Marie had a long talk with Granny-Mae and Papaw on Thursday night, after she and Remy came in from blowing up the wall of plastic containers that they had built on the back lawn, and she felt a lot better afterwards. They convinced her to come to the funeral anyway, Mama be damned.
On Friday morning, however, she was having doubts as to whether or not she had made the right choice. Was she crazy for going to the funeral of a man that had disowned her? Had he let Mama convince him that turning her out was the right thing to do? Marie would never know.
Remy knocked on the bedroom door. He had taken his suit into the bathroom so that she could change in private. "Ready?" he asked.
"As much as I'll ever be." She slipped her sweater on over her bare arms like it was armor.
When the door opened, and Remy walked in, Marie's jaw nearly dropped. He was impeccably dressed. The suit had to have been tailor-made because it fit him like a second skin. It was certainly a far cry from the rented tuxedo that she had seen him in at her junior prom. She made a little noise when she exhaled, and then blushed immediately.
A slow grin spread on his face. "I clean up nicely, no?"
Marie nodded because she didn't trust what words might have come out of her mouth just then.
A flash of silver on Remy's cuff caught her attention. She reached for his wrist and raised it up for a better look. It was a tiny ace of spades.
"I couldn't resist a little bit of flair," he said in a playful tone.
It would have been disappointing if he hadn't done something fun and just so...Remy. She let go of his wrist.
"You're going to have to be careful today," she told him. "My control is all over the place. Just assume that my powers are on." There were gloves in her purse, in case it became necessary to wear them, but Marie hoped that it wouldn't come to that.
Remy leaned in closer, brazenly ignoring her warning, until his face was only inches from hers. "You look beautiful. And you can do this."
"Thank you," she said quietly. "I am doing the right thing, aren't I?"
"Family's family," he said. "You loved him, and you've got a whole lotta happy memories. Just 'cause he turned his back on you doesn't mean you don't have anything to mourn."
Remy had a point, although she could probably convince him to stay home and play Monopoly with her if she told him that was what she wanted to do instead. Tempting, but she probably would regret missing the service.
"I guess."
As they turned for the door, Remy's hand on her waist, Marie caught their reflection in the dresser mirror. They looked good together. Suave and sophisticated. She nudged him.
"Hmm?"
She pointed at the mirror. "Big-city power couple."
He smiled. "Let's go get 'em, yeah?"
But on the drive over, Marie's doubts crept back in. "Something's going to go wrong, I just know it."
Instead of dismissing her, Remy said, "All right, let's walk through this then. What do we do if your mama pitches a fit when we get there? Yells at you and wants us to leave?"
"We could leave, but then my grandparents might get upset. And if we did, it would be like admitting that we didn't belong there. We should do whatever we can to keep our distance from her."
"She's not going to want to be anywhere near us anyway," he said. "We'll probably end up seated next to your grandparents during the service. What's your next worry?"
"That she's going to go up to say a few words, and then make some snide remarks about me, insinuating... I don't know, but it won't be good." Marie had woken up in a sweat last night after having a nightmare that the whole town had found out that she and Remy were mutants and had chased them from the church with actual torches and pitchforks.
"I'm pretty sure she got that all out of her system last night. There's no way she's going to publicly out us and tarnish her image. Next."
Next was the perpetual worry that her skin would become the danger she had always been told that it was. And even if, deep down, she knew that Mama would never say anything in public, her skin might out her anyway.
"What if one of the ladies from church hugs me, kisses my cheek, and I knock her out?"
"Gasp and pretend she fainted. 'Bless her heart, she must have skipped breakfast'."
"What if I knock you out?"
Remy tossed her a look that told her exactly what he thought of that possibility and then went back to watching the road. "Not going to happen. I know enough to be careful, and if I start to feel even slightly dizzy, I'll let go."
Of course he would. And maybe she even had control over it, but she had lived with the fear for so long, that it was hard to shake.
"Now, what else?" he asked.
Marie soon ran out of situations that could realistically be expected to happen and the conversation devolved into silliness.
