Title: Smallville X
Author: Vickie Moseley
Summary: Mulder and Scully are sent to Smallville to
investigate the strange happenings surround a teen-
Category: X, Crossover (Smallville), MSR
Timeline: X Files: Virtual Season 11, Smallville:
Archives: Exclusive with VS 11 for two weeks, then
Author’s note: My apologies to avid Smallville fans.
I watch the show occasionally, so I might not have the
voices down. But it’s a great show, and the David
Nutter connection could not be ignored. Forgive me if
I screwed it up too much.
Special Thanks to Theresa for character knowledge.
by Vickie Moseley
Metropolis International Airport
January 23, 2004
“You can’t be serious.” Scully was standing next to
the baggage corral at the Metropolis International
Airport, arms crossed, ready to do battle.
“Scully, I’m not making this up. The kid is freaky!”
Mulder said, smiling around a sunflower seed stuck
between his front teeth.
“And you think this ‘freaky kid’ had something to do
with an explosion, power surge, what have you, that
leveled a farm and caused damage in the neighborhood
of millions of dollars? How, Mulder? Is this
‘Nuclear Boy’? What are we talking here?” She
spotted her two-suiter and lunged for it, dragging it
to safety before the tall Marine next to her tackled
his seabag, which was also hurrying around the corner
of the carousal.
“Actually, Scully, someone has dubbed the kid ‘Super
Boy’ but I’m not falling for it. And there is a
possible explanation,” he added as he pulled his well-
worn suitcase off the carousal and hoisted the strap
onto his shoulder.
“And that would be — ?” asked Scully, leading the way
through the crowded airport concourse and up to the
Lariat Rental Agency window where she pulled her
identification and gave their registration
“A meteor shower hit the area about a dozen years ago.
Some strange things resulted.”
“Strange? Mulder, after all these years, you have to
get a little more specific. What kind of strange?”
“A kid with gills, for one. A telepathic kid. A kid
that survived leukemia, a fatal car crash and a fatal
plane crash, for another. Some rather, well,
dangerous teenagers, and I’m not talking gang bangers
here, Scully. Dangerous in the mutant variety way.”
“A whole town of mutants? Mulder, how have you
managed to keep this garden spot off the tour?” she
asked, signing the rental agreement and picking up the
key with a nod to the attendant.
“I just found out about it, Scully. Smallville is,
well, rather small.”
“I’m trying to figure out why Skinner signed off on
this 302,” she said, pointing him in the direction of
the short term parking shuttle that would take them to
their rental car.
“A gentleman by the name of Lionel Luthor, head of
Luthorcorp and a major contributor to both political
parties, by the way, has convinced Director Tenet that
the FBI might want to look into this kid. He tossed
out words like ‘possible terrorist connections’ and
‘threat to national security’.”
“The buzz words of the day, these days,” Scully said
with a sigh.
“Exactly,” Mulder replied.
“But we don’t do terrorism, Mulder,” she pointed out
as they settled on the bus.
“I know. I’m not buying the terrorist line, anyway.
But the other stuff, the mutants, the meteor — that
has me intrigued. And this kid, Clark Kent, he seems
to show up just in the nick of time. He keeps saving
“Sounds like a town hero, not the town terrorist.”
“From what I can get on him, he’s the All-American
Boy, Scully. Darling son of Martha and Jonathan Kent,
straight A student, on the high school newspaper.
He’s every mother’s dream.”
“And the Director of the FBI thinks he might be a
terrorist. Well, at least we have a wonderful
Midwestern winter storm to look forward to,” Scully
mused as she nodded toward dark clouds on the western
horizon. “Five will get you ten we’re snowed in by
By the time they found the Sheriff’s office, it was
getting dark. The Sheriff, an overworked woman with a
dour expression, was less than helpful.
“The Kents are good people. I don’t think you should
be botherin’ ’em,” she said flatly. She then gave
them sketchy directions on where to locate the Kent
farm and let them out the door.
“I thought small towns were supposed to be ‘friendly’,
Scully,” Mulder quipped as they made their way back to
the rental. True to Scully’s earlier prediction, it
had started to snow.
Scully looked up at the sky. “What will it be,
Mulder? The Kents, who arguably won’t be going
anywhere and in all likelihood will be there tomorrow,
or a nice warm motel, preferably one with a claw
footed bath tub that’s big enough for two?”
He winced. “Don’t be a tease to me, Scully,” he
She shook her head and sighed. “I was expecting as
much, Mulder. To the Kents, but you are driving!”
