After Remy got back from getting his car cleaned on Thursday, he and Marie went room by room to decide the fate of the house contents. They started in the front room because they knew that it would take the least amount of time. Neither of them had space for more furniture, or needed any more lamps, and none of it was an heirloom, so it could all be donated. What little remained had a clear owner, aside from the blanket that Granny-Mae had given them both, but which Marie had told him to take.

"Are you sure?" he asked. It was his favorite blanket, so he wasn't going to argue, but she was Marie's grandmother after all.

Marie nodded. "She'll be thrilled if I ask her to knit me a new one."

They moved on to the small bedroom, which was emotional, but the majority of the items in there had never been used, so in a way, that made it easier. They boxed up the few sentimental items and keepsakes that they did have, and then searched online for a charity that might be interested in the rest. They were sad of course, but it also felt like letting go of the last weight that had been holding them down. Marie called it cathartic and he agreed.

They hadn't touched the ashes, and Marie hadn't brought it up, but Remy had an idea of what should happen with them. He'd discuss it with her later.

The kitchen had been saved for last. The good dishes were carefully wrapped in paper and bubble-wrap, and then put into boxes. Marie didn't want to get rid of them, but wasn't sure she wanted to ship them to New York either, so Remy agreed to take them back to Louisiana and store them for the time being. Maybe after Marie got married, she would decide that she wanted them.

The everyday dishes, which he was currently packing up, were the subject of much debate, however. They were arguing over who should keep them.

"It should definitely be you," Marie said.

"Oh no, I insist," Remy replied. "It should be you."

"What in the world am I going to do with them?"

"Use 'em for target practice."

"That's really more your thing than mine."

Remy stared at the plate in his hand. Not for the first time, he wondered what the manufacturers had been thinking. He assumed that someone in the production process would have had to sign off on a design that contained hens, chicks, roosters, and for some reason, one very angry-looking cow right in the center.

"You know, I think we really missed an opportunity to decorate the entire kitchen in a farm theme."

"I hear that's what's hot on the market right now," she teased.

He nodded. "Barnyard chic."

Remy knew nothing about the actual state of the housing market in Mississippi, but he didn't figure he'd have any trouble selling the house. It was in good shape, and would be move-in ready. He'd have to find a real-estate agent to deal with the paperwork though.

"Toss me the chu-chut, would you?" he asked.

Marie glanced at the counter, which, in all fairness, was covered in several items. "You're going to have to narrow it down for me, sugar."

He motioned with his hand while the word alluded him. "The tape thing."

Just as she handed it over, her phone went off. She glanced at the display, and Remy watched her, without being obvious. She'd gotten a text earlier, which she had ignored. It was petty of him, but he hoped it had been the fiancé. The more he thought about it, the lower his opinion of the guy got. Who let their soon-to-be wife deal with all this emotional shit alone? Didn't he know that as strong as she was, when Marie insisted that she was 'fine', she was actually usually the opposite?

"Hi, Papaw. Oh, I'm fine."

Remy threw his arms up, which earned him a strange look from Marie.

"He's good. He's here too. We're just packing some stuff up. Hey, would it be okay if I stored a few boxes at your house while I figure out what to do with them?" She opened the drawer next to the stove as she talked. "I don't know if it will be this Christmas, but, yes sir, I promise to come visit. Thank you. Okay, put her on the phone. Hi, Granny-Mae."

Remy tuned her out and placed the last dish in the box before taping it shut. After he assembled another box, he opened the next cupboard.

"Remy too?" he heard Marie ask.

He looked over at her, but she was facing the opposite direction.

"Yes, ma'am, I'll ask him. Right. I will. Bye."

Marie turned around after setting her phone down, and appeared to be having some kind of internal debate. Remy waited.

"We're invited to supper at Aunt Sadie's tonight," she said a few moments later.

"And how do 'we' feel about this?"

"Not great, but Granny-Mae asked, and I already lied to her once this week, so I'm feeling pretty guilty about that and don't think I can turn her down."

Remy was intrigued, and needed more details. "What kind of lie?"

"I told her I've been going to church every Sunday."

He sucked in a breath. "Ooh, that's a pretty bad one."

"I know. Anyway, it's supposed to be supper and then we'll discuss tomorrow morning, who's driving, when to arrive, and all that. You don't have to come. I've already roped you into enough things, funeral included. I don't want you to feel like—"

"I don't," he said. "And if I didn't want to be here and be part of all this, I'd tell you."