"Juggernaut comes running into the church..."
"Borrow my powers. I take the right, you go left, we start throwing hymnals as a distraction and get your grandparents out. Sadly, we'll have to leave your mother behind."
Marie snickered.
By the time they reached the church she felt confident that she and Remy could take on the world if it came to it.
They had arrived early, as instructed, since they were family. Or, were still family to some of them. Marie slipped her hand into Remy's as they climbed the front steps, and he didn't even flinch. Strange how something so small meant so much. If she started to feel her control fade, she'd let go. But she needed the physical connection.
"Okay?" she asked.
In response, he brought their hands up to his lips and kissed the back of her hand.
Okay.
They quickly found the room where everyone had gathered. Mama didn't say anything when they walked in, and continued to talk to the pastor, while Aunt Sadie and her family eyed them warily. Although, it was mostly Remy that was getting the looks.
"Should I apologize, do you think?" Remy asked in a low voice.
"Probably. I heard you left a scorch mark on their wall."
"Better than a hole."
"Yeah, but I don't think you should mention that in your apology."
Granny-Mae and Papaw came over and gave them both big hugs. "You two will sit up front in the pew next to us."
She looked at Remy and he nodded. Just as they had figured.
There was a lot of standing around and waiting after that. The church sanctuary had started to fill with guests, but the family would enter last. At one point, Remy went over to Aunt Sadie and apologized. Then he did a card trick for Ginny, and everyone was friends again.
Finally, someone came to get them, and they proceeded down the center aisle of the church. Remy entered the pew first. He wanted to be on the outside in case there was trouble. Marie was next, and then her grandparents were next to her. Mama was at the opposite end. Aunt Sadie and her family sat behind them, in the second row.
Flowers surrounded the casket at the front of the church and almost completely covered the steps up to the altar. It was an impressive display, and made Marie realize how well-loved her father had been and how many people would miss him. Three of the floral arrangements had banners: Son, Husband, and Brother. One was conspicuously missing.
Remy must have noticed her frown because he whispered, "What's wrong?"
"I didn't buy flowers," she replied. Was she supposed to have done that? No one had mentioned it. But maybe she hadn't been there for that conversation.
"No one will notice."
Marie was confident, however, that several people would in fact notice the lack of a 'Daddy' banner and wonder. "Maybe it will snow tomorrow too."
"Might be fun. We could go skiing."
She rolled her eyes.
The service started with a short sermon. They rose at the appropriate times, and sang—or pretended to sing—when required. Then people were invited up to talk about Daddy. It was a mix of stories that Marie had heard before, and some that she hadn't. Apparently, he'd been a bit of a trouble-maker as a child. Probably where she had gotten it from.
What struck Marie the hardest was how a life, several decades long, could be distilled down to a list of accomplishments and a collection of anecdotes.
Is that what it would be like when she died? What would people say about her? Would she be defined by her powers? Would someone read a list of all of her good deeds, and all of the people that she had saved? Her friends in New York, aside from Logan, didn't even know about her life in Mississippi. If she had died at Liberty Island, or on any of the other dangerous missions, they wouldn't have even known to tell her grandparents. Or Remy.
No one would mention her son, and who would tell the world how much she had been loved? She had a hard time picturing Bobby pouring his heart out.
Oh god, and if Remy died, who would be there to tell everyone that not only was he a good thief, but that he was a good person? He saved old ladies from the mud, and never failed to make people smile. He had been loved, and maybe there wouldn't be the flowers to show it, but he had been a good husband and briefly a father, and it was important that people knew that.
And then, Remy was tapping her on the arm because it was over, and they were being ushered out of the pew. She held on tightly to his hand, and didn't look anywhere except directly in front of her as they walked back down the aisle. If she lost her focus, she risked losing control of her skin, and she was not going to knock him out.
"Breathe, chérie," Remy said to her, once they exited the sanctuary.
Someone had laid out drinks and cookies and other finger foods on tables. And now people would be invited to mingle, eat, and talk to the family. Marie pulled Remy over to the corner by the wall. She didn't want to be surrounded on all sides by a crowd.