They arrived at Jonathan and Martha Kent’s house just
after sunset. The lights in the window made for a
cheery and welcome sight in the howling wind and
blowing snow. As they approached the front door,
Mulder could smell something . . . pork chops, maybe,
cooking inside. His stomach rumbled loud enough to be
heard over the wind.
“Muzzle that thing, G-Man,” Scully scolded as she
looked for and found the doorbell.
In the interest of time, both agents had their
identification wallets in their hands when someone
answered the door. Mulder got his wish — it was the
“Can I help you folks? You lost or something?” Clark
asked warily as he looked from one agent to the other.
“I’m Special Agent Mulder and this is Special Agent
Scully. We’re with the FBI. We were wondering if you
could answer some questions. You are Clark Kent,
aren’t you?” Mulder asked with an ingratiating smile.
That name, Mulder. Where had he seen it? Clark
searched his memory and finally came up with the
answer. Chloe’s Wall of Weird. Agent Fox Mulder, aka
M. F. Luder, FBI agent with a penchant for the weird
and unusual. Believed his sister was abducted by
aliens. What a thought. And his partner, Dana
Scully. She had been missing for three months, if
Chloe’s research was correct. They were coming to
Which brought up another set of questions. How much
could he reveal to these people? Hiding the truth, if
the WOW was right, would only cause them to dig
deeper. He might not be happy with the results.
The two agents were standing in the doorway, smiling
at him. He saw the woman, Agent Scully, shiver. He
couldn’t turn them away.
“Uh, yeah, I’m Clark. Just a minute,” Clark said and
turned away from the door. “Uh, Mom, Dad, there’re
some special agents here from the FBI!” he yelled
toward the back of the house.
“I have all the paperwork for that fertilizer right
here in my desk, Agents. Clark, where are your
manners? Let the folks in out of that weather!”
Jonathan Kent chided as he walked into the room,
drying his hands on a dishtowel. Martha Kent followed
in behind him, a wooden spoon in her hand.
“Clark, get these folks some coffee, it’s freezing out
there,” Martha commanded. “Or would you prefer tea?”
she asked lightly.
“No, thank you, coffee does sound good, Mrs. Kent.
But we’d like Clark to stay and answer some questions,
if you don’t mind,” Scully said politely as she
followed Jonathan into the living room and took a seat
next to her partner.
“Clark? He doesn’t buy the fertilizer. I do,”
“They aren’t here about fertilizer, Dad,” Clark said
uneasily, exchanging a look with both his parents.
“Mom, could you get that coffee, please?”
“What’s this about, Agent, uh, Mulder, did you say?”
asked Jonathan, not looking at all pleased.
“Yes, sir, Mulder. Well, to be perfectly honest, sir,
we’re here to find out what we can about some
occurrences during the past few years. An explosion
that leveled this farm, for one.”
Martha was back with the coffee and the tray in her
hand slipped when she heard Mulder’s comment. The
coffee cups, four steaming ones, started the long
descent to the floor. Faster than anyone could see,
Clark was standing beside his mother, holding the
tray, cups intact.
“OK, and I think that would be something else we’re
interested in,” Mulder added dryly, nodding toward
Clark and Martha and the undisturbed tray.
“He’s tried out for the track team,” Martha said
“Mom, we better sit down,” Clark said sadly. There
was no way they’d walk quietly away now, he had to
tell them the truth. At least Agent Mulder looked
like the honest sort.
Half an hour later, Clark was finished with his tale.
“So when you’re exposed to this, what is it again?”
Mulder asked, jotting furiously in his notebook.
“Kryptonite. It’s found in small deposits around
here. It was in that meteor shower,” Clark responded.
“When you’re exposed to this kryptonite, it makes you
sick or weak or . . . evil?” Mulder continued.
“Just the red stuff makes me evil. I couldn’t control
my impulses. The green stuff, well that just makes me
“It’s almost killed him, a couple of times,” Martha
interjected. By now the poor woman was pale as a
ghost, twisting a tea towel in her hands. “You aren’t
going to . . . take him away, are you? Please, he’s
just a boy,” she pleaded.
Scully looked over at Mulder and shrugged. “I’m hard
pressed to find where Clark has any terrorist
leanings,” she said softly.
“Terrorist? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever
heard of!” Jonathan howled.
“I can assure you, my allegiance is to this country,
Agent Scully,” Clark said solemnly. “To my family, to
this town, to this country.” He reached over and
squeezed his mother’s hand. “I would fight anyone who
tried to harm them.”
Scully smiled at the young man. Mulder had already
closed his notebook and was putting it in his jacket
pocket. “I think we’ve kept these nice people from
their supper too long, Scully. We have enough to file
“But wait, if you put all that in a report, won’t
there be others like you, others who come and want to
find out more about Clark? They’ll want to turn him
into some science experiment!” Martha objected.