"It'll probably be awkward and uncomfortable."

He didn't know if she was trying to talk him out of it, or preparing him for the worst. "If I'm there, it'll be less of a 'probably' and more of a 'definitely'."

Marie put a hand on her hip. "You gonna make trouble for me, Cajun?"

"I never make trouble, ma chère," he told her in mock offense. "But I will admit that it has an uncanny way of finding me."

She laughed, and went back to pulling utensils out of the drawer.

"Your grandparents said it was okay to drop off your stuff at their place?" he asked.

"You don't mind, do you?"

"No." It wasn't technically on his way home, but it didn't require much of a detour. And it meant not having to store it in his already cramped storage unit.

"Will everything fit in your car?" she asked.

"If it doesn't, I'll come back with my truck."

She pointed to the cupboard that he had just opened. "And those? Please don't say that you're going to pack them up."

Remy shook his head. "I was going to throw them out," he said, eyeing the cupboard full of empty margarine and Cool Whip containers. They had been given a lot of leftovers in the few months that they had lived there. Although, he couldn't say for certain that some of them hadn't come with the house.

"Maybe we should keep a few in case we have food to pack up before we leave."

"That's how it starts," he said, and reached down to grab a garbage bag from the box on the floor next to him. "You keep a couple, they breed, and before you know it you've got a full cupboard."

"That explains how we got so many. Is there anything here that you want me to keep out?" she asked about the cooking utensils.

They were planning to eat off of paper plates, and had left out a minimal number of things like silverware and mugs to use, but he doubted that they would be doing much more cooking, especially since he suspected their time in the house was almost up.

"When are you leaving?"

His question seemed to catch her off guard. "Oh, um, Saturday morning. My flight leaves at twelve-thirty, but I have to give myself enough time to get to the airport in Jackson and return the car before I check in."

"You might as well pack it all," he said. "I'll leave whenever you do." He didn't want to stay in the house if she wasn't going to be there.

xxx

Awkward and uncomfortable turned out to be an accurate description of the evening.

It started as soon as they arrived at Sadie's, and it was almost definitely at least seventy-five percent due to Remy's presence.

"Why is he here?" Ruth asked in lieu of a greeting.

"Because I want him to be," Marie replied.

"This is a family dinner."

"Remy is family."

When Marie said things like that, it was easy for him to pretend like they had never separated. Saturday was going to come entirely too soon.

"Ruth, why don't you let it be?" Granny-Mae said. "Remy hasn't done anything wrong."

"Hmph."

But Remy suspected that wasn't going to be the end of it. Ruth hadn't finished making her point, and Remy could just tell that she was fixing to say something else. The only thing holding her back was the necessity for everything to appear normal. Her desire to out them as mutants was at war with her need to keep the status quo.

Beside him, the tension was rolling off Marie in waves, but she was holding back, likely out of respect for her grandparents. Her manners had always been better than his. When Ruth glared at him, he glared right back.

There was a time when Marie's parents had almost liked him. Sure, when they first started dating, he was never certain what bothered them more, that he'd left school at sixteen, that he had been raised Catholic, or that he was Cajun. Each topic was hinted at with an equal amount of disdain—mostly by Ruth, as Sam never said much.

But then, in contrast to his own father, their attitude had turned friendly toward him after they found out that Marie was pregnant. Remy suspected that it was because they were going to try to persuade him to propose, and had wanted to ingratiate themselves with him first.

Not that it mattered. He had known that he was going to marry Marie pretty much since the day he'd met her. The pregnancy just meant that they could get permission to do it a little sooner than they would have been able to otherwise.

Remy seemed to genuinely move up in the D'Ancanto's esteem, however, after he'd bought the house and demonstrated that he could provide for their daughter. All had been forgiven in those few months after the wedding.

Of course, now he was back to being persona non grata. And he wouldn't have cared, except that it made things difficult for Marie.

They sat around the table after supper, and discussed who would speak at the service. So-and-so who had known Sam since they were little, etc.. Remy had his arm across the back of Marie's chair, and was only half listening. Mostly he was thinking about how the bar was doing, and wondering if the ghost had made another appearance.

