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The second he heard that voice he knew he was in big trouble. He could practically hear her smirk on the tape, the satisfaction she must’ve had knowing she was going to scare him half to death. He didn’t, however, expect her face to suddenly appear just inches from his in a matter of seconds.
“Aren’t we looking rather ghostly?” Phoebe said, barely containing her happiness.
Mulder just stared at her for a moment, wondering what awful thing he could have possibly done to deserve this. Years of regret and fear and hatred suddenly crashed down over his head, and all of a sudden he felt all of eighteen years old again. And then he remembered Scully was there. Wonderful, intelligent, hilarious Scully who liked him even though he was a bit spooky. He couldn’t mess this up. He wouldn’t.
Mulder turned to his partner, trying to force on a smile. “It’s an old friend.” He climbed out of the car before his breath could hitch or he could show any sign that things were less than perfectly and extraordinarily okay.
“Aren’t you going to thank me?” Phoebe asked.
“For what?” he replied, slamming the car door shut behind him.
“For saving your life. One tends not to make the same mistake twice.” A challenge. He remembered this game. He’d been quite good at it, once.
“I’ll try to remember that.”
“Oh, come on, don’t tell me you left your sense of humor at Oxford ten years ago!” Phoebe exclaimed, a smile falling onto her face.
For just a moment, it was easy to forget everything she’d said, everything she’d done. That laugh, those eyes, drew him in, and he found himself stepping closer. “No, actually. It’s one of the few things you didn’t drive a stake through.”
And then she was kissing him, and oh no, maybe he was eighteen all over again. He didn’t move as he felt her lips on his cheek, on the stubble that hadn’t been there the last time she’d kissed him. It was that that pulled him back to the real world, the one where he and Scully worked together and no one knew anything about him except that he was interested in UFOs. “You know, some mistakes are quite worth making twice.”
Not this one, he decided, hoping he’d be strong enough not to go back on it later. He pulled away. “Dana Scully, this is Phoebe Green, terror of Scotland Yard,” Mulder said, heart hammering in his chest. Why was Phoebe here? Why was she dredging up things he hadn’t thought about, didn’t want to think about, in years?
“Hello!” Scully said bitingly. Mulder couldn’t help but smile.
Phoebe leaned in close to his ear. “She hates me,” she whispered, and followed it up with a name. A woman’s name. A name Mulder hadn’t heard in years and had hoped he’d never have to hear again.
And suddenly he was frozen. It was like time had stopped and nothing was real except for that name pounding against his eardrums and tearing his body open. Mulder felt cold fingers of dread crawling their way up his back and coming up to clutch at his heart. He forced himself away from Phoebe and stared at her with disgust.
“What brings you to the colonies?” Mulder choked out.
Phoebe smiled. She knew she’d won this round, and he felt a bit dizzy. Mulder wanted to quit this game, and he wanted to quit now.
As they made their way to the office, Phoebe talked and talked. Mulder hardly heard any of it though, because he knew that she knew that name. She could release it at any time, say it loudly, tell Scully or anyone else at the FBI who was around to hear it. She could explain it, in detail, why Mulder hated it so. Phoebe Green had the perfect ammunition to destroy his life once again, and with every breath, Mulder found himself terrified she would use it.
While Phoebe explained something about a pyrokinetic, Mulder watched Scully from the corner of his eye, his leg bouncing up and down. She seemed annoyed, looked as disgusted with Phoebe as he felt. Good. He felt sated suddenly, like a warm blanket had been drooped over him. Scully was going to have his back no matter what. And he needed to show her that he was not afraid.
“So what brings you on this detour to Washington D.C., Inspector?” Mulder asked, a hint of snark in his tone.
Phoebe leaned in close. “I figured my friend Mulder …” His heart leapt into his throat and she smiled wider. “...couldn’t resist a three-pipe problem.”
He wanted to run, to hide, to leave before she could push him any further. But Scully was right there. “I’ll run it by our arson specialist.”
“Splendid. I’ll call London, let them know.”
