Title:  Over the River and Through the 
Woods
Author:  Vickie Moseley  
Summary:  Mulder and Scully are invited to 
share Thanksgiving Dinner with the Gunmen.  
Mayhem ensues.  Written for the Virtual 
Season 11 Thanksgiving Day Special.
Rating:  PG
Category:  RST, BT, FA, MA, SA, humor
Archive:  Two weeks exclusive property of 
VS 11, then anywhere.
Author's note:  This piece is dedicated to 
my Sissy, who inspired much of the 
Gunmen's actions, especially the turkey.  
I hope she never sees this.
A special Thanksgiving Day thank you to 
Sally for super fast beta work!
Comments to vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com

Over The River and Through the Woods
by Vickie Moseley

Cafeteria
J. Edgar Hoover Building
FBI Headquarters
November 21, 2003

"You did what?" Scully cried out, then, 
realizing their location, lowered her 
voice to a harsh whisper.  "Mulder, what 
on God's earth provoked you to tell 
Frohike that we'd go to their place for 
Thanksgiving?"

Mulder looked quickly around the 
lunchroom, nodding and smiling as people 
went back to their noon repasts.  Finally, 
he leaned over the table to keep their 
conversation private.  "Scully, he invited 
us.  What was I supposed to do?" he 
demanded, a bit wounded that she was 
taking this so poorly.

"Well, for starters, you could have lied!  
You could have said we had somewhere else 
to go, a case, something," she shot back, 
still keeping to that raspy whisper.  

Under other circumstances that tone in her 
voice usually turned him on, but in the 
current situation, it was only giving him 
a mild headache, right behind his left 
eye.  

"Why in the world would you commit to 
something like that for both of us?" she 
continued, taking time out of her tirade 
to spear a cherry tomato out of her salad 
and shove it in her mouth.

"Look, it won't be that bad.  Besides, 
we'd already decided that you weren't 
going out to San Diego to Bill's with your 
Mom . . ."

"Yes, I remember, Mulder.  But I also 
remember us deciding to have a quiet 
Thanksgiving at my apartment, just the two 
of us," she countered.

"Well, yeah, I remember that, too.  But 
Scully, you should have heard his voice.  
You must have mentioned something about 
not going to Bill's because they dreamed 
this whole thing up so we wouldn't be 
alone on Thanksgiving."

"It never occurred to them we might _want_ 
to be alone on Thanksgiving?  That maybe, 
since they already know about our 
relationship, we might have other _plans_ 
on Thanksgiving, plans that include other 
uses for turkey basters," she shot back.  

"Oh, now you're just being a tease!" he 
cried out, then remembered too late to 
lower his voice.  "What could we do with 
the turkey baster?" he asked, chewing on 
his bottom lip.

"Like you're ever going to find out now, 
mister," she growled in return.  "We're 
probably going to end up eating Frohike's 
chili and Langly's onion dip!"

Mulder sat back, a set look on his face.  
"I already told them we'd be there.  Let's 
just make the best of it."

Scully blew out a deep breath and shook 
her head.  "Fine.  Are we supposed to 
bring anything to this . . . feast?"

"Ourselves.  Frohike made it very clear 
they were handling all the food."

"Then I suggest we get a couple of Hungry 
Man frozen turkey dinners for when we get 
home Thursday night.  I have a feeling 
you're going to be starving," she said 
with a glare.

Thanksgiving Day
Scully's apartment
5:45 am

Mulder had his arms wrapped around Scully 
in a warm, comfortable embrace when the 
phone by her bed starting ringing and 
jolted them both out of a sound sleep.

Mulder fumbled and finally grasped the 
offending object, handing it over to 
Scully before he flopped back into the 
pillows and pulled her closer to him.  Now 
that he was awake, he tried to hear the 
conversation.  It didn't take long for her 
to identify the caller.

"Byers?  Do you know what time it is?" she 
asked peevishly.

Mulder closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Yeah, I know a little . . ." Scully said 
hesitantly.  Mulder gave her a questioning 
look, he could only hear her side of the 
discussion and now his curiosity had 
kicked in.