“Mrs. Kent, I’m sorry. If it’s any consolation, we
see any number of odd or unusual phenomenon in our
cases and not all of them receive scrutiny or follow
up investigations,” Scully tried to reassure the
woman. It had little positive effect. The woman
looked almost petrified.
“Well, the least we can do is offer you some supper,”
Martha said, squaring her shoulders as she stood.
“It’s just pork chops and mashed potatoes. Clark . .
. Clark is really good with mashing,” she said,
holding back tears.
“No, but thank you for the very generous offer,”
Mulder refused for them both. “We really need to get
back to town.”
“That north-south road tends to drift in snowstorms.
You might want to watch that curve just before the
bridge,” Jonathan said stiffly.
“I’ll do that, sir. Thank you. And thank you, Clark.
You’ve given us a lot to think about.”
Clark nodded. “I hope I explained it to your
satisfaction, Agent Mulder. Please let the people
back in Washington know I’m not a terrorist?” he asked
“That will definitely be in our report,” Scully chimed
in. “Try not to worry, Clark. Or you, Mr. and Mrs.
Scully slipped on the ice as they walked out to the
car, Mulder catching her just before she landed
ungracefully on her rear. When he righted her, she
looked around at the quickly mounting piles of snow.
There was at least half a foot already on the ground.
“We better hurry, Mulder. Remember what Mr. Kent said
about the north-south roads drifting.”
“Believe it or not, Scully, I do know how to drive in
snow. And for the record, north-south roads _always_
drift. Winds tend to blow west to east. I thought
you’d know that,” he teased.
She gave him a look and got into the car, shivering
while she waited for him to start the engine.
Clark was on the phone to his buddy Pete Ross almost
as soon as the dinner dishes were finished.
“It’s bad, Pete. Real bad,” he said with a heavy
“Why in the world did you talk, Clark? Why couldn’t
you just deny it all and show them the door?”
“Mom was about to drop a tray of coffee,” Clark
“And you just couldn’t let that happen,” Pete replied
sarcastically. “They think you’re a terrorist? Who
would put them on to you like that?” Pete asked.
“I don’t know. But I think I got them past that.
Even so, they know more about me than I want anyone to
know. I just couldn’t lie to them after what they’d
seen. Besides, I think Chloe knows about them. And
they are from the government.”
“Clark, the Sheriff is from the government and we end
up lying to her all the time,” Pete pointed out.
“This was different. These people are from the
Federal government,” Clark said emphatically.
“Besides, I couldn’t explain why I wasn’t a terrorist
without explaining what I am.”
“I can’t believe they bought that, Clark. I mean the
whole ‘boy with super powers from another planet
living in rural America’. Who would believe that but
“Present company included, of course,” Clark teased.
“Agent Mulder said they look into a bunch of strange
“Well, old buddy, you qualify there,” Pete joked,
trying to lighten the mood. “Hey, maybe we can figure
out a way to get that report.”
“The one Agent Scully will no doubt file by her
computer tonight at the motel? I don’t think that’s
possible,” Clark said morosely.
“Hey, something’s bound to turn up. Maybe their boss
will think they’re nutcases.”
“Not much to hope for,” Clark conceded. “I gotta go.
I have some history I gotta do.”
“Good luck, Clark.”
Hanging up the phone, the young man lay back on his
bed and stared at the ceiling. There had to be some
way out of this situation. If only he could think of
“I think this is the curve, Mulder,” Scully was saying
as she peered out the frost-riddled windshield. “What
a time to have the wipers go out!”
“Could have been worse, Scully. Could have been the
defroster or the heater,” Mulder quipped.
“We should turn back. I’m sure the Kents have a four-
wheel drive vehicle, living out in the middle of
nowhere like they do.”
“Why would they? Clark probably shovels their way in
to town,” Mulder shot back.
“You aren’t really buying this ‘super powers’ story,
are you, Mulder? I mean, look at him. He looked
fairly normal to me.”
“Just because he didn’t have gray shiny skin and big
black eyes doesn’t mean he’s not from another planet,
Scully. Gosh, talk about racial sterotypes!” He
grinned at her huff of breath. “And yes, I do think
there is something to his story. Even Mr. and Mrs.
Kent substantiated the fact that they found him in a
crashed space craft.”
Scully rolled her eyes again. “Oh, yeah. Well, if
all _three_ of them are giving us the same story, then
of course, I believe it,” she said sarcastically.
“Why would they lie?” Mulder shot back. He was having
trouble seeing the road and it was making him testy.
