She always had a smile for me as she counted the register, did the shift change. She'd been right. Martina didn't come back. "And fifty bucks went missing on her shift. She needed to go, because with that much, even if it isn't dishonesty, it's incompetence. She never bothered to come in to be fired. I lost my day off, but I guess it's worth it, not to have to come in behind her."

A couple of weeks after I started coming in, I said, "I never see your car. Where do you park it?"

She tapped her forehead. "Up here. No wheels. I have to do with public transport, and the buses don't run this late in this part of town. I only live about five blocks away, though. It isn't bad, as long as it isn't raining. Or snowing. Or over ninety."

"Are you crazy, walking alone at this time of night? And I'll bet it's still dark out when you get off."

"Not lately, it isn't," she said wearily. "They keep extending my shift because the new manager can't finish the paperwork on time without someone working the register."

"Why don't they have someone else come in?"

"Because I'm cheaper."

"That isn't fair. I'm pretty sure it's against federal regulations to..."

"Dana," her voice was gentle. "It's sweet of you to get outraged on my behalf, but I'm a grunt. The federales aren't interested in me."

"This federale is." She looked a question at me. I hadn't been planning on this, but... I took out my ID case and showed her my card.

She looked surprised, but not disgusted. "You're a Special Agent?" She looked me over quickly. "But you're so tiny. I thought they had to be Amazons. And I thought you were...I don't know. I had the impression you were a professional. Doctor or lawyer, or something."

"I am. I have degrees in both, but I don't practice." Now her eyes narrowed. Please believe me, I thought. For some reason, it was important that she not think I was scamming her.

At last she said slowly, "Well, if it was anyone else who said it, I'd think they were in the grips of some sort of complex. You, I believe."

I waited for the questions. The questions about cases, busts, plots and conspiracies. They didn't come. We talked about a lot of things, but she never brought up my work. If I mentioned it, she listened, but she didn't press for details. It was as if she were willing to absorb anything I gave her, but not willing to pressure me for more.

I liked that. I found myself telling her more and more about my life. It got to where I was spending an hour or two at her job each night. She'd go about her job, stocking and cleaning, and I'd follow. We'd chat as she worked. Or sometimes I'd just sit at a table in the little section provided for the deli, and watch her. And listen, because she sang. She always sang. It was a near constant, unselfconscious flow. Sometimes it was complete songs, sometimes it was just a chorus, or a snippet. Sometimes it was just a tune, filled in with generic sounds. "Dum da dum dum da." But almost always, music.

One evening a bit later I came in and found her leaning on the counter, studying a page of the classifieds. I felt apprehensive. Was she looking for another job? Here I was just a regular. I was afraid that if she moved on to another job, and I showed up there, I'd be a stalker.

She had a felt tipped pen in hand, and as I came up, she circled an ad. "What are you doing?"

She glanced up. "Oh, hi Dana. I'm house hunting. My landlord decided to go no pets. I either have to cough up a three hundred dollar pet deposit, or get rid of my cat by next week. I'm not gonna do either. But there isn't much available." She sighed. "Me and Snicky may end up sleeping in the bus station a couple of nights."

"There's no need for that. Would you be willing to share space?"

"You mean like as a border?"

"More like a roommate."

"Maybe. Do you vouch for whoever has the space?"

"I do. It's me."

"You? You're looking to take in a roommate?"

"I have plenty of space. And," I lied "I could use some help with the rent and utilities. Plus I'm lonely these days. It would be good to have another sentient being in the house."

She smiled. "I know what you mean. I love Snicky, but he's a lousy conversationalist."

"If you're interested, you could come by the house to check out the room. Tomorrow evening?"

She ripped a piece of paper off a pad. "What's the address? And what time? I have to be to work at nine."

I gave her the address. "Come over about seven. You can see the place, and I'll make dinner. You'll have a little time to make up your mind."

She studied the address. "Yes, I can get here on the bus without too much trouble. The problem will be getting to work after."

"I'll drive you."

"Oh. Well, sure, then."

"Good. Well, I'll go home now. I want to shovel the place out, make a good impression."

She tilted her head, smiling. "You've already made a good impression. I wouldn't be coming over, otherwise." When I left, she was singing softly, a bright, calypso sounding tune. "Then what? Whatcha gonna do when the new wears off and the old shines thorough and it ain't really love, and it ain't really lust, and you ain't anybody anybody's gonna trust...." I saw her spin, then do a discreet little boogie. She was happy. I'd made her happy. "Then what, when it all goes bust and you can't turn back for the bridges you burned, and Fate can't wait to kick you in the butt, then what? Oooh, then what?"

