Remy and Nori sit out on their balcony and smoke. "Your brother's family's really nice," Nori says.

"Oui, Mercy seems like a good woman. That Paulette… she's gonna be trouble some day."

"Yeah, she reminded me of you," Nori says teasingly.

"Exactly," Remy says. He exhales thoughtfully. "Y'know, Henri asked me if we'd thought about kids."

"Yeah, Mercy asked me the same thing." Nori takes a long drag and asks, "So, what'd you tell him?"

"Told him we hadn't exactly thought about it. Not really a good time." He casts a sidelong glance at her. "What'd you say?"

"Said I wasn't emotionally stable enough to be a mother," she says, matter-of-factly.

"Cher! You are—"

"No, Remy, I'm not looking for reassurance. It's true. Especially since I have telepathy now. Can you imagine if I got postpartum depression—which, let's face it, I probably would?" She shakes her head vigorously and sighs. "You, ah…" she trails off and lets her empathy talk for her.

"Nah, cher, don't mind none. Don't think I was really cut out to be a father. Just thought… thought… we should talk about it."

Nori's quiet. Her empathy tells Remy she's feeling wistful, but nothing overwhelming. He speaks up, "Y'know, there's a whole lotta kids at the mansion that love you, even though you didn't give birth to 'em."

She nods. "Remy… d'you ever think about Pyro?"

"Sometimes," Remy says. He does—usually when he sees the kid turn up on the news. He'd liked Pyro, but he'd never been close to him the way Nori had.

"That poor kid," she says. "I just can't stop thinking that I betrayed him."

Remy shrugs. "He has to know that you're better off with Xavier. I—you don't want to go back to Magneto, do you?"

"No. But I just wish… just wish it could be different."

"I'm sure Xavier'd let him come back…" Remy says, but they both shake their heads.

"Pyro would never come back to the school. He's too stubborn," Nori says with a sigh.

"Well, that ain't your fault. Ain't your fault Magneto threw you in the path of the FOH, and it ain't your fault the X-Men were the ones who saved us. You gotta play the hand you're dealt, cher, and so does Pyro."

"Technically it is my fault the X-Men saved us," Nori says. "Not that I'm complaining about it. Anyway, there's a difference between… blame and regret, I suppose. I don't blame myself, or you, for leaving the Brotherhood. You're right. It was the best choice for us. But I do regret the impact those choices had on Pyro. That's all. I wish I could just, you know, call him and chat once in awhile. Let him know I still care about him. But he's the one who has chosen to shut us out."

Remy sighs. "'s his loss, cherie."

"Yeah." She's tapping her fingernails against the table in an elaborate rhythm. She says, "Remy, let's go out. Somewhere."

""Course."

"But let's try not to get too fucked up, okay?"

Remy laughs. "Well, all right, cher. If that's your idea of a good time." He takes her out to a little place where he had long ago been a regular. His first sign that it's in new hands is that Nori gets carded, though they don't give her fake ID a second glance. Remy's saddened not to recognize any of the bartenders. But there's a card game going, and Nori nudges him toward it.

"You want to play?"

"No, I want to watch you play."

He grins at her. He gets them each a beer from the bar and they walk over to the table. Remy falls easily into the banter of the game, showing off for Nori. He considers how easily Nori could win if she were to play. She could simply read the minds of all the players. But he wouldn't ask that of her—and anyway, where would the fun in that be?

After Remy wins one too many hands, a kid at the table—Remy thinks of him as a kid, though he's probably older than Remy was when he was dealing poker in Rue Bourbon—resentfully says, "Aw, you're cheating. No fair having your girl at the table if she's not playing. She's probably checking out our hands for us."

"She can't see anything more'n I can," Remy protests. "And she ain't moved since we sat down here."

The dealer says, mildly, "Technically, only players are supposed to sit at the table."

"Then deal me in," Nori says, with an irritated toss of her hair. Remy grins down at her.

"This should be interesting, cher."

"Indeed." She raises her eyebrows at him, and the game does indeed get interesting. The same kid who'd accused Nori of cheating stalks away from the table after three more hands, of which Remy had won two and Nori had won the other.

"Nice work, cherie," Remy says.

She bats her eyelashes. "I learned from the best."

They spend another hour playing cards and leave the table with a not-insignificant pile of winnings between them. Somehow, it wasn't as much fun as Remy had remembered it being.