"You okay?" he asked, searching her face in concern.
"I think so. I just got caught up in my thoughts a little too much back there, and it didn't lead any place good."
He nodded like he understood and rubbed her back.
People glanced at them as they walked past, and then made comments or elbowed the person that they were with. It was a repeat of Sunday, except worse because the funeral had brought together a much higher concentration of people that had known them both years ago.
Remy had started to notice, and it occurred to Marie that she had forgotten to tell him the cover story.
"Mama told people that there was a car accident," she explained.
"I guess that makes sense."
"I should have pressed her for details." She had a bad feeling that Remy had been the driver in the story, and was guilty of being drunk and/or reckless. It probably ended with Marie dumping him and then running off—not too far from the truth, but Mama's version likely hinged on Marie not showing up with her still-husband at a funeral.
Remy gave a cheesy grin and a wave to one couple, caught looking for a little too long. Embarrassed, they turned away quickly. "Maybe it's the suit?" he wondered.
"It's not the suit. You could've worn a potato sack, and they'd still be staring at us."
"Of course they would. What kind of man wears a potato sack to a funeral? I'd stare at that too."
She shook her head and smiled.
"Becca, two o'clock," he murmured.
"I see her." They had rehearsed this scenario in the car, and Remy had offered to position himself elsewhere and wait for Marie's signal in case she got stuck in the conversation and needed an out. "Are you sure you don't want to stick around and say hi?"
"I'm sure. Lemonade or tea?" he asked.
"Tea, please. Thank you, sugar."
Becca soon wandered over. "How are you holding up?" She gave Marie a quick hug.
"Fine, thank you."
"And how's your mama?"
"She's... you know."
Becca nodded. "Y'all not gettin' along?" Of course it hadn't escaped her notice that they had sat at opposite ends of the pew.
"It's just been a long week."
"And nothing to do with a certain someone's return?" she tilted her head in the general direction of Remy, who was across the room, casually examining trays of food.
"Not really."
"I don't blame you for taking him back, looking like that. Oof." She fanned herself with the program in her left hand.
Maybe Marie had been too quick in dismissing the powers of Remy's suit. A little part of her delighted in the fact that Becca was jealous. It wasn't right though. "He's just in town for the funeral."
"Well, you know what they say, what happens in Meridian..." she trailed off suggestively.
Marie knew what she was insinuating, but she also knew the reality of the situation. "What happens in Meridian, gets around Meridian, until everyone and their family knows what happened in Meridian."
"Oh, but sweetie, how likely is it that anyone from New York will ever find out?"
"Yeah, but you know..." Marie fished for something that sounded plausible. "God would know," she finally said, figuring it was the quickest way to shut the conversation down.
"I suppose," Becca said. "Anyway, I won't keep you, I just wanted to see if you're still up for grabbing lunch before you head back to New York."
Ah, that. Marie had sort of tentatively agreed to getting lunch, hadn't she? She gave Becca an apologetic look. "I don't think I'm going to have time. I have to leave early tomorrow. But maybe when I come back down to visit my grandparents we can meet somewhere."
Then, because she couldn't get out of it, she exchanged numbers with Becca. Maybe it was a bad idea, because she'd likely always have to hide the mutant part of her, but maybe it would be nice to catch up. They had been really good friends once.
Marie relaxed a little after Becca left, and glanced over at Remy to see if he was on his way back. He was trying to navigate around a table with a small plate in one hand and a cup in the other, but his path was blocked by a group of ladies and he was stuck.
"Hey, Kid," a voice behind her said.
Marie whipped around. "Logan!"
He opened his arms and she gave him a big hug.
"What are you doing here?" She had told him when, but not where the service was. "How are you here?"
"I don't know if you've heard, but there's this invention called 'the internet', and I know your real name and hometown. Google did the rest."
"Right." The obituary was public. Duh.
"I rode down," he said. "Left New York yesterday."
