Author's Note: If you're like me, and are tired of seeing Pietro being portrayed as strictly an arrogant, one-dimensional character on Evolution, then I think you'll like this story. In a way, I'm writing this as an escape from the stories that show Magneto as being an uncaring, neglectful and abusive father...and also there's no slash. I personally don't have a problem with slash itself, but often, I find it to be unrealistic...especially since these are just cartoons! P.S.- I don't own them, wish I did, but I don't.

Eric Lehnsherr cracked open the door to his son's bedroom. Peering inside, he watched his son sleep for a moment before approaching him. Time was running out though, so he quietly walked up to the bed and gently nudged his son.

"Ugh, no!" his son, Pietro, grumbled.

Eric smiled a little at his sluggish behavior, common in the morning. It was a stark contrast to his never-ending activity during the day.

"Pietro, get up. Now." Eric commanded.

He could hear Pietro mutter, "Tired."

"No excuses, now get up."

Sighing, the boy did as he was told.

Eric made him breakfast, and packed him a lunch while Pietro got dressed and ready for school.

"Pietro, what is the capitol of New York?" Eric had asked over his newspaper while Pietro sat across from him at the dining room table.

Pietro thought for a second, then, "Albany!" Eric peeked over the top of his paper, "Very good. Now get going, you don't want to be late."

On his way out, Pietro grabbed an orange from the fruit bowl in the kitchen.

He set out on his walk to school, just a few blocks away.

'New Groves Elementary School' quickly came into view.

Pietro groaned, he didn't like school very much. Despite his father's misguided thoughts, the life of a fifth grader was very difficult.

As if the classes weren't enough, Pietro was a favorite target for the bullies of the school.

He was smaller than they were. They liked to make fun of him because his name was a bit unusual; and because he was somewhat of a loner, he didn't have many friends who would stand up for him. Sometimes it just didn't pay to be unique.

'Nerd', 'Geek' and 'Shorty' were their favorite names for him.

"Hey, Pietro, wait up!" He heard from behind him on the sidewalk.

It was Mary Taylor, practically the only part he liked about school.

She ran to catch up to him, her blonde curls bouncing with each step. They had been friends since the first day of third grade, nearly two years ago. She was his best friend, and lately, it seemed like more than that.

She had made it a habit of meeting him before school started, just so they could talk. After class, Pietro would always walk her home, even though it took him twice as long to get to his own house.

"Hi Mary." He greeted her once she caught up to him. He took a wedge of orange and gave it to her. She smiled and fell into step beside him.

"Are you ready for the test?" she asked as they walked into the building.

"Yeah, I even stayed up late studying, just to make sure." Pietro yawned.

"Wow! I'll bet you do really well on it. I studied too, but I'm not sure I can remember them all." They came into their classroom.

"Well, state capitols are hard to remember, but you're really smart, you'll make a good grade too." He complimented her.

Mary smiled at Pietro and took her seat.

*^*^*^*

"Alright class, I have your test results, and I'm sorry to say that it looks like only two of you bothered to study. Pietro Maximoff and Mary Taylor, congratulations! The two of you each made an A+!" Mrs. Horton exclaimed.

The rest of the class was less enthusiastic. "They cheated!" cried out Mark Jacobs.

He was a large kid, one of the more promising players on the school's pee-wee football team. His dark brown hair was spiked and his eyes were beady; judging from the way Pietro flinched at his voice, it was obvious that Mark was one of his regular tormentors.

"Mark, shame on you! You shouldn't go about accusing people of cheating just because you made a lower grade. Besides, it would have been impossible for them to cheat; Mary is at your table while Pietro is at the one across the room. Now, I'd like you to apologize."

Mark rolled his eyes and muttered, "Sorry."

"Now, Pietro and Mary, come to my desk for your tests, you can take them home early, I'm sure your parents will be very pleased."

Pietro and Mary did as they were told, but Mark stretched out his leg and tripped Pietro!

"Ooofff!" he grunted as he landed on the floor.

The class erupted into laughter, and Pietro's face went red as a tomato from both embarrassment and anger. Mary ran over and helped him to his feet, "Don't listen to them, Pietro."

"Mark, that does it! Class, you will stay inside during recess and retake the state capitol test, and you can all thank Mark for his disgraceful behavior." Mrs. Horton announced.

Paper balls and insults instantly flew at Mark.

*^*^*^*

The bell rang; it was recess time for Mrs. Horton's class. Or, more accurately, for only two of her students.

Pietro and Mary ran out to the playground with the other fifth graders, while Mrs. Horton's students stayed in the room to retake their test.

Mrs. Horton went about the class, redistributing the tests, disappointment in her eyes. Why couldn't more of her students apply themselves the way that Pietro and Mary did?

She came to Mark's table, which was one student short. The other students at the table grudgingly accepted their papers and began to correct their mistakes, while Mark just scowled.

He didn't feel like redoing his test, he felt like beating up Pietro. The nerve of that little nerd, who did he think he was?