Nori looks up at him and whispers, "I think it's more fun when we play at home."

"You read my mind, cher."

"No, I didn't," she says indignantly.

"Figure of speech."

"Oh. Right." She finishes her beer and Remy asks if she wants another. "Nah, I'm good."

He nods. "Let's go back to the hotel, then."

"Oh, we don't have to. I'm fine to stay out a while longer."

Remy pouts. "Y'don't wanna be alone with me, cher?"

"Well… when you put it like that," she says, and carefully steps down from her bar stool. She slips her arm around Remy's waist as they walk out of the bar.

In the morning, over breakfast, Remy says, "Let's go home, Nori."

"Yeah? We still have a week of break."

"Maybe we'll drive back slow. But I… I've had my fill of N'awlins," he says, hardly able to believe it.

"Well… that's fine by me. Are you sure?"

"Yeah. This city… ain't what I remember."

She nods. "You've changed too, since you were here last."

"S'pose I have, cher."

She studies his face for a moment and says, "I didn't know you twenty years ago, but I really love the person you are now."

He gives an unself-conscious smile. "Good." He watches her daintily eat shredded pieces of a croissant before he asks, "Cher? Does it bother you? What I used to be?"

She looks surprised. "A thief, you mean?"

He nods.

"No. For starters, you were a child when you started. You grew up with it. It would be like if it bothered you that I play violin. And anyway, I have these Marxist tendencies. I'm like not the biggest fan of private property. It… I mean, I know it's illegal, or whatever, but, it kind of doesn't bother me that much. You weren't hurting anybody, really. Anyway," she says with a wink, "you stole my heart, remember?"

Remy stretches his hands behind his head, content. "Some of my finest work, that little job."

She laughs. "I don't know, Remy. I don't think I have a very high resale value."

"Cher, you're a collector's piece. Only gonna appreciate with time." She covers her mouth with her hand and laughs. Remy grins back, feeling affection radiate off of her in waves. And if he misses the thrill of a good job, and if she misses the adrenaline rush of performing for a sold-out crowd, well, neither of them would trade this moment for their old lives.

They make love one last time before checking out of their hotel. Nori steps out onto the balcony to make sure they haven't left anything there, and suddenly finds herself crying. Remy comes out and wraps his arms around her from behind. "What's wrong, cher?" he asks, though he knows by now that Nori doesn't always have a particularly compelling reason for tears. She cries at pet food commercials, at songs she likes, and when the kids at Xavier's have math tests (she says the stress in the air is suffocating and she has to shield tightly against it). She cries when things remind her of her sister, or of Stryker. He still hates seeing her cry.

She sighs and sends him a memory. It's fresh; only a few days ago when she paced out on the balcony while Remy sorted things out with Belladonna inside. From her memory, he can tell that she felt scared and cold and sad. He strokes her hair. "Cher, you know I wouldn't leave you for her."

She sniffs and whispers, fully aware of how ridiculous it sounds, "She's prettier than me."

He sighs. "You're beautiful. Do you need me to stand here and list all the reasons I love you?"

"Sorry. I know I'm being silly. I just."

He keeps petting her hair. "Extremely silly, cher. Here. Read my mind." She turns and looks up at him through teary lashes. "Do it. Look at y'self the way I see you," he urges.

She bites her lip and closes her eyes. He senses her gentle touch in his mind, and she buries her face in his chest and cries.

"Cher?" he asks, concerned. Had he been thinking something he shouldn't have?

Love you, she sends. She cries a little more and then she sighs and says, "Sorry, Remy," wiping her face with the back of her hand.

"Cry all you need, cher," Remy says.

"I think I'm done. You know, for now. Let me just go wash my face." She rises on tiptoe to kiss Remy's cheek before leaving the balcony. Remy stares out over the railing for a few minutes before going inside. He finds Nori with a clean face and freshly re-applied eye makeup. If he hadn't been there, he never would have guessed that she'd been crying moments earlier. He's still floored by how quicksilver her moods can be.

She smiles up at him. "Well, let's go!"

He laughs. "Sorry t'keep you waiting, cherie." They take their bags downstairs. Remy returns the key and checks out, just like any upstanding gentleman would, and they stroll out to their car. They drive north on route 24, passing through Rogue's hometown, Meridian, Mississippi. They don't stop; there's nothing there for them. They drive six hours and reach Birmingham, Alabama.