It would have been a long ride, even at the speed at which he drove his augmented motorcycle. "You didn't have to do that," she said.
Logan shrugged. "I thought that you should have at least one friend here in case you needed a shoulder to cry on or something. But it looks like you've got that covered."
She did. It was covered by a man who had fought Logan and come out bragging about it. The very same man who would soon be joining them. Shit. Why hadn't they covered that scenario in the car? The possibility of Logan showing up was infinitely more likely than Juggernaut crashing the service.
"So, uh, if you're here, who's covering our classes today?" Marie asked. Was there even any plausible way that she could keep the two men apart? Logan, she was sure, had already seen Remy, so getting him out the door quickly was unlikely to work.
Remy, on the other hand, was about to be blindsided. And it wasn't that Marie didn't care, it was just that she knew the swamp rat could handle himself in sticky situations. Usually in some entertaining way. At least she'd have a front row seat to the ensuing drama.
"I canceled them. I figured they'd been putting up with me all week, so they probably could use a day off," Logan replied.
"Good point."
Remy returned to Marie's side and handed her the cup of sweet tea. Then, he turned to Logan, like he was about to greet him, and paused. It was a credit to Remy's training that he didn't react any more than that. His face didn't betray a thing. It was actually impressive.
"Hi," Logan said. It didn't sound friendly.
Remy played the part well, however, and pretended not to notice that Logan was glaring daggers at him. He plastered on a polite smile and asked Marie, "Dis one of yo' friends from New York, cher?"
"Oh lord," she said under her breath. If his accent was any thicker, she could've cut it with a knife.
Remy inclined his head toward Logan in acknowledgment. "It's a pleasure t' meet you."
Logan, of course, didn't fall for it. "Oh, we've met before, Gambit."
Marie's eyebrows went up. That was new. If Logan had known Remy's mutant name at the time, he would've mentioned it. Which meant that she had underestimated just how much the incident had bothered Logan if he had kept digging. And that probably wasn't good.
Remy's smile only grew, however, and he dropped the clueless Cajun act. "Wolverine. Is it just you this time?" He pretended to look around. "Three of you couldn't stop me from walking away with the prize, I'm not sure what you think you're gonna be able to do all on your own."
"Maybe I'm wise to your tricks now."
"I doubt it," Remy drawled. "I always keep a few extra up my sleeve."
"Sleeves won't help you when I slice off your arms."
It was at that point that Marie stepped in, before one of them decided they had something to prove. "Okay, that's enough. Remy, this is Logan," she purposely emphasized. "Logan, this is Remy. Please try to stay civil."
Remy turned to her and raised an eyebrow, and she knew why. She had neglected to mention that Logan and Wolverine were the same person.
"Sorry, I didn't think you two would ever meet." She took the plate of snacks from Remy, and asked him sweetly, "Can you please go see if my grandparents need anything?"
On his face, a battle played out. He wanted to stay, but he also couldn't say no to her request either. It was a slightly evil tactic on her part, but necessary for preventing violence. Finally, he composed himself and looked back at Logan. "I heard that you saved Marie's life."
Logan nodded. "A couple times."
Remy stuck out his hand. "Then I'm in your debt."
Logan stared hard at him, like he was trying to determine if it was a trap, but then shook it.
They watched Remy leave. Logan looked like he was queuing up to say something.
"I don't need a lecture," she said, heading him off at the pass. The last thing she wanted was a reminder about the man she had waiting for her back in New York.
"I didn't say anything."
"You didn't have to," she replied.
He switched topics. "You know he's a thief, right?" That was Logan, never one to mince words.
"He grew up in a guild." It wasn't an excuse, but it was a better response than, "A damn good one", which was inexplicably what she had wanted to say instead.
"That kind of environment is bound to mess a person up."
Marie snorted. "Because we're both such well-adjusted individuals."
"I'm just saying, the guilds are full of shady characters."
"I know, but we deal in the gray an awful lot of the time too."
He didn't deny that. She held out the plate of cookies.
