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The end of the group's most recent mission had ended with much success. No one had suffered (save for their target, of course) and it had been quick and simple. They all rejoiced upon their safe return, London's feared devils slinking back into the shadows. That is, until they found another soul to drag down into the depths of hell.
"Thank you, everyone, for your involvement once more. I'm grateful for each one of you." William said with a little smile, truth and melancholy melding together. This plan was the most important thing he would do with his life, and he would devote all he had to accomplish it. He accepted that he was the demon the papers spoke of, which sparked fear even in the minds of the young children. He needed the groups’ help to complete their plan, and yet, he needed to shoulder this burden alone. The weight was immense, but the change the plan would bring forth would be all worth his anguish.
"You especially, Fred." Moran's expression held a pleasant grin as he gave him a pat on the back. It was a little too strong but Fred recognized that it was a well-intended gesture.
Fred was the one tasked with their mission's disguises, should they be in need of one. He found it amusing, in a way. Entertaining, at the very least. It was interesting to be someone you're not for a time. There he stood, surrounded by the others in a long blond wig and a dress adorned with pale blue floral print. He hadn't yet changed out of his disguise, as they had only just arrived back at the manor.
"I'm certain the plan would have been successful, whether I was a part of it or not." Fred could never be sure how one properly accepted compliments. He always felt slightly awkward but enjoyed it nonetheless.
"Don't be so modest, will ya?" Moran's boisterous laugh quickly filled the room.
"He is right, Fred. You were very important to the completion of this mission." James spoke up, smiling cheerfully, glad he was being appreciated.
"Never thought I would get to hear you admit that. You getting soft on me, Bond?" Moran flashed a victorious smirk over at James, a teasing glint in his dark eyes. Fred swore they would never stop competing against each other, despite the fact that they were now romantically involved.
"Not even in your dreams, Sebastian." James stalked ever closer to Moran, a mischievous smirk to counter Moran's own. "We both know you're the one who has gone soft." He reached up and yanked on Moran's jacket collar, pulling his face down close to his. He whispered something in his ear that the others would probably be thankful they couldn't hear. Moran simply chuckled in response, and the two gazed into each other's eyes with a wild intensity.
Aaaaaand that was Fred's cue to leave, along with everyone else. Ducking out of the room, Fred headed through the halls to get changed. Upon arriving back at his room, he stepped in front of the mirror for what should have been one last, brief moment. That night, he would maintain that this was a terrible decision. At least, that's how he felt then.
The reflection staring back at him offered a graceful, beautiful being. Fred's hands smoothed their way over the soft, delicate skirt, and he couldn't help but smile a bit to himself. "Pretty..." He mumbled, but somewhere in his mind insisted that he was referring to himself, not the craftsmanship of the dress.
Why? Why would such a thought spring to his mind? Shaking his head to snap himself out of these bouts of confusion, his eyes met the mirror's gaze once more. He tried to reach for his wig, yet his hands wouldn't allow him to remove it. Instead, they fiddled with some strands that hung down below his shoulders. He often found that strange things brought him little bursts of joy, and it seemed that this was one of them.
Daring to go further, Fred spun in front of the mirror, watching the light material of the dress as it fluttered slowly back to his feet. For a moment, pride swelled in his chest. It was an odd sensation: warm, perhaps even exciting? A smile graced his lips without him even realizing it. There was something about this that he couldn’t place. It wasn’t as if this was the first time he had been in disguise, but perhaps it was the first time he allowed himself to think such strange things.
Fred often felt disconnected from himself, his mind and his body dragging him in opposite directions. There were times when he could feel at peace, but there was something hiding behind it, almost as if veiled in a facade. He could be fine one moment and want to shroud himself in darkness and disappear the next. It was a presence that crept up behind him and swallowed him without warning. Nothing about it made sense. “There’s something wrong with me, isn’t there?” Fred let his thoughts fall, buried by the silence of the room.
Taking off the wig, he took one final look at the mirror’s deceptive sight before turning his back. He needed to get out of his head and put these muddled thoughts to rest. Changing back into his usual clothes took time, as certain disguises of his were more elaborate than others. Before he picked up his shirt to put it back on, he observed himself for a moment. His arms were slender, much like the rest of him. His hands were small, dainty even. Moran had teasingly called him 'baby hands' once before, but it had never really bothered him. Everything felt so very odd.
~~~~~
A week or so passed by without much clarity. In his spare time, Fred scoured the books in the manor. Anything related to the mind that could possibly share even the slightest semblance of what he felt inside. Still, he came out of it empty-handed. His brain was wracked with question upon questions, piling higher with each day until it became almost insurmountable.
