang again. "Scully!" she practically shouted into the phone. A pause, then a voice that she swore she would know anywhere. "Monica? Agent Reyes, is that you?"