"No, that's the neck, that much I know. . 
.  Yeah, they cut the neck, clean it and 
then put it in the cavity.  . . .  I don't 
know why, they just do.  People use it, 
for soup, for gravy stock, all sorts of 
things.  Did you find the internal organs?  
No, the heart, the liver, the gizzards, 
those internal organs.  They're in a bag 
and should be somewhere in there.  You 
need to take that out before you cook the 
turkey.  . . . Well, maybe that turkey 
didn't get a set.  . . . I really don't 
think it's a conspiracy, Byers.  Sometimes 
not all the parts get back in. . . . No, 
that is _not_ a 'professional assessment'!  
Now, please can you go back to your turkey 
and let us get some more sleep?  Thank 
you.  Yeah, we'll see you at noon, sharp.  
I'll tell him.  Bye."  She leaned over 
Mulder and put the receiver back on the 
cradle.

"Tell me what?" he asked, nuzzling her 
hair as she got comfortable on his chest.

"He thinks we should be investigating the 
missing gizzards.  Could be some kind of 
cover up in the military-industrial-
poultry complex.  But he told me it could 
wait until Monday," she said with a sleepy 
yawn.

"That was kind of him," Mulder smirked and 
settled back to sleep.

7:13 am

The two were deep in the throes of a 
passionate, deeply erotic kiss when the 
phone rang again.

Mulder growled loudly as he grabbed the 
phone and handed it to Scully.  "Five will 
get you ten, that's Bill," he muttered, 
struggling to keep from pulling the cord 
of the phone out of the wall.

"Langly, what's up?" Scully asked with 
forced cheerfulness.

"I am!  I am!" Mulder growled, biting her 
free ear.  She swatted him away and 
concentrated on the person on the line.  

"No, it's supposed to look that way.  
Yeah, just like the can.  I know, it is 
sort of freaky.  Is it really glowing?  
Well, maybe it's just the lighting.  No, 
Langly, there have been no reports of crop 
circles in cranberry fields.  Actually, I 
think cranberries grow in bogs, not 
fields.  They grow too far north for 
alligators.  Well, I guess there could be 
swamp monsters, but I'm sure all that 
would be cleaned out in processing.  Yeah, 
we'll be there at noon.  Sure.  Yeah.  See 
ya then.  Wait!  Langly, the can wasn't 
bulging in any way, was it?  That could be 
a sign of contamination and in that case, 
you should throw it out immediately!  No, 
you can't use that for botox, there's a 
special refining process.  Yeah, maybe you 
better.  Bye."  

She hung up the phone again.  "We won't be 
having cranberry sauce this year."

"Ah, darn," Mulder said with a smoky look.  
"Wanta make it up to me, right now?"  He 
flipped her over on her back, but not 
before taking the phone off its cradle.

"Mulder, what if Skinner tries to call, or 
Mom?"

"They can leave a voice mail," he purred 
and continued his soft kisses of her 
shoulders.

"Oh yeah," she moaned in agreement.

9:30 am

Mulder was shaving, Scully was in the 
shower when both their cell phones started 
ringing at once.  Mulder neatly carved a 
nick in his right cheek before he was able 
to drop the razor and run into the bedroom 
to dig his phone out of his pants pocket.  

"Mulder," he said gruffly.

"Better tell Scully her phone is out of 
service," Frohike said accusingly.

"Nah, we just took it off the hook," 
Mulder replied with a smug grin.  "What do 
you need this time?"

"Is the lovely Agent Scully nearby?"

"No, Frohike, the lovely Agent Scully is 
currently washing her hair in the shower, 
and I'm not man enough to call her out.  
Are you?"

"Um, no," came the quick response.  "I'll 
call back later."

"What's the problem, Frohike.  I might be 
able to help."

There was silence on the other line for a 
minute.  "Oh, OK.  I guess.  When a recipe 
calls for milk, what if you don't have the 
exact type they call for?"

"Milk?  All milk is the same, Frohike.  
What, you got skim milk or something?"

"Yeah, something like that.  Hey, just 
answer the question!"

Mulder rubbed his chin, dislodging the 
small scab that was trying to form.  "I 
would say you can use whatever milk you 
want.  Now, do you guys think you can 
handle the rest of the morning by 
yourselves?  I'd really like to get 
dressed."