Fred was grateful when he was called in for a new mission, needing something to distract his weary mind. It seemed that he was the only one who had been called considering, when he entered, the room was empty save for William. William, sitting solemnly in the armchair with a stack of papers in his lap, greeted him with his usual pleasant tone. “Good evening, Fred. The mission I have for you involves the gathering of information about a suspected criminal, Edgar Wright.”
William continued to describe the list of various heinous crimes he had been tasked with getting information about. They needed confirmation of their suspicions, and Fred was the best with stealth in their group. As he spoke, Fred saw an opportunity. The thought entered his mind without warning and left his lips just as quickly. “Would there be the need for a disguise in this mission?”
William blinked back a hint of surprise. “I do not believe it is necessary, but I suppose so.” His words were a bit slower, taking in what he assumed was some sort of excitement? He couldn’t be completely sure yet, but the evidence had led him to this conclusion. Fred’s eyes widened ever so slightly, nearly imperceptible, but there it was.
“I see, I will begin preparations and be ready for midnight tomorrow, just as planned. Thank you for your instruction.” Seeing as William had finished discussing the details of the case in full, Fred bowed slightly, as he often did, before heading off. That strange feeling emerged once again. Perhaps it was akin to something buried in his chest, growing little by little, nearly ready to blossom.
Fred took his time arranging his disguise, ensuring every detail was accounted for. He had chosen a dark wig, nearly matching that of his own hair, with little waves. The perfect disguise always enveloped him with a sense of satisfaction, and this one was no different. Perhaps it was even better.
Time moved quickly, anticipation weaving its way throughout the day's usual activities. As the moment arrived when he could get dressed, his thoughts were consumed once more with many questions.
A dress isn't the most practical attire for a mission, what if I'm caught?
Am I simply wasting materials or opportunities that could be of more use for other missions?
Why did I blurt out my question so quickly, and in front of Mr. William no less?
He had to shake them off, devote the entirety of his mind to the task at hand.
"Out for a mission Fred?" The sudden voice in the hallway was a welcome distraction, although he wasn't sure where James came from. James observed him for a moment before a fond smile appeared on his face. “The long hair suits you well.”
Momentarily at a loss for words, unsure how to comprehend what he had just heard, Fred could feel his lips beginning to quirk into a small smile, and ducked his face into his scarf. “Yes, Mr. William has asked me to gather information about someone. There is a suspected meeting tonight, and I must follow him to see if it is more than a simple rumor.” He wasn’t sure how to answer James’ comment, so he simply didn’t. “I will have to be on my leave now, I must arrive early enough to observe his movements.”
“Be safe.” He heard James wish him well as he headed to the door, still smiling to himself under his scarf, determined to hide these feelings away. If it was unknown to everyone else, perhaps, in time, it would become unknown to him too. Yet, he couldn’t pass up an opportunity such as this. The urge to explore these odd feelings, to uncover the little mysteries they held, was equal to his urge to crush the confusion beneath his heel. Nothing was making sense.
The mission itself wasn’t so exciting. Peering down from the rooftops, hunched low so he wouldn’t be visible, he watched him all through the night, even as he climbed into bed. No suspicious activity could be found, save for what he assumed was a secret nicotine addiction that he was hiding from his wife. It all seemed to be in order. Of course, he wasn’t cleared from suspicion just yet, but William’s order was for that night alone. When there was word that would garner further suspicion, Fred would resume his task once more.
As he made his way back to the manor through the dim alleyways, the sun’s rays now illuminating London’s streets, Fred wasn’t the slightest bit tired. He had often endured long, sleepless nights in his youth; the chill of winter biting through his clothes during his time in the slums made it difficult to get a peaceful rest. He would be forever grateful that the Moriartys took him in. If it weren’t for their kindness, he wasn’t sure that he would even be alive to see this day.
He was stopped briefly on his way home by the gentle tugging on his skirt. Spinning around on his heels, preparing for whatever threat may be at hand, he was relieved to see that it was only a little girl. She was quite small, probably only about six years of age. His alarmed expression faded as there was no longer any danger. “Is something wrong?” Fred asked carefully, unsure of why this child had approached him. He crouched down beside her so he could better hear her speak over the already bustling streets.
“You look pretty!” The girl exclaimed, smiling brightly and holding out a small daisy. "For you!" She was trying to reach for his head, it seemed, and was having difficulty doing so. Fred ducked his head down and she carefully laced the daisy into his hair, just above his ear.
"Thank you, it's lovely." Fred's words were soft, his smile evident in his dark eyes, glistening slightly in the sun's light.
