Mutation.

It is the key to our evolution.

It is how we have evolved from a single-cell organism into the dominant species on the planet.

This process is slow, normally taking thousands and thousands of years.

But every few millennia evolution leaps forward.

.

1966

.

"Michael…"

Michael continued to frown while his mother sighed.

"I know you want to go to the movies with your friends, but there's no one to watch your sister."

"Why can't she go to a friend's house or something?" Michael whined.

"Michael," Mrs. Parker repeated, this time with more of a warning tone "She isn't feeling well, you know that."

"She's such a faker," Michael murmured, but he didn't complain about staying home to watch his sister anymore.

Once his family had cleared out of the house, Michael headed up to her room; knocking on the door.

"Come in." was the quiet response.

Michael entered to find his sister sitting on her bead; clutching her head in her hands.

"What's your deal?" Michael asked, actually starting to fell concern for her.

"My head hurts," she said, her voice watery.

"Did you take some medicine?"

"It didn't help."

Her fingers curled into her blonde hair; the pain in her head becoming worse.

"Hey-."

Suddenly, the window in her room crashed; exploding into a million shards.

Both of them stared at the broken glass the covered the floor until Michael spoke.

"Naomi, what did you do?"

.

1973

.

"Have fun?" Peter Maximoff asked his friend, girlfriend (he had to keep reminding himself that; it seemed too good to be true).

"Today has been..." she trailed off, giving Peter a smile that made his heart flutter "Thank you, Peter."

Peter looked down; bashful at her thanks.

"No problem."

Naomi Parker rolled her eyes but kept her smile; she leaned forward and gently kissed Peter, who was surprised at first, but soon returned it. They pulled apart after a moment and they both giggled with happiness.

"Quel beau couple!"

The pair looked over to see an older woman smiling at them and holding a Polaroid camera.

"Voulez-vous une photo?"

"She asked if we'd like a picture," Peter translated, Naomi smiling and nodding.

The pair posed; Peter stiffening up when Naomi wrapped her arms around him, but he soon relaxed.

The woman took the picture, the two teenagers thanking her once she'd handed it to them.

Once the picture had developed, both teens laughed at how bad they looked before they went on to explore Paris some more.

.

1974

.

"Happy Birthday."

Naomi Parker smiled bashfully as her boyfriend set a cake down in front of her.

"Thanks, Baby."

"You're sure you don't want to go somewhere?" Peter Maximoff asked, sitting down on the couch beside her "Or I could bring people here."

"Nah," Naomi said easily "I'd rather spend it just the two of us."

"Alright, Nerd," Peter said, Naomi rolling her eyes as Peter cut into the cake "Frosting to cake ratio?"

"As much as possible to as least as possible," Naomi replied, Peter chuckling softly as he gave her the slice with the most frosting.

Naomi bit into her cake and gave a happy sigh.

"Good?" Peter asked, smiling.

"Mhm," Naomi replied, her voice muffled because of the food in her mouth.

"Good," Peter said, getting some cake himself.

Once they'd finished their food, Peter disappeared for a moment, only to return with a box.

"Your gift," he said, giving it to her with a flourish.

Naomi took the box happily and tore into it; looking at what was inside quietly for a moment.

"I mean, I usually get you jewelry and stuff like that, and I know you like that, but, I don't know, I thought you'd like this, 'cause-." Peter rambled when he was nervous.

Naomi cut off her boyfriend with a kiss.

"Peter, I love it."

"Yeah?" Peter asked, relieved.

"Are you kidding?" Naomi asked, laughing slightly "A set of switchblades is right up there with diamonds."

.

1975

.

Peter Maximoff looked over at his girlfriend, who had been suspiciously quiet since she'd picked him up from the station and all through car ride. Finally, when they got home, he addressed it.

"So, you seem mad at me."

"That would be because I am," Naomi Parker replied, her voice taut as she walked into their bedroom.

Peter followed her with a frown on his face.

"What did I do?"

"We're not kids anymore, Peter!" Naomi snapped "And, listen, you know I have no problem with you stealing; I love it. But, I do have a problem with you being caught."

"But, why're you mad about me-?"

