Disclaimer: I don't own anyone in this except for the mom and daughter.

Mystique's fingers drummed along the side of the chair, nonchalantly watching the people moving about the airport. She was in one of her favored forms, an old woman, features weathered with age, and hair stark white. A metal walking stick lay in her lap, a small prop adding credence to her disguise as well as being an easily accessible weapon. I look like Irene. She frowned at that, pushing away images of her dead lover. Focus was needed on any mission.

"Don't stare!" the woman across from her snapped at a little girl, thrusting a pizza shaped cardboard box into the child's hands.

"What's wrong with her eyes?" the girl asked, groaning when the box didn't open.

"Be quiet and eat," the woman answered, smiling apologetically towards Mystique.

She didn't acknowledge any of it, her fingers continuing their steady flick against the metal. Mystique forced herself not to smile at the mother's growing exasperation. She kept her attention towards the gateway, waiting patiently for an opportune moment. No one would expect the fragile, blind woman to be an assassin. Not when she would disappear easily after the kill, her form shifting, losing herself in the crowd of onlookers.

Slowly, she turned her attention to the pair, confident neither of them noticed she was watching. Family, she thought looking at the child. Someone had threatened her family and she would be swift in dealing out the consequences.

She listened to the child complain about needing to use the bathroom before they walked off. Slowly, Mystique stood and followed them, satisfied as people moved out of the way. Entering the bathroom, she saw the child go into a stall, singing Jack and Jill, the mother waiting impatiently at the sink. No one else was in the room and Mystique stumbled as she moved towards the stalls.

The woman was at her side just as Mystique knew she would be, offering a helping hand. Mystique looked at her, flashing yellow eyes at the woman as she changed into her usual form, smiling at the horror in the woman's eyes. "Hello, Hilary," Mystique hissed, grasping the woman's wrist.

"Pleaseā€¦ my daughter," Hilary pleaded, turning a concerned gaze towards the stall the child was singing in.

"You should have thought of her before you ordered a hit on my daughter," Mystique snapped, breaking the woman's neck.

Unceremoniously, she dropped the woman to the floor, shifted to a new persona, and exited the bathroom, ignoring the screams as the girl left the stall. Family was everything and Mystique would be damned if she allowed anyone to destroy what she had left of it.