Hey dere readers! I was bored on Sunday so I wrote a big chunk of this chapter. I thought it might turn out longer but I was wrong. There isn't much else I could do with this one.

This chapter contains a variation in text boldness, this basically indicates where a flashback of sorts is taking place, don't take it to heart if it bugs you.

Anyway enjoy it!

Chapter 3 Weakness

An old woman moved silently through the remains of five Sentinels in a normally busy public street. Two were otherwise intact, bar damage to internal circuitry but the rest were broken beyond repair. Three mechanical faces were scattered randomly around the site.

The woman smiled, her grey eyes flickered to yellow, her skin faded to blue, even the cardigan and loose trouser suit she wore warped into a provocative white dress. Even for a shape-shifter her standard form was beyond ageless, beyond the normal bounds of youthfulness. She turned to observe each and every detail of the X-men's triumph over pitiful machines.

Mystique grinned. "You have become strong, my daughter," she said proudly into the night air.

One of the pompous clowns she used a henchman approached. Pyro was the least imbecilic of them, which wasn't saying much considering the rest.

"Wait 'till you see this," he cooed, the British man lacked any form of charm or class.

"I don't much like waiting, you fool."

He handed her an envelope, "Your little girl's got a bit of a weakness there, ma'am."

Inside the envelope was a tiny electrical device. It was an almost two-dimensional square with a single black circle on it.

"Voice operated," confirmed Pyro.

"You may leave," said Mystique, with the essence of a queen.

Pyro stalked away as fast as he had appeared.

Mystique inhaled slowly as she held the device to her lips, "Find Rogue" she said with as little personality as possible. These silly voice recognition things expected everyone to sound the same.

"Sixteen extracts feature voice of 'Rogue'" echoed the buzzing of the machine. These were recordings from where the X-men resided. They were constantly being listened in on, everywhere but the infamous war room.

On the day the microphones had been installed at Xavier's mansion she'd disguised herself as an electrician, claiming the mansion was unsafe and set about putting one in every room, every area of the gardens and every vehicle. Thankfully, years of training had rendered her psyche impenetrable by the likes of Jean Grey, meaning her true identity was not revealed. The recording devices were never removed but several had been damaged by the youngster, Jubilation Lee's unreliable powers.

The envelope also contained photographs. All of them had Rogue as either the subject or being caught in the background. In every single one she was by the side of one of her teammates. They seemed happy to be so close to one another. Mystique felled a prick of envy burn through her.

"Remy LeBeau," she murmured, running a finger over the face next to her foster daughter's, "I never thought anyone could make her smile like that."

The recordings were apparently dialogues between Rogue and this LeBeau. They had been pulled out of the hundreds of hours of irrelevant speech and put together by a non-mutant Mystique had threatened.

"Play extract," she said, a little anxious as to what she might hear.

"Now playing extract one, entitled, 'Playing cards,'" said the annoying voice of the playback device.

"How about we make dis game more interesting, chere?" said the one they called Gambit with his thick Cajun accent.

"What would you suggest, Sugah?" she replied in a dreamy, careless tone.

"How 'bout the winner gets a kiss from the loser?"

"Are you out of your damn mind?" upon first hearing, Mystique had thought she was genuinely angry.

"You'd better win then, chere."

Rogue was too clever for that, "But that means you'd have to kiss me."

"Then the damage would be self inflicted and your conscience would be clear, no?"

"Quit foolin' around Cajun or I might just accept that offer."

"Then all my dreams would come true. Well, not all of them." The hint was too strong for even the most innocent of minds to ignore.

"Sometimes I wish you were just a bit less charming, Remy."

"Oh and why is that?"

"Cause then I could give you a damn good slap across the face and not feel bad 'bout it."

"Is that you surrendering already? Gambit's disappointed."

"I ain't neva gonna give in to a swamp rat like you. Now are we gonna play?"

"Sure thing, Cherie,"

"You don't know how much I wanna touch you right...now..." Rogue stuttered at the end realising exactly how he would interpret that sentence.

"The feeling is mutual," his voice was soft, and sickly sweet.

"Gambit stop teasing her, and Rogue you stop encouraging him," the third voice was dull and righteous and came from their leader, known as Cyclops.

"Mon amie, 'tis only harmless."

"Nevertheless, it could end up messy. I'm deeply considering separating you two."

"Cyke, consider getting your nose outa' other people's business, and while you're at it you should consider pulling your head out from your own backside. We ain't doin' no harm." It was Rogue's sharp wit that got him to shut up.

"So where were we, cher?" snickered LeBeau.

"Damn, whose turn to play is it anyway?"

"I tink it's mine."

"Oh no, it ain't, Cajun. You're after ma glory."

"Gambit's after a lot more than that."

"You're unbelievable!"

The extract finished with laughter. The kind that's genuine and pure. This hurt Mystique, she'd been denied such companionship for so many years that the very sound of it pierced at her eardrums.

After listening to a few more flirtatious recordings, Mystique pondered her options. She could quite easily use this to her advantage. She could hold him and have Rogue come to bargain for his release but it was too obvious. Besides, it was entirely possible that the X-men could carry out a rescue mission even with all of her Brotherhood against them.

No, there had to be a more fool-proof way of winning back her daughter. She glanced at a particular photograph. LeBeau had his arm around Rogue's shoulder. One of her hands was bare so she held her arm out to the side, as far from him as possible. Despite the words, Mystique knew that they could never touch. Perhaps this was her weakness.

In the long months she'd trained Rogue, the very concept of weakness was alien at best. The girl had the power of powers, the mutation that could overcome any obstacle, bar one... touch. Every human being craves it, needs it, and wants it, but Rogue, poor unfortunate Rogue could never experience even the most innocent touch after her powers emerged. No matter much she desired otherwise, her skin was a weapon, nothing more, nothing less.

This Gambit, this friend of hers could hold the key. With a push in the right direction he could make her snap, make her do anything for touch. Their friendship was strong, weeks of recording and photography had shown that, but was it really only friendship in Rogue's inexperienced heart? Did the change in her tone of voice not show more than trust? Was the smile in the photograph really put on for the sake of the picture? Mystique knew the answers, she knew her daughter too well.

"I thought I told you never to show weakness," she said to the photo as she faded back into the form of an elderly woman.