GHOST IN THE MACHINE (1x07)
Mulder doesn't know what it's like.
Ever since he messed up the evidence, the name 'Jerry Lamana' has been used as an adjectival phrase to describe massive fuck ups in procedure. 'Spooky' might've been a designated nickname, but it was Mulder's eccentricities that earned him the ridicule.
His very name wasn't the joke.
Not too long after 'the incident,' Jerry overheard some fellow agents gossiping about him. "How did Spooky get partnered with a clod like that?"
In the Hoover Building, there was a hierarchy. You never really had to question your position in the rankings because it felt like people would go out of their way to make it known to you.
"That's not how it was."
Even thinking of the words leaving Mulder's mouth still made Jerry itchy with irritation. For a profiling genius, he was pretty fucking inept at recognizing that no one at the FBI thought less of Mulder than he did himself. Sure, people made fun of him, but it was low-hanging fruit, and there was nothing as desperate as the grasp of a man trying to cling to anything that would keep him from being at the bottom of the proverbial pyramid. People had no problem condemning Mulder if it meant their own pathetic shortcomings would go unnoticed.
It was just annoying to him that Mulder didn't understand that. Jerry even explicitly laid it out in front of him, and Mulder still looked at him with that same earnest expression that just fueled his resentment. While Jerry Lamana was a name to be condemned, Fox Mulder was one to aspire to. Unlike Mulder, when fellow agents made fun of him it wasn't a self-defense mechanism. Newbie agents fawned over the man's impressive work, and the real pricks, the ones who hated Mulder because of his success, were quick to spread the rumors about Spooky Mulder, stamping on the embers that threatened to turn into flames of adoration.
It was easy to play off the jealousy as judgment. Mulder might not be a loser, but he was odd, eccentric, spooky. None of those things were really anything people thought about Mulder though, maybe those who only heard whispers, the game of office telephone warping the truth that Fox Mulder was the type of agent everyone dreamt of being. Brilliant, witty, and charming.
Mulder was the best partner he'd ever had, and sometimes he hated his fucking guts. He just didn't understand how his mind worked. During their partnership, it felt like they were always looking at the same Rorschach test, but he'd only ever see ink stains while Mulder would see a Da Vinci embedded on the page.
That's why he'd asked for Mulder's help. Some fucking newbie agent asked if he was the guy who sent evidence to laundry, and while he said it, all Jerry could focus on was Fox Mulder's monograph tucked under the rookie's arm with post-it notes marking all the pages where Fox Mulder was brilliant.
He knew he could ask for Mulder's help, take advantage of his work, and the guy would be too insecure to make any waves. He was nice on top of everything, and in moments like this, Jerry felt like a teenage bully picking on the defenseless younger kids because he was jealous of how adults fawned over how cute they were while he sat in an ugly, uncomfortable body.
It worked too, for a moment while he was cloaked in the disguise of Mulder's intelligence, he was treated with dignity for the first time in months.
Mulder confronted him, but they both knew what happened and after that conversation, nothing more would come of it. He felt bad. Really, he did, but the feelings of guilt didn't outweigh how good it felt to hear praise associated with his name.
The nerves he had leading up to the meeting had died down, the anxiety he felt in his chest as he passed his old partner's genius off as his own had faded, but there was a rock of self-hatred that was sitting at the pit of his stomach, placed there personally by Agent Scully.
He'd had his fair share of women look at him with disgust, but… not like she had. For every ounce of resignation Mulder held, Agent Scully matched him with indignation on his behalf. Mulder left that meeting with his shoulders slumped. He looked embarrassed, and Jerry couldn't figure out if it was because Mulder was taken advantage of by his former partner or because his current one was there to hear it. The same thing that made him feel guilty was the same thing he'd been banking on this whole time. Mulder wasn't really upset about his work going uncredited, his feelings were hurt because Jerry took advantage of his kindness. Mulder wouldn't really put up a fight, but just accept the hurt.
Whenever Mulder got that depressed look on his face, Jerry always backed off and gave him space. He was the smart one after all, he'd sort it out himself. But after the meeting, when he saw Mulder start to retreat into himself like he always did, Agent Scully was right at his side. It amazed him how the woman could rub Mulder's shoulder while simultaneously glaring Jerry's way with such vehemence he felt his blood acidify.
He'd always considered Mulder a professional in the art of self-flagellation, but maybe no one had ever tried to combat his own propensity for self-destruction. Although he was pretty sure Scully wouldn't be allowing him anywhere near Mulder in the near future, he had to admit he was intrigued to see how Mulder might change with a woman like that by his side.
After working with Mulder, Jerry always just figured the man was a lone wolf who worked better alone, maybe all he needed was a gentle hand there to intervene.
But then again, Jerry's profiling skills paled in comparison to Mulder's. Maybe they were just fucking.