"Could we stop here?" Nori asks.

"'Course. You know somebody here?"

"Not exactly. I-I always wanted to see the Birmingham Jail."

"Not the inside of it, I hope."

She laughs. "No. Just-you know, did you ever read Martin Luther King's Letter from a Birmingham Jail?"

"Can't say as I have."

"It's-it's just beautiful. It's, um, it's where he wrote that 'injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.' It's one of my favorite pieces of writing. And, I mean, it's just a place-but-I always wanted to see it."

"Well, sure, cher, but I can't say as it sounds like a very fun vacation spot to me."

"No," she agrees. "Not fun. But... important."

They check into a Days Inn and eat at a sketchy little Chinese buffet. Afterward, Nori pulls open her laptop and reads A Letter from a Birmingham Jail aloud to Remy. It's long, and she struggles a little with some of the words, but her voice is pure and deeply moved by it.

She reads, "We should never forget that everything Adolf Hitler did in Germany was "legal" and everything the Hungarian freedom fighters did in Hungary was "illegal." It was "illegal" to aid and comfort a Jew in Hitler's Germany. Even so, I am sure that, had I lived in Germany at the time, I would have aided and comforted my Jewish brothers. If today I lived in a Communist country where certain principles dear to the Christian faith are suppressed, I would openly advocate disobeying that country's antireligious laws.

I must make two honest confessions to you, my Christian and Jewish brothers. First, I must confess that over the past few years I have been gravely disappointed with the white moderate. I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro's great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not the White Citizen's Counciler or the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to "order" than to justice; who prefers a negative peace which is the absence of tension to a positive peace which is the presence of justice; who constantly says: "I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of direct action"; who paternalistically believes he can set the timetable for another man's freedom; who lives by a mythical concept of time and who constantly advises the Negro to wait for a "more convenient season." Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection."

She pauses, and they're both thinking of Magneto and Xavier.

"We're doing the right thing, aren't we?" she asks.

"How in the hell am I supposed to know?" he replies, tiredly. "We're doing our best."

She nods, and reads on: "Actually, we who engage in nonviolent direct action are not the creators of tension. We merely bring to the surface the hidden tension that is already alive. We bring it out in the open, where it can be seen and dealt with. Like a boil that can never be cured so long as it is covered up but must be opened with all its ugliness to the natural medicines of air and light, injustice must be exposed, with all the tension its exposure creates, to the light of human conscience and the air of national opinion before it can be cured. In your statement you assert that our actions, even though peaceful, must be condemned because they precipitate violence. But is this a logical assertion? Isn't this like condemning a robbed man because his possession of money precipitated the evil act of robbery?"

She finishes the long letter and seems troubled. Remy slips behind her and rubs her shoulders. She sighs and leans into him.

"You sure you want to go see this jail tomorrow?" Remy asks. "Seems like it's upsetting you."

"I want to go because it upsets me," she says, carefully. "I don't want to be complacent."

"Lie down, ma mie," Remy says, and she uses her TK to set her laptop on the desk and complies. Remy rubs his hands further down her back and says hesitantly, "Seems like... maybe you'd be happier if you didn't make yourself read things like that."

"I know," she murmurs. "Oh," she sighs, as Remy kneads her lower back. She lowers the shield over her empathy, letting him share in the fruits of his labors. "It's just... I feel like I have this obligation. That if someone else lived through it, I should know about it. Should honor it."

"Don't put too much weight on your shoulders, petite. They're pretty small, you know," he says, squeezing them. "There's just one of you. Y'can't take on the whole world's pain. You'll go crazy that way."

"I know. It is a fine line to walk. But I can't... oh, right there, but harder... I can't not think about these things. But I know... oh... what you're saying, I have heard it before. I, I wish I could be more like you, Remy."

"Quoi? Why would you want to be more like me?"

"You're so zen, love. You just take things as they come. You live in the moment." Remy considers this.

"But cher... you're a better person than I am," he blurts.

"No!"

"I mean, you... you notice when other people are upset. You help them. You are so kind."

She snorts. "And you aren't? You've already talked me down from one crying spree today and now you're giving me a backrub."

"Well. Of course I notice when it's you," he says, tenderly.

"Perhaps we are meant to function as a pair," Nori says. "You take care of me-"

"And you take care of everyone else," Remy says.

