Disclaimer: This fan fiction is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended.

“Mrs. Rasputin,” the auctioneer muttered, “You appear to be beeping.”

Kitty blinked, surprised, and then pulled out her cell phone. Carefully put down the priceless Ming vase she was surveying and retired to a corner of the auction house’s stage. The entire crowd including Pyotr was staring at her, waiting for her to give her opinion as to the artefact’s authenticity, but she didn’t mind that. She’d gotten used to being stared at in her X-Man days. Besides, her cell was playing the opening bars to Rachmaninov’s piano concerto and there was only message recipient she used that ring tone for-

And that recipient was Marie.

If Rogue was calling something was well and truly wrong.

Kitty pulled out her phone then, took one look at its newest message and then nodded to herself. Went over and picked up her coat, handing her press pass back to the auctioneer and gesturing for Pyotr to follow her to the door. The auctioneer tried to stop her- “Mrs. Rasputin,” he snapped, “Where do you think you are going?”- but she ignored him. She’d give back her fee just as soon as she was on a plane-

But right now she had bigger things to worry about. Like the fate of her sensei.

And maybe the world.

“Do you mind telling me where we are going, maya meela?” Pyotr muttered then as they stepped into the elevator. She showed him the text message, saw his eyes widen when he read it. He understood the gravity of the situation now. It was one word- Houston. As in Houston, we have a problem. Marie’s idea of a joke.

“U nas yest problema,” he muttered. “We have big problem.”

“Da, mwoy meel,” Kitty muttered. “That’s why we’re going to Westchester.”

With that the elevator doors pinged shut.

“Chere,” Remy muttered, “Tell me you turn dat phone o’ yours off.”

And he turned around, face incredulous, to stare at Jubilee as she pulled out her I-Phone. Stared at the screen and read the message she’d just received. Below them his favourite Da Vinci (the Mona Lisa was so over-rated) was waiting, just waiting, to be stolen. To be liberated from the hordes of busy tourists and taken to a better place. A fee-paying, client-owned better place. He’d been working on this for months: They had an almost perfect copy tucked inside his staff and their escape route was already cleared. It would be their biggest haul yet, enough to set them up for life and make them legends-

But one look at his belle chere’s face and Remy knew that the painting wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

Because Jubie was looking worried. And whenever Jubilation LeBeau looked worried then shit had a tendency to start going ka-boom-

“Sorry, sweetheart,” she muttered. “But we gotta go.”

And she shot the painting below her a tiny, regretful wave goodbye through the grated duct.

Jubes knew she should have felt sorrier- after all they’d been planning this heist for weeks- but her phone was playing Deep Purple’s Smoke on the Water and she only used that ring-tone for one person. Marie. Which meant that the message she was opening now was from Roguey, and if that was the case-Well, Leonardo would just have to wait.

So she tapped the view-screen, opening the text. Reading it, nodding to herself and gesturing to Remy to fall back. She began crawling back through the air vents, all thoughts of the job driven from her head, already mentally calculating where they’d get false travel papers at this time of night- And how they’d advise Storm of their status without setting Interpol on their tail again. Since the last time that bitch Danvers had chased them for the better part of a year. Gambit followed her, swearing to himself in French but trusting her judgement…

And when she showed him the message, he booked the tickets back to the States himself.

U nas yest problema: We have a problem (Russian)

maya meela: My sweetness (feminine)

Da, mwoy meel: Yes, darling (masculine)