"Because I know you don't have to be! I know that you choose to be caught because you think it's funny." Naomi laughed without humor "But, guess what? It's not. Because I get to worry about them actually throwing you in jail, because, once again, you're not a minor anymore, Peter. And then what's your plan, Peter? Do I go back to live with my parents while you're doing time? Or do I just drop out of school while you rot?!"

It was quiet for a long moment; Naomi taking a deep breath before she spoke again, this time her voice troubled, not angry.

"It's not funny anymore, Peter."

It was quiet again, Peter taking in what she'd just said.

Finally, he spoke.

"I'm sorry."

Naomi looked up before nodding to let him know she acknowledged it.

"I won't do it anymore."

"Really?" Naomi asked, sounding both surprised and hopeful.

"I didn't realize it upset you," Peter said, before chuckling without humor "I'm kind of a dick like that."

It was quiet for a second.

"You're not a dick," Naomi muttered.

"Oh, I totally am," Peter replied, Naomi smiling.

"Yeah, you are," she agreed, seeming to cheer up "But, I love you."

"Good. Because I love you too."

.

1976

.

Naomi Parker frowned; she couldn't tell where she wanted to put the next one.

"Peter?"

"Yeah?" Her boyfriend asked, looking up from the couch; having been reading the back of a record.

"Where do you think?"

Peter frowned and looked over the tree.

"There," he said, pointing to a spot on the left side of the tree.

Naomi smiled gratefully before she went to put the bulb on the tree, her eyes catching on what was on their kitchen table as she did; their menorah.

"Peter?"

"Yeah, Baby?" Peter asked, now he was lying across the entire couch.

"What're we gonna do if we have kids?" Naomi asked, Peter frowning.

"Jehovah's Witnesses; have our family make as little sense as possible."

Naomi snorted; sending Peter an amused look as she got another ornament.

"I don't know, Ami; the same thing we've been doing now, I guess," Peter said, shrugging "We celebrate them equally; we'll just keep doing that."

"Yeah, okay," Naomi said, smiling before taking a few steps away from the tree "All done."

"Nice," Peter said, although it seemed he was pleased simply because now he could pull Naomi into his arms without her protesting.

Naomi curled up on his chest; admiring the tree she'd set up.

"I guess it's alright," Peter teased, Naomi pinching his side.

"It's the best damn Christmas tree ever," Naomi replied.

"Still, pretty alright."

"Keep talking like that and you're not getting your eight days of presents."

Peter shut up after that; he knew what Naomi giving him presents meant.

.

1977

.

"Happy Birthday."

Peter Maximoff raised an eyebrow at his girlfriend; she was holding a bottle of some undetermined liquid.

"Naomi, I could've gotten alcohol anytime I wanted to."

"Don't care; you're getting drunk tonight."

Peter laid back on the couch; smiling as Naomi moved to straddle him.

"Is this my present?"

Naomi smirked.

"If you'd like."

"Yeah, I would," Peter said, grabbing Naomi's hips and running his eyes over her.

"First…" Naomi said, popping the top off of the bottle before putting it to Peter's lips; having him take a swig.

The moment he swallowed some, he coughed raucously; Peter sitting up quickly as he choked.

"The fuck is that, Naomi?!" Peter demanded, taking it out of her hands and trying to find a label.

"I don't know," Naomi shrugged "Got it from Wade… He did mention something about 95%, though."

Peter gave her a horrified look.

"You could've warned me!"

"Sorry," Naomi replied, taking the bottle "Here."

She took a large swig of the alcohol; Peter sighing in annoyance.

The only response she'd given was scrunching up her nose.

"Yeah, that's pretty bad," she said easily.

Peter hated her stupid, good-drinking genes.

Then, something occurred to him.

"Naomi, you're only twenty."

Naomi caught on immediately; she knew the games they played.

"Oh, you're right; that was bad," she said, her voice a far too perfect emulation of innocence.

Peter took the bottle out of her hand before flipping them around so she was the one pressed against the couch.

"I'd better punish you."

Naomi giggled softly as Peter took another swig and set the bottle down; he seemed fine for a moment before he coughed.