Logan took a couple and popped them in his mouth. "So, how—?"
"He's my husband."
This time it was Logan's eyebrows that went up, and then a look of understanding passed over his face. "The one you married at seventeen."
"Yeah."
"Huh."
"So, trust me when I say that despite whatever wrongs he does, the good more than makes up for it. He's not like most of the Guild thieves." Remy had morals, and lines that he would never cross, no matter the consequences.
Logan glanced over his shoulder at Remy, and then back at Marie. "Do you know how long it took me to find out his name?"
"If you had said the guy was Cajun and had a penchant for theatrics, I could've told you sooner."
"I didn't know about the Cajun part. He didn't have an accent when we were fighting."
That made sense. Remy only let people see what he wanted them to see. She imagined that extended to jobs as well.
"How long are you staying?" she asked.
"I'm going to take off right after this."
"So soon?"
"Yeah, I wasn't planning on sticking around. I just wanted to make sure that you were okay."
It meant a lot that he'd driven such a long way for her. "I'll be okay, I promise."
"You sure? I can stay if you need me to."
"I'm sure. I'm leaving tomorrow morning anyway." Saying it out loud reinforced that it was happening. She looked over at Remy, who was handing Granny-Mae a plate of something.
"And 'Remy'?" Logan asked.
"He's going back to New Orleans. This is just—whatever it is."
"Too bad. Him and I have some unfinished business I'd like to settle in the Danger Room. Or in a dark alley." He gave Marie a hug. "You'll probably beat me back."
"I don't know, with your love of that turbo button? It might be pretty close."
"Loser buys drinks?"
"Deal. And thank you again for coming. I'll see you soon."
"See ya, Kid."
Marie watched Logan leave and then went over to where Remy was standing.
"Nice chat?" he asked.
"Except for the part where I think he wants to kill you," she said. "What did you do to him anyway?"
"Tsk tsk. You know better than to ask a man of my profession for details," he said. "But uh, just in case you ever do find out, remember this, I had already seen him heal, so I knew he'd be okay."
Marie sighed.
xxx
The gathering at the cemetery was small. Remy and Marie had followed the procession and then kept a respectful distance while the pastor spoke at the graveside. The sky was gray, and threatening to rain again.
A gust of wind blew through the graveyard, and although it wasn't cold, it made Remy shiver.
"Cemeteries give me the frissons," he said.
"That's because you're too superstitious." She remembered that he had a thing about not eating both ends of the bread, and if various body parts were itchy, that meant something too. Marie was sure he had several superstitions involving cemeteries as well. "I noticed how careful you were about where you stepped."
He nodded. "You grow up with ghosts and voodoo and the Rougarou and we'll see how many graves you're willing to walk on."
Once he got going on the supernatural, he wouldn't stop for a long while. If you listened to Remy, New Orleans was full of ghosts, and he knew most of them by name.
He nudged her with his elbow. "Did I tell you? The bar is haunted."
"Of course it is."
"Thierry figures it's the ghost of a chef because he hears the pots and pans move around, and sometimes it smells like bread when we come in in the morning."
"And you're sure it's not an actual person?" she asked. Or maybe a nearby bakery.
Remy looked offended. "I set up the security. I guarantee you no one but a spirit's getting past that."
How silly of her.
It occurred to Marie that they were standing around joking and talking about ghosts, while Daddy was being buried over yonder, and it didn't even seem wrong. "I feel like I should be more sad."
"It's just a body in a box now," he said. "You already did the emotional stuff. And you were there when he passed. That's what's important. This is just...admin."
"I guess." She wasn't sure she believed in heaven, but if it was real, then she would like to believe that Daddy was in a better place. And that place wasn't in the coffin they were watching being lowered into the ground. "Do you think the ashes—"
"That's different," Remy said. "We never got to hold him, never got to say goodbye. It's all we have."
But it was also kind of the same, and one day, maybe they would both be ready to let them go.