Tante Mattie would have said it was the lutin, a mischievous spirit, playing pranks on them. Thierry on the other hand, who had grown up in France, and not surrounded with Louisiana folklore, was convinced that the spirit was a chef who had worked at the bar long before Remy had bought it. His "evidence" was based on some very tenuous research, but then he had gotten Stella involved, and now the ghost had a name and an elaborate, tragic, backstory.

"What if Don speaks after Cousin Jimmy?" Sadie's husband, Paul, suggested.

"Jimmy will talk forever if we let him," Papaw said. "You have to make sure that whoever gets up after him isn't afraid to interrupt when his time is up. He spoke for a half hour at Fred's service."

Much like Jimmy's speech, the discussion went on.

Marie turned to him and silently questioned him with a look. Are you sorry you agreed to come?

He responded with a smile and a half shrug that said, Sort of. But it wasn't like he would have made her come to the supper alone.

His mind once again wandered, and he found himself thinking about what he would steal from the house before he realized what he was doing. It was a game he had been taught when he was young, and later it had turned into something akin to a reflex.

Bonus points were awarded for being creative, but he lost a point for every minute it would take. He started with the personal items and mentally cleaned out the room. Watches, wallets, purses, and visible jewelry. Then, he cased the dining room, feigning boredom—not hard—as he casually looked around. Silver, a couple of antiques, nothing really his taste, but that wasn't the objective. He needed to clear the room of the highest-ticket items as fast as possible.

It didn't last long, and then he was back to being bored.

"I'd like to say a few words," Sadie added.

"What about you, Marie?" Granny-Mae asked.

She would decline, but Remy was sure that she appreciated being included. Too bad that she didn't even have a chance to answer.

"I don't really think that's appropriate," Ruth said.

They all turned to Ruth, and Remy sat up a little straighter. He had a bad feeling that he knew where the conversation was going.

"And why not? She's Samuel's only daughter. If she wants to say something, she should," Papaw said.

"Sam turned his back on her, just like I did. It was only at the end that he forgot, and..."

"I don't understand," Granny-Mae said.

Remy scrubbed his palm over his face. Definitely not headed anywhere good. So much for the status quo.

Ruth turned to Marie. "Are you going to tell them, or should I? Don't expect me to keep covering for you."

Everyone looked at Marie.

"What's she talking about?" Granny-Mae asked her.

"It's nothing," Marie replied. "Maybe we should get going. Remy?"

He was already halfway out of his chair. "Yep."

"Now, hang on—" Papaw said.

Granny-Mae was frowning. "I don't understand. You've been so down on her since she came home, and—"

"She's a mutant."

A hush fell over the whole room, and everyone froze in place.

Remy's fingers twitched, sensing danger, and it was all he could do to keep from pulling out a deck of cards and letting them fly.

It was Granny-Mae that broke the silence. "Honey?"

Marie's mouth opened, ready to respond, but Ruth interrupted her.

"Why do you think the baby died?"

There was more than one audible gasp in the room, but the only one Remy cared about was Marie's. Time for action.

He turned his eyes on Ruth. "You forgot to mention that I'm a mutant too." The cards were out of his pocket before he was cognizant of the action. He gave them a charge and they glowed in his hand. Several more gasps, and Sadie reached for her young daughter. He felt bad about this, because the rest of the family hadn't done anything, but it couldn't be helped.

He took Marie by one arm, because she seemed to be unable to move, and then casually flicked a few cards off the top of the deck with his other hand. They didn't have enough charge to do any real damage. Everyone watched them fly through the air, while he maneuvered Marie towards the door. The cards went off behind them in a series of small pops.

He led Marie to the car, helped her in, and then drove. Externally, he projected calm, but internally, he was freaking the fuck out. He sped across town.

All the fucking progress they'd made that week, right down the drain...

As soon as they were home and in the kitchen, he stood in front of Marie and made sure she was looking at him. He repeated the things he'd said to her before because he didn't know what else to say. "Your mama's wrong, you know that. It had nothing to do with your mutation. It's not your fault. It just happened."

She dropped her gaze, and finally spoke, quietly. "I know. She didn't mean it like that anyway. She thinks God was punishing us. Getting pregnant out of wedlock, she could forgive, but being a mutant was too much. I'm on a straight path to hell."

Remy held her face in his hands, her hair forming a barrier between their skin. If her emotions were high, he was pretty sure that her powers would be active. He wanted to tell her that he would always do whatever he could to protect her. Seeing her in pain turned him into a mess. "Marie, look at me."

Slowly, her eyes found his.