"Oh, yeah, sure.  Thanks.  We'll try not 
to bother you again," Frohike said 
hastily.  "See you at noon."

"See you then," Mulder said and closed the 
phone, laying it on the dresser.

11:05 am

"Mulder, you don't even have your shoes 
on," Scully exclaimed, a basket of laundry 
on her hip.

"I'm thinking, maybe we still have time to 
do something here," Mulder said, chewing 
his bottom lip.

Scully could smell a rat.  "They called 
while I was downstairs getting the clothes 
out of the dryer, didn't they?" she 
accused.

"Scully, I'm getting really worried about 
this.  I'm almost out of sick time and I 
really don't want to get salmonella for 
Thanksgiving."

"What was the problem now?" she asked, 
nudging him over on the couch so she could 
sit down.  Automatically, he started 
helping her fold the clothes.

"Apparently Byers forgot to stuff the 
turkey."

"That's not a problem.  They can bake the 
stuffing in a casserole dish.  It doesn't 
have to go in the turkey."

"Byers insisted."

"But he put the turkey in the oven at 6 
this morning.  That was hours ago.  The 
turkey has to be pretty hot by now," she 
mused.

"They were calling from the Emergency 
room."

"Oh dear."

"It's only second degree burns," he said, 
casually folding a pillowcase.

"Well, that's good."

"The doctor was dressing Byer's arm and 
they should be back at their place before 
noon."

Scully looked over at him, meeting his 
eyes.  "I suppose it would look suspicious 
if we suddenly had to run off on a case."

"Suspicious, yes.  Safer . . . 
definitely."

"But Mulder, they've gone to so much 
trouble.  And as you said, they're doing 
it for us.  We really can't disappoint 
them now."

"Besides, before today is over, they may 
need another doctor," he agreed with a 
heavy sigh.  "We all might."

Office of the Lonegunmen
12:05 pm

Mulder rapped on the door and both agents 
waited patiently while at least 8 
different locks were thrown back.  Langly 
opened the door, waving them inside.  
Scully tried hard not to stare at the 
'Kiss the Cook' apron he was wearing over 
his usual black Ramones tee-shirt.

"Hi.  Frohike's in the kitchen.  Byers is 
resting," he said by way of greeting.

"How's the turkey?" Mulder asked.

"He'll be fine.  Doc said it'd be healed 
in a couple of days," Langly shot over his 
shoulder.

"I meant the bird in the oven," Mulder 
said dryly.

"Maybe I better go check on Byers," Scully 
whispered to Mulder and headed off into 
the open room stuffed with computer tables 
and one lone sofa.  Jon Byers was slumped 
on the sofa, his right arm bandaged and 
propped on pillows and a dejected look on 
his face.  He barely glanced up when she 
sat down beside him.

"Hi.  How does the arm feel, Jon?  Does it 
hurt much?" she asked tenderly.

"No," he said with a glum expression.  
"They gave me a shot.  It doesn't hurt."

"Well, that's good.  Did they give you 
medicine to stop infection?"

"The doctor gave me some salve, told me to 
keep it dry and covered until the blisters 
break on their own.  Then I can leave it 
unwrapped.  But they didn't give me 
anything for infection."  He finally 
looked up at her with suspicion.  "Should 
they have given me something for 
infection?"

Scully smiled.  "Not necessarily.  If it 
wasn't that bad a burn, it should heal 
fine on its own, as long as you follow the 
doctor's directions."

"It's caused enough trouble already," 
Byers said with a sigh.

"Jon, it was an accident.  Don't worry 
about it.  No damage done," she told him 
brightly as she patted his good arm.

"I was doing everything just as the recipe 
said, step by step.  How did I miss the 
part about putting in the stuffing?" he 
asked plaintively.

"Jon, I'm sure it will be fine.  Just rest 
now.  You may think it's just a small 
injury, but your body needs to cope."

"Thanks, Agent Scully."

"Um, Scully?"  Mulder was in the doorway, 
again chewing on that bottom lip.  "Can 
you join us in the kitchen for a moment?"

She patted Byers arm again and got up to 
join her partner.  Mulder was standing a 
few feet from the counter, Frohike and 
Langly were staring at an object on the 
countertop.  It appeared to be the shape 
of a turkey, but it was covered in a flaky 
substance that Scully was hard pressed to 
identify.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

"What's the matter?" Frohike hissed.  
"This damned turkey has the mange!"