Mulder smiled. The worst of it was over. But then—
“Goodbye—” and then the name. And there it was. That was it. Mulder felt like he’d just been slapped across the face. Somewhere in the distance he heard her say goodbye, but he was already miles away. Students were jeering, professors shooting him dirty looks, and he felt like he was going to pass out. A bead of sweat ran down the side of his face and Scully sidled up next to him, looking a little concerned.
“A three-pipe problem?” Scully asked.
Mulder jerked back to reality and stared at her. She was just...Scully. Smiling a little, perhaps trying to make a joke out of Phoebe, with only the tiniest hint of questioning in her eye. And even that, he knew, was concern for his sudden change in demeanor. It calmed him, to be sure, but he was struck with a sudden urge to move.
“That’s from Sherlock Holmes, it’s a private joke,” Mulder said blankly, standing.
“How private?” Scully pushed, only half-serious.
“Um…” Mulder thought back to that night. It had been pouring rain, and he would’ve been shivering like crazy if it hadn't been for Phoebe’s weight on top of him. Her body, pushing down, seeing him in his most vulnerable state. Mulder had been sure he could trust her with the truth. Too bad his stupid desires had gotten the better of him. “We knew each other in school, and she was brilliant, and uh…” Mulder looked up at Scully uncertainly. He’d never told anyone about this before. “I got in over my head and paid the price.”
“Mulder, you just keep unfolding like a flower,” Scully said, and that was it. He was safe, he was okay. Phoebe had nearly told Scully his deepest secret and she was none the wiser. It was going to be fine.
Mulder tried to tell himself this while he listened to the arson specialist blab on and on about the beauties and mysteries of fire. Usually, he would’ve been all too interested to hear what the man had to say, but he just couldn’t focus, not with Phoebe staring at him like that. She looked like she was sizing up her next meal, and he couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Suddenly, he realized something: Phoebe wasn’t giving up. That was only the first round. Mulder didn’t want Scully around long enough to find out what she had in store for the second. So he made his choice.
Mulder opened the door to his once isolated and lonely office only to find Scully at his desk, diligently reading the file on Phoebe’s case. Glasses she seldom wore adorned her face, and he struggled not to smile at how cute she looked. Stay professional, Mulder, professional.
“So, Sherlock, is the game afoot?” Scully asked, not even looking up.
“I’m afraid so, Watson,” Mulder replied. “But you’re off the hook on this one.”
“What do you mean?”
Mulder could hear his heart beating in his ears again, imagining every way this conversation could go wrong. “I mean, I’m not gonna put you through this.”
“Put me through what?”
Damn you, Dana Scully, couldn’t you just read my mind? Mulder thought irritably. “Phoebe’s little mind game.”
Scully hesitated. That look of concern was back on her face. Nonchalance wasn’t going to work this time. “What are you talking about?”
Mulder couldn’t bring himself to look at his partner, staring intently at his shoes while he reached for a bag to bring with him on his trip. “There’s something else I haven’t told you about myself, Scully.” This is your moment. His hands were shaking. “I…” Mulder took a deep breath. I’m trans! “I hate fire. Hate it.”
And suddenly he was rambling on and on about his fear of fire, his childhood, his nightmares. No, no, no, you idiot! Mulder berated himself. It was the perfect moment, and he’d wrecked it.
“And Phoebe knows about this?” Scully questioned.
Mulder chuckled, his deadname ringing in his ears in Phoebe’s mocking tone. “This is classic Phoebe Green, mind game player extraordinaire! Ten years it’s taken me to forget about this woman, and she shows up in my life trying to tell everyone that I’m—” Mulder stopped short. Scully was looking at him like she was seeing him, really seeing him, for the first time. He was more afraid of that than he’d ever been of fire. “...afraid of a case like this.”
“So she shows up knowing the power she has over you and she makes you walk through fire, is that it?” Scully’s own eyes were blazing with something, perhaps protectiveness over him, and he smiled just a bit.