"All this makes me think that I should have some kind of funeral plan in place," Marie said. Nothing like a funeral to force one to confront one's own mortality. It was surprising that the X-men didn't have to fill out some kind of form for such an occasion, given that they were frequently exposed to dangerous situations.
"My plan is to have Henri throw my body into the bayou and let the gators have me."
"And does he know this?"
Remy nodded. "I told him while we were waiting in the emergency room, and he asked, 'You want me to take you there now, or wait 'til you're dead first?'. With a broken leg and dislocated shoulder I was good either way."
She frowned. "How'd you manage that?"
"A merc tampered with my motorcycle. I figured it out in time enough not to die, but not in time enough not to crash. The second one they sent was much better trained. I still killed him though, but not before he got lucky with a knife. I almost bled out on the street." He shrugged. "But you know, c'est la vie."
This was exactly the kind of thing that she had been thinking about. Remy could have died, and she would have never known. It wouldn't have changed anything, but, "I wish that—"
"You had known?" he asked with a grin. "Now you understand what I meant."
She did. "Why was there a—no. Just tell me this, do you still have a bounty on your head?"
"Not anymore," he told her, happily. "After the third merc came sniffing around, I just offered to pay him more not to kill me. He came back two more times. I inadvertently created a bidding war for a little while there."
One of the cardinal rules for the Thieves was that they didn't just turn around and steal back something that they had personally stolen. It was kind of like a job guarantee. Apparently, not everyone operated by the same code. "No honor amongst mercenaries?" she asked.
"None," he said in a disgusted tone. "It was good for me though, and word got around. Now someone would have to have pretty deep pockets if they wanted to take a hit out on me."
The way he said it made it seem as though that fact was supposed to make her feel better. "I worry about you, Swamp Rat."
"Maybe I should give you Henri's number so that you can compare notes. Worrying about me is his favorite subject."
Henri was ten years older than Remy, so while Marie had always known the brothers to get along fine, Henri had been at a different stage in his life than Remy was back then. "You sound a lot closer than you were before."
"I'm still trying to decide if that's a good thing or not."
The scene at the graveside soon wrapped up, and they watched as her family members all hugged each other.
"I guess that's it," Marie said, and they walked back over to where everyone had parked. She said goodbye to her grandparents and promised to stay in touch. The only person she didn't say goodbye to was Mama. She never got the chance because her mother had gotten into the car before Marie could talk to her.
"Tell her I said goodbye," she told Granny-Mae. "Not that she cares."
Granny-Mae put an arm around her shoulders. "It's no secret that Ruth and I have had our differences over the years, but grief comes in many forms. Right now, she's hurting. It doesn't excuse her for lashing out at you like she did, but maybe you can understand it a little?"
"Maybe."
"She'll come around eventually."
But that was just wishful thinking. If her mother hadn't made peace with having a mutant daughter after the initial shock had worn off, then it was likely never going to happen. And in a weird way, Marie was okay with it. It made her sad, of course, but she wasn't going to force her mother to be a part of her life.
The mood in the car on the way back to the house was somber, a stark contrast to that morning's playful banter. That night would be the last that they would spend together, and perhaps they were both aware of the clock counting down the remaining hours.
They had originally discussed having a big, fancy dinner, but neither of them were in the mood for going out anymore. Instead, they ordered pizza and watched several episodes of a corny baking competition. It was so perfectly normal. Just a husband and wife on the couch groaning in unison as the contestants did something stupid.
When it came time for bed, Marie thought about Remy sleeping on the couch, and just couldn't. If it was their last night together, then she wanted to fall asleep next to him. It didn't take much convincing, and he climbed onto the bed after brushing his teeth.
With the amount of space between them, it felt as if the Mississippi River separated their two sides of the bed. Remy above the covers on the left, Marie under the covers on the right. There was no mistaking that, while they were technically still married, they weren't in a relationship anymore.
Marie reached over and turned off the lamp, then rolled onto her side so that she faced Remy. She couldn't see him in the dark, but that didn't matter. "Are you tired?" she asked.
"No, are you?"
"Not really." Every time she thought about sleeping, she thought about how she'd be leaving in the morning.