“The publicity. Mulder, do you know how quick one of
those tabloids you read would pick up on a ‘Super
Boy’? Instant fame and fortune!”
“Then why have they waited this long, Scully? The kid
is 16 years old. Why not shove him in the spotlight
years ago? Besides, they seem to have shunned
publicity. I think they only reason they told us the
story was because we came to their door sporting
Scully opened her mouth to speak when the car suddenly
slipped out of control. Mulder fought the wheel and
for a split second, it appeared they would be all
right. But then the wheels hit another icy patch and
the momentum of the car hurtled them toward the side
of the road. A split second before they crashed,
Scully realized that the side of the road was actually
the guardrail of the bridge over a small river. Her
screams were lost to the sound of metal ripping and
the car plunging fifteen feet into the icy waters
Clark’s head jerked up from his history book. What
was that sound? Like metal, tearing. It was loud and
unnatural. On the edges, he thought he’d heard a
woman scream. It had to be the wind, he decided and
tried to go back to his book. But then he heard
another sound, ice breaking, water rushing.
The bridge. Someone had gone over the side of the
In the blink of an eye he was on the road and running
so fast, the snow melted a path behind him. He got to
the bridge before a human being could take a breath.
When he got there, he saw what had happened. The
guardrail for the bridge was broken at least the width
of a car. Below, the ice on the river was broken into
chunks. But the car was no where in sight.
Looking hard at the icy water, Clark could see the car
below the surface of the water, completely submerged.
The two agents were still inside, trapped, and
unmoving. Clark had to move fast.
Acting without thought, Clark dove into the water. He
tugged at the driver’s side door, but with the
pressure of the rushing water, it wouldn’t budge.
There was no time as the interior of the car was
almost entirely flooded. Clark reached under the
chassis and hefted the car up. With a mighty heave,
he threw the car out of the water and onto the bank.
Clark followed the car out of the water. This time
when he pulled on the driver’s side door, the metal
groaned and separated easily. Water rushed out of the
opening, exposing the two agents, neither of whom
appeared to be breathing.
Grabbing Agent Scully first, Clark performed his own
brand of CPR. The agent coughed and choked, but
started breathing on her own. Turning to the other
agent, he performed the same action. Mulder coughed,
vomited a great deal of water, but his bluish gray
color faded to a more normal pale tan.
“I can’t leave you out here, you’ll freeze to death,”
Clark told the unconscious agents. “But if I take you
into town, it might raise some more questions.”
Considering his options carefully, Clark picked up
both agents and ran at full speed into the city of
Metropolis. The emergency department of the
University Medical Center was bustling. No one
noticed the two people laying on gurneys in the
hallway until one of the nurses heard the woman cough.
One week later
Scully was sitting at her computer, finishing up her
report. Mulder came in from the kitchen, carrying two
“That better not be coffee. The doctor said no
caffeine for another week, Mulder.”
“We were hypothermic with mild concussions, Scully.
They always restrict caffeine for any bump on the head
and it’s usually unnecessary. But if it makes you
stop busting my chops, this is cocoa, extra
marshmallows for the G-Woman.”
“You know what I like,” Scully smiled and accepted the
“So, what are you putting in the report?” he asked,
settling down on the sofa near her desk.
Scully turned to look at him. “Just that we went to
Smallville, interviewed the Sheriff who told us there
was no indication that young Mr. Clark Kent was a
terrorist, and that we were in a car accident that
prevented us from interviewing the suspect, but a
subsequent visit by the suspect in question to our
hospital rooms provided enough evidence to support the
“Still can’t remember how we got to the hospital in
Metropolis?” Mulder asked, sipping his cocoa.
“No. Can you?”
He shook his head. “Since all the notes I might have
taken were in my notebook, which was ruined by the
snow, I have nothing. But I’m not sure I buy the idea
that we slid off the road and were rescued by a
passing grain truck, Scully. I can’t remember
anything after we left the Sheriff.”
“Mulder, that’s not uncommon. You had a concussion,
so did I. That, coupled with the hypothermia could
very possibly result in amnesia, maybe even permanent
amnesia, of the events immediately preceding the
Mulder pulled at his lip. “So, I guess we just close
the book on Clark Kent of Smallville?”
Scully looked back at her report, saved it to the hard
drive and closed down the computer. “I don’t know,
Mulder. I don’t think we’ve heard the last of Clark
Kent. But for now, I think it’s time we both went to
bed.” At his hopeful wiggle of eyebrows, she laughed.
“And got some sleep.”
He feigned disappointment, but helped her to her feet.
“Fine. I’ll just attack you in the morning.”