“Phoebe is fire.” Mulder turned to leave, hoping to just forget this had ever happened, when Scully called out his name. His name, not some awful monster from the past.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to help you out on this one?”
He knew he could change his mind. He knew he could ask her to come with him, tell her he needed her now more than ever, and she wouldn’t hesitate for even a second. But instead he just said, “Sooner or later, a man’s gotta face his demons,” and left Scully behind.
The case had been nothing short of a disaster. From the second that British woman had arrived, Scully had known something was off. Mulder’s greatest defense mechanism was his wit, and she’d neither heard nor seen so much of it in one go as she had when Phoebe was around. Scully was still haunted by the blank stare in Mulder’s eyes when Phoebe had said some woman’s name to him, a name she’d wanted to ask about but just couldn’t find the time to. And then Mulder had rushed head on into fire—twice—for God knew what reason. Scully had never felt more in the dark about anything, but she did know one thing: Mulder never left the office on a Friday night without saying goodbye.
That was the reason—the only reason, Scully told herself again and again—that she found herself walking down the hallway to Mulder’s apartment at 9pm on Friday night, not even having changed clothes when she went home to grab a quick bite of dinner. When she got to the door, she hesitated. This isn’t right, Scully thought. I’m sure Mulder had perfectly normal reasons for leaving the office so quickly. Maybe he wanted to catch a movie, or say goodbye to Phoebe… Something akin to jealousy made her knock.
“Mulder?” Scully called. “Mulder, it’s me.”
Silence.
See? her brain exclaimed to her. I told you it was a stupid thing to do. Let’s just go home, and—
“It’s open.”
Scully paused just a moment before she opened the door. Inside, it was completely dark. She could just barely make out Mulder’s cluttered desk from the light coming through the window. Gently, Scully stepped inside and closed the door behind her. “Mulder?”
“Over here.”
The voice was certainly her partner’s, but he didn’t sound like himself. Distraught, hopeless even. Before she could think she was turning on a light. The light blinded her for a moment, but when she adjusted, she felt worry flood her system. Mulder was wrapped tightly in a blanket, staring off into space like he had been the other day. His hair was a mess, and not an inch of his body save his head remained uncovered by the blanket.
Scully walked over to the couch and sat down beside her partner, searching his face for answers. “Mulder, what’s wrong?”
Mulder made a small humming noise and turned away from her. Instinctively, Scully reached out her hand and placed it on his shoulder. Mulder flinched away, hard. Now that was odd. Mulder loved physical touch; every hand swipe, shoulder tap, forehead kiss, or anything else he could get into any interaction, he would. Something was very, very wrong.
“Mulder, talk to me,” Scully said softly, turning to face the back of his head. “Is this about the fire?”
Mulder shook his head.
“Is this about…” Scully bit her lip. She took a breath and continued. “Is this about that name Phoebe said to you?”
“Go away, Scully.”
“Mulder—”
“Scully, go away! ”
For a moment, Scully was speechless. Mulder had never talked to her like that before. Her brain was telling her to leave, to turn off the light and go back home and forget that this had ever happened. But something in her gut told her to push it. Mulder needed this. She didn’t know what it was, and she didn’t know why, but she knew Mulder. And she knew he needed her right now.
“A woman’s name,” Scully said quietly. “Who, Mulder? Someone you knew? Someone you were...with?”
Nothing.
Scully sighed. “Mulder, who is—”
“DON’T SAY IT!”
Scully jumped as Mulder whirled around and grabbed her arm just a bit too tightly. She looked into his eyes and realized they were wet with tears.
“Please don’t say that name. I can’t—” Mulder’s breath hitched, and he looked away, ashamed. “I can’t hear you say that name.”
Scully had no idea what to do, so she just put her hand on his and waited for his explanation. Slowly, Mulder loosened his grip on her arm, and slowly, he reached out to touch her hand. His eyes met hers. A question. She took his hand, and Mulder released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.
“That name,” Mulder whispered, “is...me. Or, was me. I’m...trans.”
Before Scully could say anything, Mulder was rambling.