"Shhh, Byer's right in the next room, 
he'll hear you!" Mulder warned.

"Mange?" Scully echoed.

"Yeah, you know, the mange.  When we were 
kids, my old man won me a puppy in a poker 
game.  Darned dog had mange, that skin 
affliction that makes the entire skin 
blister off.  We had to bathe it every day 
in this stuff that smelled awful.  I'll 
never forget it.  And that," he concluded, 
pointing to the bird, "is exactly what it 
looked like!"

"I'm sure it's fine," Scully said with a 
good deal of trepidation.

"He tried to do something goofy.  Got it 
off the net," Langly said, picking up a 
sheet of paper and handing it to Scully.  
She scanned the paper, a recipe from the 
magazine Epicurious, and then handed it 
back.

"Scully, what's wrong with the turkey?" 
Mulder asked impatiently.

"Nothing.  Nothing at all.  It's just, uh, 
well, Jon decided to put a batter on it.  
To keep it moist."

"That's batter?  Like what, KFC extra 
crispy?" he mocked.

"I imagine the concept is more in line 
with Beef Wellington, but suffice it to 
say it should not affect the flavor of the 
turkey meat.  And you can always scrape it 
off," she told her partner, directing her 
words to Langly and Frohike.  "Since Jon 
feels bad enough, I suggest we leave this 
discussion in this room, gentlemen.  Eat 
the turkey and keep your comments to 
yourself!"  She turned on her heel and 
left the room.

Half an hour later, the five very hungry 
individuals sat down at the table to eat.  
Scully noticed that the plates were the 
higher quality paper plates and the silver 
was actually metal, a step up from the 
plasticware she was expecting.  They'd 
even thought of napkins, she noted, as a 
she picked up the one sitting next to her 
plate and saw a cartoon Turkey smiling at 
her and begging her indulgence with the 
caption 'Eat more Pork!'

Casserole dishes of various sizes crowded 
the table.  Frohike arrived last, carrying 
the turkey, batter and all, on a tray.  He 
set it down at his place and proceeded to 
carve off several slices.   Mulder smiled 
and squeezed his partner's hand under the 
table.  She'd been right, the inside 
looked better than the outside.

For several minutes there was on the sound 
of metal scraping on glass and porcelain.  
Mulder grabbed the dish with the green 
bean casserole and took a heaping helping.  
With a wink to his partner he took a big 
bite, and choked.  Covering quickly, he 
swallowed the contents of his mouth and 
drank half his water.  "Um, guys, what did 
you put in the green beans?" he inquired, 
when he could find his voice.

"That's the one you helped on Mulder," 
Frohike said proudly.

"Oh, no, I had no part in this," Mulder 
protested.

"Yeah, you did.  Remember, I called you 
about the milk."

"OK, I remember that, but Frohike, where 
in the recipe did it call for sugar?"

Scully looked from Mulder to Frohike and 
down at her plate.  Cautiously, she 
scooped up a bite of the casserole in 
question and tasted it.  Smiling stiffly, 
she nodded, as if she knew a secret no one 
else did.  "Frohike, you didn't have any 
fresh milk, did you?"

"No," Frohike said and pointed a fork at 
Langly.  "Blondie here had to use it all 
up making mashed potatoes."

"So I take it you used canned milk 
instead," she offered.  

Frohike nodded proudly.  "I called you 
guys.  Mulder said milk was milk and I 
should use what I had."

Scully smiled, again it was a bit 
strained.  "That's true in almost every 
case.  But you see, sweetened condensed 
milk is for . . ."

"OW!" Langly yelled.  "What the hell!"  He 
poked a finger into his mouth and pulled 
out what looked like a piece of seashell.  
"About broke my damned tooth!  What is 
this?"

Byers' eyes went wide.  "I thought, well, 
since Mulder's from the Vineyard, don't 
they serve oyster dressing up there, 
Mulder?"

"Mom always shucked the oysters first," 
Mulder said quietly. 