"Not everyone."

Remy caresses her lightly and then comes to lie next to her. "I can live with that arrangement," he says. She turns and kisses his cheek.

"I just... I know... I've been told... I can be hard... to deal with," she says, with difficulty.

He strokes her hair. "It can be, a little... because I hate seein' you sad, and it seems like you're sad a lot. But it's worth it. Je t'aime."

"I love you, too. You make me happy, Remy."

"I know." He hesitates. "You know-I hate the FOH for what they did to you. But I have to say that I love what happened to your power."

She smiles. "Every cloud has its silver lining, huh? I like it too. Bet they never saw that one coming when they kicked my face in, huh?"

Remy tenses and puts his arm around her. "I know I brought it up. But don't let's talk about that."

"Okay," she agrees. But, reminded of what the FOH had done, she takes one of Remy's hands and massages it. He sighs with pleasure. They sit quietly together while Nori plies Remy's long, slender fingers with her small calloused hands. Finally, she kisses the top of his head and says, "Let's see if there's any reality TV on. I don't want to think about anything for the rest of the evening."

"Good idea, cher." They sit up in bed and Nori nestles against Remy's chest as they watch America's Next Top Model.

"This show is horrible," Nori breathes, but Remy can tell she enjoys it.

"Shh, don't think about it."

"Oh my God, Remy, she's making them wear blackface makeup. This is offensive."

"Want to see what else is on?"

"No... I want to see who wins."

He laughs and acquiesces. He'd never say no to watching a bunch of pretty women, though listening to them bicker makes him all the more grateful for the gentle musician by his side.

In the morning Nori goes online to figure out where the Birmingham jail is. "You know, I wonder if you can actually visit it," she says. "I maybe should have thought of that sooner. You would think it would be a museum or something, right? Let's see. They have King's actual cell inside the Civil Rights Institute. Well... can we go there? And ask them?"

"Sure, cherie."

It's an emotionally draining day. They visit the museum, and Nori stares for a long time at the small cell that's been transplanted there. She has a shield over her telepathy but Remy is certain they're both thinking about the time they'd spent in similar cells.

They visit the park, where police unleashed attack dogs on nonviolent protesters. Nori jumps a little when she first sees the commemorative statues of fierce dogs, and Remy takes her hand. They visit the 16th Street Baptist Church where four little girls were killed by bombs, and there Nori cries for the first time that day. Remy holds her and wonders how she can feel so much. Of course, the death of four young girls is sad, but it was fifty years ago, and he'd never met them. But through her empathy, he can feel how personal this is for Nori. They get a sympathetic look from the tour guide, though the two black college-age girls on the tour with them seem a little irritated. Nori can tell and she shakily pulls herself together, though her emotional projections are still all over the place. After the tour is over, Remy and Nori both kneel and pray, returning to old habits instilled by Catholic upbringing and schooling, respectively.

As they stand to leave, one of the girls from the tour approaches and says, softly, "Where're you from?"

"Boston," Nori says. "And you?'

"Atlanta."

Nori smiles and extends a hand. "I'm Midori," she says.

The girl blinks and accepts the proffered hand saying, "Alicia." She hesitates. "You seemed really moved by the tour."

Nori nods. "I…my niece is about the age of those girls, and I…" she shakes her head. "It's so awful. There's so much that's so awful about American history. It's overwhelming."

Alicia nods. "I know. I study history at Spelman, and it's really hard sometimes. Feels like they can never make it up to us, you know?" she asks, glancing unconsciously at Remy, the only white person in the church.

Nori casts a sidelong glance at Remy and nods. "And now everything's just repeating itself with mutants."

"I guess I never thought of it that way," Alicia says. Her friend comes over and she looks a little hostile. "Hey, Kesho, this is Midori. Midori, Kesho."

Nori politely extends her hand. "It's nice to meet you," she says.

Kesho nods, though her glance is still hard. Remy's still hovering a few feet behind Nori, and no one has acknowledged him. But Kesho looks right at him and says, "Who's he?"

Nori smiles and says, "This is Henri."

Remy nods politely and says, "Enchante, ladies."

Alicia smiles, but Kesho rolls her eyes. "So, what, you guys came here to take a few pictures and assuage your white guilt?"

Nori raises her eyebrows. "I'm not white."

Kesho shrugs. "As good as. Nobody crosses the street when they see an Asian girl walking toward them."