I cleaned house when I got home, and some more when I go up the next morning. At lunch I went shopping and bought several sets of sheets, fine linen, and a pretty bed set of spread, pillow shams, dust ruffle. Dark green. Dark green would set off her pale skin and russet hair. Mulder peeked in the bags that afternoon at the office.

"Whoa, going all domestic, Scully? A little out of your line, aren't they? Don't you usually go for the flowery, peachy designs?"

I took them away, screwing the bags shut. "I'm getting a new roommate. I need fresh linens."

"Really? Anyone I know?"

"No. She's outside my usual circle." Mulder knows about some of my outside relations. Especially since a former lover, irrationally jealous, confronted him about what she perceived to be our 'relationship'. I love Mulder, but it will never be that sort of love. I couldn't open myself up to someone so likely to get themselves killed. Or get me killed, for that matter.

"Good, Scully. I hope it works out for you."

That evening the house is spotless, the room as inviting as I can make it. A lasagna bubbles richly around the edges in a warm oven, a good wine cools in the refrigerator. How long has it been since I have gone through these same preparations for anyone, male or female? I start to light candles, then put them away. Too much, too like a seduction. She's only coming to decide if she wants to move in. And it things are TOO welcoming, that might put her off, too.

Because I'm not sure of her. There have been no overt remarks, few subtle cues. And asking her is risky. She seems gentle, tolerant. But she might be skittish, and I don't want to frighten her off.

A few minutes before seven there is a knock on the door. I open it, and she's on the front step. The horrid jack o lantern colored jacket is over her arm, and it's the first time I've seen her in what she calls her 'civies'. It is a dark green sweatshirt. Over the left breast, where the company logos or monograms usually go are a tiny pair of golden cats' eyes. I was right, dark green suits her. It makes her pale skin almost luminous, and puts green tints in the blue of her eyes.

She's smiling at me, a little puzzled. "Am I early?"

I realize I've been keeping her on the stoop, staring at her. "No, come in. Sorry."

She steps in. "I know, I'm hard to recognized without the costume, right?" She pitches it on the couch. "God, I hate that thing. All the little children love me, because they think that with an outfit like that, I must be a clown." She looks around the room, and I tense, waiting for her reaction. "Wow. Dana, this is beautiful. Are you sure you want to share this place? It's so pretty and peaceful."

"I'm sure. Come on, I'll show you the bedroom." Once again she makes noises of approval.

She sits on the edge of the bed, gives a tiny experimental bounce. Her hand smooths the silky coverlet. "Is this new? You didn't have to do that."

"I was planning to anyway," I lie. "Go on and lay down. Test it to see if it's comfortable."

She kicks off her shoes, swings her legs up on the bed, and stretches out, closing her eyes, She lies there for a moment, smiling with here eyes still closed, and turns her head to rub her cheek on the pillow. Then she stretches luxuriantly, shifting to turn on her hip, one leg scissoring back and forth lazily. I watch, my mouth going dry, fingers starting to twitch. At last she gets up, smile still in place. "That is so comfortable."

She starts groping for her shoes, and I say, "You don't have to do that. Go on and get a feel for the place."

"You're sure?"

"I don't mind."

"Thanks. That's always the first thing I do when I get home. The shoes go off." I like the idea of her padding around my house barefooted, comfortable... at home.

At dinner, I urge a second helping of lasagna on her when I see her eyeing the pan. She refuses the wine, with apologies. "I know it isn't much, but I have to work. They're after me enough without me showing up with alcohol on my breath."

Finally I'm drawing patterns with my fork in the tomato sauce left on my plate. She says quietly, "Dana, I like you a lot. I think we'd get on, as long as I curb my messiness. But this place is so perfect... How much would you need a month?"

"How much have you been paying?" She names a figure. It's low. It wouldn't take much of a bite out of my salary, but then it's not my salary it's coming out of.

"I couldn't pay much more than that."

I name a figure significantly less than what she's been paying. Her eyes widen. "And that would include utilities, and food, of course," I add. "And I'd expect you to bring your cat."

I think that is what does it. She smiles joyously. "Oh, yes, I'd like to live here, if you'll have me?"

"Yes, I'll have you." I'll have you. By God, I will have you.