Finally, it was time for dessert.  Mulder 
had to admit, the turkey had tasted fine, 
despite the unsettling appearance.  That 
had been a good thing, because nothing 
else was edible.  He was terrified of what 
these three would do to a harmless pumpkin 
and almost expected a can of shaving cream 
as an accompaniment.

Langly brought the pie to the table and, 
much to Mulder's relief, a tub of Cool 
Whip brand topping.  Mulder and Scully 
exchanged glances.  The pie looked good, 
but then, so had the green bean casserole.  
Langly took no notice.  He was slicing up 
the pie and serving it with a big dollop 
of topping.

When the pie landed in front of Mulder, he 
stared at it for several minutes.  He 
wasn't just being polite, waiting until 
everyone else was served.  There was no 
way he was going to be the one to test the 
pie.  Frohike, oblivious to his guests' 
concerns, dug into his pie with relish.  
He opened his mouth, consumed the forkful 
of custard, crust and whipped topping, and 
closed his eyes in blissful appreciation.

Seeing that Frohike hadn't keeled over, 
Scully tried a bite.  She, too, nodded 
happily.  "Langly, this is fantastic!  
I've never tasted better pie!"

Mulder wasn't entirely convinced and 
searched his partner's face for any hint 
of deception.  Finally, he tried the pie 
and was happily rewarded.  "Langly, you 
get the prize.  This is great pumpkin 
pie!"

"Yeah.  Ya gotta love Baker's Square," he 
said, beaming.  At Frohike's glare he 
bristled.  "Hey, you said 'make a pie', 
but why make a pie when you can buy a pie 
like this?"

Mulder finished off his piece of pie in 
record time and looked longingly at the 3 
remaining pieces in the pie plate.  

"Go ahead, there's another one in the 
kitchen," Langly cajoled.

"Great!" Scully piped up, scooping herself 
up another slice.

Mulder and Scully insisted on doing the 
dishes, since the other three had cooked.  
After dinner, everyone sat down to watch 
the second half of the Green Bay/Detroit 
football game.

When the game was over, Mulder nudged a 
sleeping Scully and nodded toward the 
three conspiracy theorists.  Frohike, 
Langly and Byers were all sound asleep.  
"Isn't that sweet.  They're all tuckered 
out," he whispered.  "Quick, now we can 
make our escape!"

She giggled and Frohike awoke with a 
snort.  "Oh, damn, sorry.  Must have dozed 
off there."

"That's fine, Frohike.  We were just 
getting ready to head out," Mulder said 
with a smile.

"Hey, wake up!  They're leaving!" Frohike 
shouted at the other two, who drowsily 
lifted their heads to squint in his 
direction.  

"Oh, gosh, so soon?" Byers asked.

"Yeah, tomorrow is a heavy shopping day," 
Scully reminded him.  "Mulder will need 
his beauty sleep to help me carry all 
those packages," she added with a sly 
grin.  "Thanks so much for dinner, guys.  
It was, um, quite an experience!"

"Hey, don't mention it," Frohike said with 
a blush.

"We won't," Mulder said confidently.

Scully's residence
5:45 pm

The message light on the answering machine 
was blinking when they walked into the 
apartment.  

"Oh, darn, I bet I missed Bill and Tara's 
call," Scully whined as she hung up her 
coat.

"This day isn't turning out half bad," 
Mulder muttered quietly.

Scully pretended not to hear him and hit 
the button for playback.  She was 
surprised when it wasn't Bill or Tara, but 
Langly's voice that greeted them.

"Hey, I just thought I'd warn you guys.  
Fro's been in the toilet since you left 
and Byers is complaining of stomach 
cramps.  We can't pin down the source, 
but, well, you never know.  Just thought 
I'd clue you in.  Have a great night!"

Mulder turned to a stricken Scully and 
forced a grin.  "At least we have three 
days to recover!"

the end.

Recipe for Green Bean Casserole 

2 cans or (or one package frozen) green 
beans
1 can condensed cream of mushroom soup
1 can (fill the soup can) milk (fresh 
milk, whole, 2 percent or skim)
1 can (approx. 12 ounces) French's Fried 
Onions.

Combine green beans, soup, milk and half 
can of onions in a casserole dish, bake a 
350 degrees (F) for 30 minutes, top with 
remaining dried onions and bake for an 
additional 5 minutes.