The girl promptly ran off, shouting a 'Bye bye!' And waving back at him. He had truly been touched by her sweet gesture, and would cherish this gift for as long as time would allow him. Perhaps he would press it when he arrived back at the manor so he could treasure it completely.
After reporting his findings to William, Fred felt dazed, blaming a lack of sleep instead of all his mind's intruding questions. As he reached his room, he placed the flower carefully on his side table so it wouldn't be crushed. Dropping onto his bed, he let his eyes close for a short time, leaving him quickly drifting into the peaceful sleep he so deserved.
~~~~~
Awakening suddenly, the sun bright in his eyes, Fred realized his mistake. He hadn't even changed out of his disguise before immediately falling asleep. Peering into the mirror's reflective surface, he noted the wig, now in complete disarray. A small groan could be heard amidst the silence of the room as he attempted to straighten it out with no success.
But first, he wanted to preserve that precious memory from that morning. Grabbing a notebook from beside his bed, he placed it gently between the pages. He tagged the corner of the paper so he could find it easily before shutting it. His fingers brushed the book's bindings with a gentle smile.
Now all that was left was to change back into his usual clothes. He removed the wig with ease, but the dress was another matter. There he was, that same dilemma pinning him down, forcing him to be frozen in place.
Why can't I do it?
The thought echoed in his mind, dragging him back to that day. It seemed like an eternity since he was left in this very position, unmoving, stranded alone with only his confusion. How could something that brought him so much joy and confidence break him down just as easily?
Fred's head was swimming with unresolved questions. Questions. Questions. It always came back to them, yet, he could never find an answer, life dragging him further and further away from truth.
His movements were jerking, removing the dress in a few quick motions all at once before his mind had time to crowd with thoughts. The quicker he could no longer feel its soft fabric against him, the quicker this feeling would go away. That's what he wanted.
Yet there he was, left without that pretty gown, and a pang of loss made its way through him. To his mind, to his heart. The frustration left in this wake only made it worse. "I don't understand," Fred mumbled, staring himself down from that sight in the mirror.
It finally dawned on him that this gripping hopelessness would not be resolved on his own. Even the aid of books hadn't helped, so how did he expect this to become clear by just his mind, slowly crumbling under this pressure? He needed to talk with someone. James, perhaps.
Fred and James quickly grew close after he had first arrived at the manor. Fred felt comfortable confiding in him, even sharing his innermost thoughts that would normally stay hidden away. They were each other's family, and trusted one another completely.
After hurriedly dressing himself, Fred searched around the manor, hoping James wasn't out on a mission. He found him lounging on the sofa in one mainly unused sitting room, with a sleeping Moran's head resting in his lap. James was fiddling gently with some of the spiked strands of his dark hair.
Seeing the two, he didn't want to interrupt their tender moment or wake him, but it was too late. James spotted him from the corner of the room and ushered him to come in. Approaching the sofa carefully he stared down at Moran's expression, one full of peace. "How did you manage to get him to do this?" Fred's voice was quiet as he spoke.
"He protested at first, but I could see through it." James laughed gently about his stubborn partner's nature. Why the man wouldn't simply admit that he desired affection James would never know. "Did your mission go well?"
"Yes, but uneventful. Do you have a moment to talk?" Fred continued his whispering as James peered up at him.
"I believe I can slip away." James carefully lifted Moran's head from up off of him and placed a throw pillow under it before climbing off the couch. He stretched slightly and followed as Fred headed off in another direction.
The silence was deafening as they walked back to Fred's room, the only place he was sure they could speak openly without prying eyes. Upon reaching it, he unceremoniously dropped onto the bed. There he lay, eyes glued to the ceiling as they had been that very morning.
James peered over so his head came into Fred's view. "Is there something the matter?" His question was careful as he moved to sit down on a chair near the bedside.
"How did you realize who you really are?" Fred's voice was heavy, hesitance laboring his words.
James was unsure what brought this question to his mind but would answer gladly. "As a child, I often felt disconnected from myself. 'What a pretty young lady' everyone would say as I pranced around in my little dresses. I have never had a problem with gowns, despite the physical discomfort they caused occasionally. I still recognize the beauty of them now. It was the 'lady' that unnerved me. At the time, I recognized that was all they would see as they looked at me, and that was what ate away at me. The moment that I truly understood came when I was walking along with my parents. I was still quite young at the time, no more than eight years old. We walked past a shop, and through the window, I spotted a man admiring himself in a suit. I couldn't tear my eyes away from that sight, and I recall thinking to myself 'I want to be just like that man'."
As James recounted the details of his realizations, Fred sat up, listening more intently.