"Oh, god; that is really bad."

.

1978

.

"What're you smiling about," Naomi Parker said, hip-checking her fiancé as she entered the kitchen.

"Do you know what today is?"

Naomi frowned.

"Should I?"

"Only if you love me."

"Well then, I'm good," Naomi said with a sly smirk, Peter Maximoff slapping her ass and making her jump "What day is it?"

"Five years ago today, I met a gorgeous girl who would then go on to wrap me around her finger."

"Oh, you mean the day that I met a hot boy who would almost immediately make my life better?" Naomi asked, wrapping her arms around Peter's neck; who faked concentration.

"You know, I think you're right," Peter said, Naomi giggling before she leaned in to kiss him quickly.

"Ready for the next five?" She asked, Peter snorted.

"More like fifty."

Naomi groaned dramatically.

"You know, if I'm going to have to suffer at least fifty more years with you, I think you're going to need to remind me the reason I stayed with you five years ago."

"And that would be?" Peter asked, Naomi smirking.

"You fuck me good."

Peter grinned when Naomi was suddenly over his shoulder.

"I'll jog your memory, then."

.

1979

.

"I thought this was bad luck."

"Screw it."

Naomi Parker giggled as her husband-to-be pulled her close.

"You look amazing," Peter Maximoff murmured, running his eyes over her "Like-Like…"

"Like a bride?" Naomi offered, smiling while her eyes shined.

"Like my bride," Peter said, rubbing circles on her back "You look like what I'd imagine when I was a kid, but I would energetically deny I'd imagined."

Naomi giggled, laying her head on Peter's chest.

"I'm so excited."

"Not too long," Peter said, looking at his watch "About half an hour."

"Mrs. Naomi Maximoff."

Peter laughed slightly; just as delighted at the sound of that as Naomi was.

Then, the man leaned down and gently pressed a kiss to Naomi's lips, the woman sighing in pleasure. After a moment, they broke the kiss and Naomi studied Peter's face: his pale skin, dark eyes, all framed by the funny colored hair she liked so much.

Their babies would be gorgeous, she knew it.

"Peter?"

"Mhm?" Peter said; he'd been studying Naomi's face as well; especially her blue eyes.

"You said we had thirty minutes, right?"

"About."

Naomi smirked; Peter returning it as he had the exact same thought.

He suddenly hoisted her up and planted her on one of the vanities, having swept off the cosmetics that had been on it.

Naomi giggled with happiness as Peter disappeared under her wedding dress.

.

1980

.

"You're really gonna do it, huh?"

Peter Maximoff sighed; looking over at his wife.

"If you really don't want me to, I won't."

"No, no," Naomi Maximoff protested "If this is what you want, then go for it… It's just… It's always been like this; ever since we met."

"Yeah," Peter agreed "I'm kinda tired of it."

Naomi's smile was bittersweet.

"Yeah, you're right; do it."

With Naomi's blessing, Peter ran off.

About forty-five minutes later, he returned.

"Naomi, I'm back!"

Naomi ran into the room, pausing and running her eyes over him; Peter shifted uncomfortably at the silence.

Before he could defend himself, Naomi's face broke into a grin.

"I love it."

"Really?" Peter asked, smiling slightly.

"Yeah!" Naomi said, walking up to him and running her fingers through his hair "It's not too short or too long. It suits you."

"Yeah?" Peter asked, happy now.

"Yeah," Naomi said, smiling "I can still run my fingers through it, which is important."

"You can still pull it, you mean.

"Don't act like you don't love it.

.

1981

.

"You are a complete moron."

Naomi Maximoff smiled at her husband, the man giving her a dirty look.

"Hospitals, Ami, ever heard of them?" Peter Maximoff asked, pulling the thread tight on the second stich.

"Well, you know," Naomi started, her voice conveying she was in more pain than what she was letting on "People ask questions when a blonde chick shows up covered in blood with a giant gash in her arm."

"And a katana strapped to her back?"

"And a katana strapped to her back."

Peter finished up on the stitches; wrapping her arm up in a bandage.

"What was it this time?" Peter asked, passing Naomi a bottle of what they'd dubbed "95"; Naomi giving him a grateful smile before she took a swig.