"They do when they see a mutant walking toward them," Nori says, chin raised. Remy tenses slightly.

Kesho narrows her eyes. "You're a mutant?"

"Yes."

Remy looks down over his sunglasses and says, "Is that a problem?"

The two girls inhale sharply, but Alicia says, "No. It isn't." Kesho nods.

Nori sighs and smiles up at the two girls. "Well, it was nice to meet you both. Good luck in school."

"You too," Alicia says. Nori takes Remy's hand and they walk out of the church.

On the street, she says, "It's almost comforting to remember that mutants aren't the only ones people hate."

"You know, that's true," Remy says.

"If all the mutants, queers, and people of color united, we could totally overthrow the white men in power."

"Hey now, I'm a white man, if you hadn't noticed."

"A white man with red eyes. We all know whose side you're on," Nori says with a grin.

"Whatever side you're on, that's where I want to be." She snorts and sighs.

"You are the cutest ever."

Remy preens at that, and they kiss. The next morning, they leave early. It's sixteen hours from Birmingham to Salem Center, and they've decided to push through and make it back to the mansion that night. Nori claims to be done with historical tourism for a while, and, well, the mansion feels like home to them.

They stop for lunch in the middle of Virginia. Nori regards a giant burrito quizzically for a moment before cutting the entire thing into tiny pieces. Remy laughs at her over his steak fajitas.

"Cher, I thought the whole point of the burrito was to pick it up and eat it."

"They made that burrito for somebody with a bigger mouth than me. Somebody like you, maybe," she says, scrunching her nose at him. He lifts his eyebrows and smirks at her, and she blushes even though he hadn't actually said anything.

After lunch, she asks, "You want me to drive?"

"If you want to."

"I mean I have a preference for not driving. But if you're tired of it I'll happily take over."

"Nah. I like driving."

"I know. I just thought I should offer."

"Much appreciated."

So Remy drives, and Nori entertains him. She points out billboards, she messes with the radio, and she makes up little songs for Remy. Around 1am, they arrive at the mansion. They step out of the car and stretch limbs tired from their long day in the car. They shiver in the cold garage—they're back to New York in the winter—and quickly take their bags inside and slip upstairs without seeing anyone, but as soon as they stop outside their door, Logan steps out of his room and into the hallway. Nori offers him a hug.

"Welcome home, darlin'," he says. He nods at Remy. "How was the trip?"

"It was fine," Nori says. "His ex-wife tried to kill me."

"Way to focus on the negative, cher."

"You all right?" Logan asks.

"Yeah, yeah, fine."

"You were married?" Logan asks.

"It was a long time ago."

"You don't seem like the marryin' kind."

"Appearances can be deceiving, mon frere," Remy says with a smirk.

Logan studies them both carefully and, on a hunch, grabs Nori's left hand. She shrugs up at him and gives him a huge smile. "Huh. Congratulations," Logan says.

"Thanks!" Nori says, still smiling. Remy has a grin just as big. Logan nods.

"So tell me more about Gambit's ex-wife," Logan says.

Nori groans. "God, she's like seven feet tall and blonde. And an assassin. Or whatever."

Remy shakes his head. "She's nobody, not compared to Nori."

"She killed a guy on the roof of our hotel."

"Huh. Sounds like your type, LeBeau," Logan says. Nori's face goes carefully blank and Logan regrets his words.

Remy shakes his head again. "Maybe once. Not any more."

Logan nods. "Well. Good. You'll have to invite me to the wedding."

"We were hoping you'd cut the cake for us," Nori says sweetly. Logan laughs, and Nori says, "But I don't even know if we're going to have a wedding. But obviously you'll be invited to whatever we end up doing."

"I'll be sure to clear my social calendar," Logan says.

Nori smiles and says, "Good night, Logan."

"Night, darlin'. Night, Remy."

"Bonsoir."

Nori and Remy enter their room and set down their bags. Nori sighs. "It's nice to be home," she says, and Remy can't disagree.

NOTES: You can read the full text of the Letter from a Birmingham Jail here (minus spaces):

http:/www. africa. upenn .edu/Articles_Gen/Letter_Birmingham .htm

And there totally was a blackface episode of America's Next Top Model.

http:/www. huffingtonpost. com/2009/10/29/americas-next-top-model-p_n_338741. html