"Of course, I kept that as my own little secret for quite some time. I knew who I was, and was certain of it, but I knew what would happen had I shared that with someone." Such severe consequences it could have. A silence followed that ripped through their conversation. They both knew what had remained unspoken, but neither would let themselves discuss it.
James' voice was filled with great, gentle sentiment, sweetness and melancholy embedded deep within it. "Yet, now I have all of you, and this life is more than I ever imagined I would be allowed. To be loved without condition. To be loved, not in spite of who I am, but as I am. I am truly grateful for every one of you, and the acceptance and kindness I have been shown." Beautiful. Messy, yet beautiful. That's what life was.
"We are grateful to have you, James." Fred could be quite skeptical of strangers, but James hadn't been one of them. Even upon their first meeting, he found it strangely easy to connect with him, despite their many differences.
It seemed they were quite different, after all.
A small, knowing smile appeared on James' lips as he watched his sibling. "What made you ask?"
Hearing James' words caused dread to creep through his body. He had enough difficulty describing it to himself, how much worse would this be? "I had hoped hearing you discuss it would help me, but it seems that wasn't the case. Certain parts were similar, but most do not feel like me."
"Then how do you feel?" James prompted. He knew the difficulties that conversations such as these held. He knew it would never be easy, even if one knew that someone was accepting of someone like them. There would always be that lingering doubt that made even the kindest of people seem worthy of distrust.
Fred sighed to himself, closing his eyes. He wasn't sure he had it in him to meet James' bright eyes without shame flooding his body. "I'm... unsure of who I am. When I wear disguises - when I wear skirts or dresses - it's nice. I couldn't say when this began, but after those missions are complete, something feels odd. It doesn't make sense." Those words had been stewing in his brain for all that time. “Yet, I don’t feel like anything. Man, woman, nothing feels right. How are we to figure out who we are when the world will only wish ill upon us when we do realize?”
James recognized the hopelessness seeping into the air all around them. “We don’t deserve such punishments.”
Their heads both stooped low, the two soaked in the suffering society had forced upon them. The world around them threatened to suffocate any individuality, anyone they deemed abnormal. James, however, wouldn't allow it, couldn't allow it.
Yes, there had been hardships that came with who he is. There was a lack of acceptance, even violence. Yet, he had never felt so free. He remembered that feeling, that beautiful, sweeping emotionality of hearing his name for the first time. His name, Mr. James Bond. How could something so incredible seem so wrong to others?
"If you feel like neither man nor woman, is that not an answer in itself?" Fred's eyes jerked up to meet James', who was only smiling softly.
"That's… real?" There it was. The smallest glimmer of hope amidst the hopeless, drifting through Fred's mind.
James' smile grew brighter as he saw Fred's expression. "Who's to say it isn't? You feel how you feel, no one has the right to take that away from you."
Fred was stunned, utterly and completely. He never truly felt like one or the other, but knew, or rather, assumed, he would have to make up his mind. He now recalled his troubles of himself lurking in the shadows of his life in the past. All the pieces were now fitting together.
James moved from his seat to the bed, sitting by Fred's side, bringing an arm around his shoulders. "I will always be here to support you." He said, causing a smile, one permeated with warmth, to appear on Fred's lips. "Is there something you would rather I refer to you as?"
A lingering hesitance filled the now quiet bedroom. Fred opened his mouth to speak but quickly closed it. Could he really be allowed this? Such kindness and understanding? It still wasn't entirely clear even to himself, could he really allow someone else to bear this confusion alongside him? In the end, Fred still wasn't certain but trusted James completely.
"I like my name, it still feels like me, but-" He abruptly stopped speaking, to which James simply smiled at him, gently urging him to speak freely. "I realize I have no right to ask this of you, but perhaps could you refer to me as your sibling instead of your brother? This is by no means a criticism of the sentiment, I am very grateful for it, but…" Fred trailed off once more.
He didn't need to say more, and his concern hadn't been necessary. "You don't need to worry, you have said nothing rude. If you aren't comfortable with the term, of course I'll change it. You're my sibling, I care about you." James reassured, hoping Fred would feel the acceptance that James never had when he first realized.
The words swelled in Fred's chest, drowning him in emotions, threatening to overtake him. "Thank you, James." Happy tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.
James nodded before silence fell upon them. All was quiet, peaceful. Something then dawned on him a bit later, hopefully something helpful. "You know, there is another way I could address you if you'd like." Fred made a small 'hm?' sound, his curiosity evident in his gaze. "While it isn't used frequently, I have heard of others adopting 'they' for themselves to replace 'he' or 'she'."