"Did you remember to charge your phone?"
"I plugged it in before I got into bed."
"That's good."
Yeah, because it sure would be a shame if her phone died overnight, causing her to oversleep and miss her flight because her alarm never went off.
Maybe if she was lucky there would be another power outage.
"You like it up there in New York?" Remy asked.
"It's all right," she told him. "I kinda like the snow in winter, and I don't miss the humidity or the tornadoes."
"Sounds like there's a 'but' in there."
"I dunno, it's just... Sometimes it feels like I'm living in another world. Like I got dropped into a parallel universe or something." One that she had ended up in by default, and not by choice. It certainly wasn't the life she had ever imagined having while growing up.
"You like being one of the X-men though," he said.
"I did. I do."
"That doesn't sound too sure."
"I do," she repeated, as much to convince him as to convince herself. "But after I took the cure, I stopped going out on missions. It's dangerous, and I told—well, I promised that I wouldn't. Before, though, the missions were the best part. Even if they were scary sometimes. It gave me a purpose. Something to focus on, you know?"
"Yeah, I get it."
"But I like helping the students—even if some of them regularly try my patience. A lot of them come to us from bad situations. We show them kindness and give them stability."
"Like Xavier did for you."
"Exactly."
"You think I could've been one of the X-men?"
He could've been one of the best, if he had wanted. "Yes."
He seemed to mull this over. "Is there still a teaching requirement?"
"It's a school, sug, we try to pull our weight."
"What do you teach?"
It was starting to feel a little like an interrogation. "What's with all the questions all of a sudden?"
"I'm curious."
It was probably the truth, though likely not all of it. There was something beneath the surface of his questions that Marie couldn't quite put her finger on. But maybe she was reading too much into it.
"I mostly teach hand-to-hand and self-defense," she replied. And she was glad. As frustrating as her students could be, she was infinitely happier dealing with the occasional broken nose than she would be grading English papers or demonstrating math problems.
"What do you think I could have taught? Art History?"
"We've got that covered," she said. "French, maybe?" They currently only offered German, Spanish, and ASL.
"Not if you want them to learn the kind of French they speak in France. You ever wanna see a grown man cry, you should see what happens when I leave a note for Thierry en français. I get them back sometimes with corrections in red pen."
She chuckled. "Okay, no French then. Ooh, I've got it—Sex Ed." Since Jean had died, they had all rotated the duty. "We can't get anyone to teach it permanently. You ever want to see an X-man cry..."
"Professor LeBeau," he said, testing it out. "Not sure I would've made a very good role model though."
"I think you would have." Just like he would have been a good father. Remy could have talked honestly with the students about his life experiences. And she had a feeling they would have listened to him.
Remy thought about that for a while, perhaps pondering the life that could have been, and then said, "One more question, and it's an important one."
"Yes?"
"Do you have one of those skin-tight, leather uniforms like the other X-men wear?"
"Oh my god."
"So, is that a 'no'?"
Marie pulled the pillow out from under his head and whacked him in the stomach with it. "What do you think?"
"I think it must be pretty sexy..."
She raised the pillow to hit him again, but he grabbed it before it could make contact. Damn his night vision. He wrestled the pillow away from her, laughing the whole time, and then tucked it back under his head.
"Do you want to know what I wear on jobs?" he asked. "Because I can describe it to you in vivid detail."
"Please don't."
"I think you'd really appreciate how well it showcases my abs—"
"I will push you off this bed," she warned.
"Maybe, but I'll be taking you with me."
Marie suddenly remembered something. "Actually, no, wait. Tell me about your uniform. Do you still wear that thing on your head that used to make your hair stick up?"
Remy yawned loudly. "Sorry, did you say something? I think I drifted off for a moment. I must be more tired than I thought."
She'd take that as a 'yes'.
"I asked if you liked it down there in New Orleans."
"It's all right," he said, echoing her earlier response, and she could hear the smile in his voice. "But the company's much nicer in Mississippi."
Yes, it was.