“You see, before I moved to England, I was friends with a lot of these geniuses. Well, geniuses for high school, anyway. Kind of like the Lone Gunman! You don’t know the Lone Gunman. That’s not the point. Anyway, before I moved to England, these guys messed with my school credentials to get them to show up as Fox William Mulder on the transcript, so I could go stealth in college. I started testosterone just out of high school, so by the time I showed up to Oxford, I was already far enough along to pass. The plan was to keep my head down, pursue my interests, graduate, and get the hell out. But then...I met Phoebe.
“I was young, and I was stupid, and she was infatuated by my smart mouth and my foreign accent, and before long we got to being a couple. And we got to kissing. And we got to doing...other things. Things I’d never, um… done with anyone before. But I thought it was love, and I thought I could trust her, so I let her see all of me. And she…didn’t take it the way I thought she would.”
Mulder let go of Scully’s hand for a moment and looked away. She noticed him wiping tears away from his eyes and pretended not to notice. Mulder seemed hesitant to get going again, so she placed her hand on his again. He nodded gently and continued.
“At first, Phoebe said she was fine with it. She said she thought it was...hot.” Mulder visibly shivered a bit at that. “So I told myself hey, you know, that’s just how it’s gonna be when you're like this. It could’ve been a lot worse, you should be thankful that she even likes that about you. But then time went on, and Phoebe being Phoebe, she turned it into a...a game.
“Somehow she managed to find my deadname on some old record or paper or who-knows-what, and she started to use it at random times or with random people. Every time she did it, I would freeze up, and she would laugh and smile about it like it was some great thing that she got that kind of reaction out of me. Sometimes she would use it when we were, um...you know…and eventually it got so bad that I asked her to stop. I told her that it had to stop, that it wasn’t a game anymore. She just told me that those were the rules of the game, and I had to play by them or give up.
“So I quit. I told her we were over and I left her.” Mulder let out a wry chuckle and stared at the ceiling, willing new tears to go away. “I always knew that Phoebe was ruthless, but somehow, in my reckless passion, it had escaped me that she was cruel. By the next day, she had—” Mulder’s voice broke. Scully wanted nothing more than to snap Phoebe’s neck, but instead she squeezed his hand. “She had told everybody. All the students she knew, all the professors, everybody. Everybody knew Fox Mulder’s dirty secret. And when I went to her, screaming, asking her how she could have possibly done this to me, another human being, she just told me that she’d won and walked off.”
Mulder sniffled, pulling his hand away again to rub his eyes. “I almost dropped out at least three times. The only thing keeping me going was the hope that I’d be able to make it in the field I wanted. And I did. I moved back to the States, joined the FBI, and got my little secluded office away from everyone else.” Mulder met Scully’s eyes and smiled, finally. “At least here they call me Spooky instead of…something else.” After a moment, Mulder seemed to realize that he’d actually told her all of that. She knew, and he couldn’t take it back. He was trans, and she knew.
Mulder was trans. Oh. OH. “Oh,” Scully said out loud by accident.
“Oh?” Mulder asked, searching her face. He looked like a kicked puppy, waiting for the next slap or yell, waiting for her to tell him she hated him or found him disgusting. He seemed about ready to go back into his shell, pull away from her and never come back. Scully pushed down all of her hatred of Phoebe and everyone else who had ever made Mulder feel anything less than loved, and smiled.
“That’s fine,” Scully said.
Mulder blinked. “Huh?”
“I said, ‘That’s fine,’” Scully repeated for him. “It doesn’t change anything, Mulder. You’re just as much of a guy as you were ten minutes ago. With the same bad jokes, and boyish habits, and—”
In an instant, Mulder’s arms were wrapped tightly around Scully’s torso. His face was pressed tightly into her shoulder and he was sobbing. Scully immediately hugged him back, resting one hand on his back and carding the other through his hair.
“You know I love you, Mulder,” Scully murmured, and he cried even harder.