"Really?" Fred asked, breath caught in his throat.
"Shakespeare himself used it in his plays," James replied with a nod.
A possibility. Something so little, and yet it screamed of previously unspoken possibility. "That sounds nice." Fred's words were quiet as they escaped his... no, their lips. They couldn't help but grin to themself at this new-found discovery.
"I'm glad I could be of help," James said, looking at Fred with a bright smile. They truly were alike, in some ways.
"You mentioned one day that long hair suits me. It made me happy. Perhaps, once I've told the others, I could grow it, or at least wear wigs around the manor on occasion." Fred mused to themself. It was a pretty image, something to push them forward. Little milestones, each one enthralling in its own way.
James gave Fred's shoulder a small squeeze. "When that time comes, I can help you tell them if you wish. Even if all that entails is standing with you, I will be there."
Fred nodded, their eyes brimming with tears from a promising future. Surely there would be difficulty, they could see that easily. Yet, everything felt so bright and beautiful, they couldn't help but be optimistic. "Do you think one day there will be a word for people like us?"
James let out a small sigh, though still, his lips held that grin of his. "I have no doubt. I'm certain that, somewhere out there, there are others like us. I'm simply glad we have each other."
There they sat, savoring their shared experiences. They were grateful, the loneliness from a lack of understanding that came from most others seemed lessened. They had each other and would take care of and support one another always. That's what family is for, after all.
~~~~~
It took a few months before Fred felt truly ready to tell the other members of their group. With James by their side, reassuring them and cheering them on, the two moved onward.
James had called for everyone to gather in the sitting room, not explaining why. The rest of the group milled about, confusion seeping into the air. After some time, they all took a seat, awaiting their arrival. Upon hearing the thudding of James' footsteps through the halls, their attention was beckoned towards it.
In walked Fred, adorning a pale red dress and a long dark wig. At first, the only one who had any sort of reaction at all was William, whose eyes widened ever so slightly. The others were completely calm as if nothing had happened. Fred took their seat, James moving to sit next to them.
Moran was the first to speak up. "Did you call us all together to send Fred off for a mission?" He asked James, hands stuffed in his pockets. So that was the reason for their lack of response, Fred thought to themself.
"No, Mr. William has not given me an assignment for tonight. I have chosen to dress like this for myself." Fred paused for a moment, observing each member's reaction. As expected, Moran looked utterly confused. Louis and Albert simply seemed to be waiting intently, ready to listen. Then there was William, whose expression had a gentle air about it. When Fred's eyes met with his, William merely smiled. Perhaps he was a bit too intuitive.
"I came to a realization recently, and I feel it's too important to keep to myself." Fred wanted that feeling again. Wanted that feeling of excitement, that rush they got when someone recognized them for who they are. "I am not a man, in a similar way that James is not a woman."
"So you're a woman now?" Moran asked with well-meaning intention. He wasn't the greatest when it came to things changing, but he cared about Fred very much, so he would try his best to understand.
Fred simply shook their head before continuing. "The best way I can explain it is that I'm not either. I'm simply... me. Fred. A person." As Fred spoke, everything around them seemed almost lighter, more joyous. They had told everyone. They did that. A wave of relief washed over them, and they took it all in. Every bit of this moment would surely be one to remember.
Fred then nodded in James' direction, allowing him to take over, as they planned. "I have been referring to Fred using 'they' and ‘them’, as Shakespeare has done." James made sure to include that reference so that it may explain the context for how it's used.
"Thank you for informing us, Fred. I will ensure we all address you accordingly." Louis was the first one to speak. At the time, Fred wasn't aware of just how serious Louis was being. They later found out that Louis took this very seriously, and he would affix anyone with a cold glare until they realized. This only occurred once, when Moran mistakenly called Fred his brother. He quickly corrected himself and ensured it never happened again after that.
William had suspected something along these lines since the day they jumped at the chance to wear a dress, among other things. He was grateful that they had come to tell them all. William's gaze was one so filled with warmth. "Thank you, Fred, for trusting us all with this."
Moran left his seat on the couch to come and give Fred a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Glad to have you here, Fred, no matter who you are."
Albert rose from his chair and gathered some glasses, handing one to everyone, and a bottle of wine. "Perhaps this calls for a toast. The realization of who you are is surely cause for celebration." He went around the room, pouring everyone a glass before raising his up. "To Fred." The others followed suit, their glasses now raised.
"To Fred!" The words resonated throughout the room, and Fred swore it resounded in their heart as well. While they knew that others might not be so kind, as they were, they knew they had the love and support of their family, and that was what truly mattered.