"His dad hit him."

Peter snorted before he spoke, his voice low and sarcastic.

"You make it hard to be mad at you about this."

"Probably because it's the right thing to do," Naomi offered.

"Yeah, whatever," Peter muttered, heading to the kitchen with the bloody rags.

"Peter…?" Naomi said, following after him.

"I said it was hard to be mad, not impossible," Peter said tightly as he disposed of the rags.

"But-."

"We have built our entire lives together, Naomi," Peter said, spinning to face her "What do you think is gonna happen to me if you screw up one day and end up dead in a ditch?"

"But, I'm helping people," Naomi said, sounding at a loss.

"I know! That's what makes it hard! But I am mad, Naomi; because if something happens to you, well then I'm screwed, because my entire future is wrapped up in yours. Because if I lose you, then I'm done. Game over."

"… What do you want me to do? Stop protecting people?" Naomi asked, her voice argumentative.

"No! I don't know what I want; tell me when you're heading out to do these things, maybe? Figure out a way to get me if things start going bad?" Peter said, rubbing his hands over his face.

It was quiet for a moment.

"Okay."

Peter looked up, surprised; Naomi wasn't known for compromises.

"Really?"

"I mean, if this is worrying you, yeah; I'll do those things," Naomi said, shrugging.

It was quiet again.

"Sorry, I'm just not used to getting things like this from you without a fight," Peter said, Naomi rolling her eyes.

"Do you want me to use my post fight adrenaline on arguing with you or…?" Naomi trailed off and Peter swallowed hard.

"Yeah, that second one."

.

1982

.

It was the eighth night of Hanukkah; Peter Maximoff was gently playing with his wife's hair as they sat together quietly.

"Peter?"

"Yeah?" Peter asked, looking down at the woman curled up to him.

"I actually got you a present this year," Naomi Maximoff murmured.

Peter looked down at her with a small smile; Naomi rarely got him materialistic presents since he could get whatever he wanted.

"Do you want it?" Naomi asked.

"Hell yeah," Peter said, smiling happily as Naomi rolled her eyes.

"Alright, hold on," Naomi disappeared for a moment before reappearing with a box in her hands "Happy Hanukkah."

Peter opened it quickly and looked over it; it was a photo album.

"It's-It's of the two of us," Naomi said as Peter flipped it open "Like when we went to Mardi Gras three years ago and our wedding. And, um, yeah, that one."

The first picture in the album was the very first picture they'd ever taken together.

It had been about three weeks after they'd met; they'd been in Paris when someone had offered to take a picture of them, which they'd accepted. Naomi had her arms around Peter's neck and was leaning her head on his shoulder while beaming for the camera; Peter was leaning his head on her head, but his smile was slightly dampened by the fact he looked kind of shocked. Peter remembered still being surprised Naomi was into him at that point.

Suddenly, Peter was hugging Naomi; his face buried in her neck and his arms tight around her.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," Naomi said, smiling slightly.

It was quiet for a moment; the couple continuing to hug.

"I'm not crying," Peter hissed.

"Definitely not," Naomi agreed.

.

1983

.

She was sleeping.

Peter Maximoff sighed; leaning against the doorframe as he watched his wife's gentle breaths. Her blonde hair was falling into her eyes as she slept on her side; her skin was paler, he observed, except for the dark circles under her eyes.

She was still beautiful, of course; she always was.

She shifted and Peter caught on the sparkle on her left hand and his mind immediately jumped to their wedding day. She'd been so beautiful in that white dress, practically shouting 'I do' when the time came. She'd been so excited to spend the rest of her life with him, and he was convinced he'd been even more excited than her.

Peter sighed as he came back to their current reality.

He hesitantly entered the room; grabbing the chair they'd moved into the room and sitting down beside the bed so he could watch her. She hadn't been sleeping that heavily, though, because as soon as he did, she opened her eyes.

"Hey," she said quietly, with a small smile she'd managed to produce for him; Peter returning it with one of his own. Peter gently took her hand in his; rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand.

"Hi," he said, reaching out to stroke her hair out of her face "How do you feel?"