"If anyone is going to hell, it's going to be me. Trust me on this. You're a much better person than I am. The Devil'll take one glance at you and kick you out."

The force with which she hugged him caught Remy off-guard. He had to take a step back so that he didn't fall over.

"I don't know what I would have done if you weren't there," she said.

The years slipped away as he held her, and he placed a kiss on the top of her head. "I'm sorry I caused trouble with your family after saying I wouldn't."

"Don't be." She squeezed him tight and then pulled away. Her eyes were filled with tears, but she looked up at him with pure conviction. "What you did... You remember it the next time you're having some kind of crisis of conscience. Because you are a good person. Got it?"

Remy wasn't sure he believed her—he certainly wasn't one of the good guys like her teammates—but the way she was looking at him made him feel like a goddamn hero. What else could he do but nod?

She seemed satisfied by his response, and retreated down the hall. The bedroom door closed behind her. Maybe for that night, he could be her hero at least.

Too bad he felt like driving back over to Sadie's and giving Ruth a piece of his mind. If she wanted to fear mutants, he could give her one to fear.

He paced in the kitchen, shuffling the cards from his pocket, charging and uncharging them to get rid of what felt like excess energy. Marie's phone in her purse, which she'd left on the table, went off twice in the span of a minute.

Then, his phone buzzed.

There was only one person that would have called them both. Remy tossed the cards onto the counter and pulled the phone out of his pocket. His thumb hovered over the screen in hesitation, but in the end he decided to answer it. Better to get it over with than to prolong the misery, he supposed.

"We don't care," Papaw said without preamble. "Mae and I. It doesn't change who either of you are. So your eyes glow and you can make some cards explode, big deal. You've always been there to help us, and you're there for Marie. That's what matters."

"Thank you." They weren't sentiments that Remy often heard.

"I'd tell her the same thing, if she'd pick up her darned phone."

"I'll have her call you," he said.

They talked for a few more minutes, as both grandparents understandably had questions. And then, after promising to sit down with them soon and tell them the whole story, he told them goodnight.

It was at that point that Remy figured it was time to knock on the bedroom door and see if Marie wanted company or needed anything. However, when he turned toward the hallway, she was already walking into the kitchen. She had changed into leggings and a tank top. Her tears were dry, and she looked more like herself again, and not so lost.

"Your grandfather—" he started.

"Later." She held up two decks of cards. "I don't know about you, but right now, I feel like blowing something up."

It was music to his ears, and the look of determination on her face did all kinds of things to melt his insides. In that moment, he wanted to steal a kiss from her more than anything. But he was playing the part of the hero, and the hero didn't just pull their wife into a kiss if she was engaged to another man. That would only make things complicated and confusing.

He held out his hand, palm up, so that she could take his mutation. If he was the hero that night, then she could be the thief.

She ignored his hand, instead going up on her toes so that she could give him a kiss on the jaw. Her lips lingered, and a seductive, slow pull of energy tugged at him.

"I like your way much better," he murmured in her ear. He had to be careful not to think about how much he was enjoying it.

Seriously, he had to think about anything else.

She pulled back immediately. "Did I take too much?" she asked, searching his face for any sign of distress. "Any light-headedness?"

"Now that you mention it, I am feelin' jus' a l'il dizzy."

Her arm went around his waist to help steady him. "Maybe we should go sit down."

He made his knees go weak. It wasn't very hero-like, but he could only be expected to behave for so long. "Dunno if I can make it. You might hafta carry me to bed. Nurse dis po' Cajun back t' health."

She promptly let go of him, and he fell to the floor on his ass.

"Ow." He probably should have anticipated her reaction and at least braced himself.

She glowered down at him, like she was working up to something big. "Remy Etienne LeBeau—"

Ooh, using his full name was serious business. "Oui?" he asked innocently.

Her face shifted, and she looked at him with a mix of confusion and disgust. "Why were you picturing the Blob, naked?"

Remy hopped up from the floor. In his panic to think of anything other than how much he had enjoyed Marie kissing him, he'd conjured up his go-to psychic blocking memory. Unfortunately, it tended to give the wrong impression. Now he'd have to own it.

"That's a funny story..." As he trailed off, he plucked one of the decks of cards from her left hand. "Mais you gotta let a man have some secrets, huh, cher?"

A/N: Remy's psychic-blocking mental image of a naked Blob is from Gambit volume 4, issue 10.