They stayed like that for a few minutes, Scully gently holding him while he let out every emotion he’d never let himself feel. Finally, when his sobs came down to little hiccups and his breathing evened out, Scully pressed a kiss to the top of his head. A purely platonic, professional kiss, of course. Mulder gave Scully one last squeeze before pulling away. He looked down at his lap and played with his hands for a minute before speaking again.
“Thank you, Scully,” Mulder whispered, looking up at her.
She smiled and wiped a spare tear from his cheek. “Of course, Mulder.”
Monday came far too fast for Mulder. He’d arrived early to the office, hoping to have a few hours to himself before Scully arrived. He hadn’t seen his partner since Friday night, when he’d more or less had a complete breakdown in her arms. Scully had offered to spend the night there, make sure he was really alright, but he’d insisted she go home. After all, he didn’t own a spare—or any—bed for her to sleep on.
Ever since, Mulder had tortured himself over what Monday would be like. What if Scully had just felt too awkward to call him a freak on Friday? What if she’d changed her mind over the weekend? Maybe she wouldn’t even come to the office today, instead having requested to change locations without so much as a goodbye.
Before Mulder could jump onto his next paranoid fear, a voice at the door startled him from his thoughts.
“Care to take me to lunch?” someone with a British accent inquired.
Mulder jumped, fearing the worst, and turned to the door. It was only Scully, giggling a tiny bit.
“I’m sorry, that was mean,” she said, but Mulder only laughed. “Did I scare you?”
“You have no idea,” Mulder replied.
“So…” Scully began, walking closer. “Where is Phoebe?”
Mulder noted the murderous glint in her eyes and felt his heart swell a bit. He smiled. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” Scully asked suspiciously. She seemed rather disappointed that she didn’t have a chance to beat up the Brit before she’d skipped town. “She didn’t call?”
“No.” Mulder picked up a cassette tape he’d found in his mailbox that morning and showed it to Scully. “She did drop this off last night, though.”
“Did you play it?”
Mulder gave it a glance, looked at Scully, and smiled once again. For the first time in his life, he felt like Phoebe Green couldn’t touch him. “No.”
“Why not?” Scully inquired, testing him. “Aren’t you curious what’s on it?”
“Ten to one you can’t dance to it,” Mulder quipped. He looked at Scully once again, and threw the tape in the trash. “And besides, who cares what that bitch has to say?”
Finally, Scully laughed. It was a genuine laugh, something Mulder had hardly ever gotten out of Phoebe even on her best days. Mulder found himself laughing a bit too, but not from the joke. He just couldn’t contain how much he loved having Scully down here.
“Hey, Mulder, I made you something,” Scully said. She reached into her bag and rifled around for a moment before pulling out a beautiful scarf. Blue, pink, and white—the colors of the trans flag. Scully held it out to Mulder hesitantly. “Now, if you don’t want it, that’s completely fine, because I know that you’ve been living stealth for a while. I just wanted you to have a reminder that I love you and I support you, and that you’re so valid and this doesn’t change anything between us. But again, you won’t hurt my feelings if you—”
“Scully.” Mulder looked up at his partner, his eyes wet with tears again. “I love it.”
Scully grinned. “You do?”
“Oh, absolutely I do.” Mulder grabbed the scarf and dramatically wrapped it around his neck. “How do I look?”
“Hm,” Scully pondered. “Manly.”
“Now you’re just feeding my ego.”
They both laughed for a moment before Mulder reached out to grab Scully’s hand.
“Look, Scully…you don’t know how much this means to me. I just…I love you, too. I mean, your presence in my life. You know what I mean.”
Scully blushed a bit and rubbed her thumb over her partner’s hand. “I know.”
Mulder could feel something swelling in his chest, something perhaps even more terrifying than fire or Phoebe or being outed. Oh, no, was he falling in love with—
“So you knitted this whole thing this weekend?” Mulder forced out. “That’s impressive. I didn’t know Agent Dana Scully could knit.”
They spent the rest of the day just talking, doing absolutely zero official FBI work, and perhaps beginning to look at each other in ways not entirely platonic or professional.