"Tired," she replied, shrugging slightly; that wasn't surprising.

"Did you eat anything today?" Peter asked, immediately noticing the guilty look in her eyes "Babe… You need to eat."

"I'm not hungry," she replied.

"I'll make you dinner, okay? I'll-I'll make your favorite."

"We had that last night, Peter," she said, a small amusement in her voice.

"Yeah, well, I'll make it again," Peter replied, immediately happy he'd said that; it made her smile.

"Okay… You can wake me up if I fall asleep."

"If" seemed generous; her eyes were already sliding shut.

"Alright," Peter said, letting it be quiet for a moment before he leaned forward and kissed her forehead; he thought she'd been asleep, but she spoke softly.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

.

Naomi Maximoff had been diagnosed with late stage cancer a month and a half ago.

It ran her family, but it had never occurred to either of them that it would happen to her. Peter had originally imagined two deaths for her; either she went out in a blaze of glory, because she was dramatic like that, or she died of old age. Either way, Peter was right there with her; he never imagined her dying without him going with her as well.

He mentioned that to her once; Naomi had just taken his hand and smiled.

"As long as you're here beside me, I'll be okay."

Peter cut into a red pepper harshly; taking a deep breath as he tried to calm himself.

It wasn't fair.

Why did so many horrible people live while Naomi suffered?

Her step-dad was still thriving while Naomi was sick.

Peter gritted his teeth as he remembered the last time he'd seen him; Peter had gone to Naomi's parents after the diagnosis and told them what was happening. How Naomi was… He'd told them everything.

They hadn't cared.

They didn't say it, but Peter could see it in their eyes; he could practically hear their reasons.

We haven't seen her in four years, why should we care?

Because she's your daughter you pieces of garbage.

If he had a daughter, then-.

Peter put down the knife and leaned against the counter, taking a deep breath;

Don't go there, Maximoff.

But, he couldn't help it; his mind jumped to two weeks ago.

"What will make you happy?"

Naomi smiled at him; taking his hand in hers.

"I'm not kidding; anything in the world and it's yours," Peter promised; this was all he could do for her right now "Was there ever anything you wanted that I never got you?"

Naomi's smiled slipped away and Peter realized he just hit on something.

"Naomi, whatever it is, it's yours now."

"… This isn't something you can get for me. Not anymore."

"Naomi, tell me," Peter said, concerned as Naomi looked down; shaking her head as tears began to fall "Naomi, please."

Naomi looked up, Peter's heart hurting as she tried to hold in tears.

"You'll feel bad if I tell you."

"Naomi, that doesn't matter; please, tell me," Peter insisted.

Naomi was quiet for a second; sniffing and trying to pull herself together. Finally she deemed herself ready to talk.

"I always wanted a baby."

Peter rubbed his hand over his face; remembering the drop in his stomach when she'd said that, still feeling the overwhelming guilt.

He'd always been the one to say they should wait; he figured that they had time and he enjoyed it being just him and Naomi. That dynamic had been so good, he'd been worried about losing it, so they'd waited.

But now it was too late.

Naomi had had a good point, of course; if they'd had a baby, that child would have to suffer along with them. She said she was glad they weren't taking a kid along on this shit-show.

But, it didn't stop the guilt.

It would've been so easy to give her what she'd wanted; Naomi would've been an amazing mom, she would've raised an amazing kid.

The mental image of Naomi all big with his baby, or her nursing a small newborn, or playing with a toddler…

Those images used to get him excited for the future, but now…

He hated them.

Peter's thoughts were suddenly interrupted; the TV was turned down, but the figure on screen caught his attention.

Erik.

Peter turned up the TV so he could listen to the report; Erik had resurfaced and had killed a bunch of people, as per usual.

Peter felt his hand tighten into fists; his knuckles turning white.

How many people had he killed, Peter wondered. Thousands, probably. How many of those were innocent? Some of them had to have been.

How was he still going? How was he still alive after all of the things he'd done? He didn't deserve to be alive; he was a horrible person.

Peter chucked a lamp at the wall; the fixture slicing through it like butter because of the speed.

It's not fair.