He stared down at his paper.

He had missed almost every question. Unfazed, he glanced out the window and saw Pietro and Mary on the swings. His blood started to boil, his fists were clenching.

Suddenly, an idea formed in his head. He raised his hand.

"Yes, Mark?" Mrs. Horton asked from behind her desk.

"Can I go to the restroom?" he asked, hoping for a positive answer.

He could hear her sigh, he saw he rub the bridge of her nose.

"Yes, Mark, you may. Here, take the pass, but no longer than five minutes, you hear me?"

Mark nodded as he took the painted ruler that acted as their room's hall pass.

"Yes, ma'am." he replied in his most respectful voice.

He headed down the hallway towards the doors that led to the playground, tossing the ruler into a trash can.

He stood still a moment, letting his predatory instincts take over. He remembered that Mary was wearing a pink sweater today; and everywhere that Mary went, Pietro was sure to go.

He looked at the swings; no, Maria and Tommy were on them now.

The monkey bars; no, Joseph and Jennifer were there.

The jungle gym; no, Sarah, Alyson, Michelle, Emma and Amber were playing on it, and so were Nicolas, Anthony and James.

He caught a flash of pink at his side.

Mary and Pietro were playing tag with some of the other kids in the small field on the side of the school.

He marched straight up to the little group, intent on causing trouble.

"Hey!" He barked out.

Most of the children froze, fearful of Mark's wrath.

"I bet you thought that was pretty funny, didn't you? What, you think you're smarter than me?" He demanded as he stalked towards Pietro.

"Well, let's see how smart you are after I crush your skull!" He bellowed.

Pietro stood still, determined to hold his ground. He didn't want Mary to see him run away like a little chicken.

Pietro had said nothing in response to Mark's words, he only glared at him.

"Mark, leave Pietro alone! It's now his fault if he's smarter than you!" Mary cried from off to the side.

Mark's anger suddenly shifted to her.

Pietro's stony expression broke into a grimace of concern for Mary. Mark was known for hitting people.

Boys AND girls.

Father had always told him never to hit a girl, no matter how angry you get.

Mark continued yelling, "You can't stop me, ugly!"

"Get away from her, Mark." Pietro ordered, redirecting Mark's anger.

Mark smiled meanly at Pietro from over his shoulder. "Ooh, afraid I'll hurt your little girlfriend?"

Pietro didn't know what to say, he had never stood up to Mark before.

"Well, you should be!"

Mark backhanded Mary across the face.

She was smaller than Pietro; making her much smaller and weaker than Mark, who was strong from years of peewee football practice.

She hit the ground and started crying, she was bled a little from the mouth.

Mark turned from her and came towards Pietro.

He looked at Mary, dirt on her sweater, blood on her face mixing with tears.

Pietro had never felt so angry before, he charged at Mark.

His tiny fist connected a few times with Mark's nose and eyes, but Mark was stronger, and more vicious.

"Oh, now you wanna fight?" he mocked Pietro.

He hit Pietro in the stomach, and then kicked him when he was down.

Several of the students had come from the playground to watch the fight, but were disappointed when the teachers rushed in to break it up.

Mark was pulled off Pietro, who was beaten terribly.

"Pietro, are you okay?" Mary asked once she could reach him.

Pietro 's stomach and head hurt, but he forgot about his own injuries once he saw Mary. Her clothes were dirty, and she was still bleeding from the mouth, but she was more concerned with him than with herself.

"Children, go back to your classrooms, there's nothing more to see here. Mary, that means you too." A teacher shooed her and the other kids away, then helped Pietro to his feet.

"Alright, let's look at you. Well, I would have expected more damage than this, but we should take you to the clinic just to be sure."

Pietro was a little surprised too.

He remembered how hard Mark was hitting him, but his body wasn't in much pain. He felt a little nauseous, and his whole body felt strange. Not painful, just a little weird, as if he had just been upside down, and all of the blood was rushing back down to the rest of his body.

But beyond the weird physical sensation, his head hurt from anger.

Mark had hit Mary, and then beat Pietro up in front of everyone!

What did he do to deserve this?

Nothing!

How did that justify being beaten? What had Mary done to deserve being hit so hard?

He looked across the schoolyard and saw Mark being taken towards the building, probably the principal's office. Mark turned around and made a face at Pietro.

Pietro's brain felt like it was swelling from his fury. That Mark Jacobs had been picking on him since they were in first grade.

Pietro had ignored the comments about his name being "stupid" and his hair being "weird"; he had reluctantly given up his lunch money, lying to his father and saying that he didn't like the food at the school cafeteria; he had tolerated the little bruises given out by Mark and his football friends.

'You don't just hit a girl and get away with it! He'll probably just get another detention and a warning not to be so rough, but he deserves worse!' He thought angrily.

He wriggled from the teacher's grasp, and ran straight towards Mark.

His feet pounded the pavement as he chased after the bully.

'What the...' he thought frantically.

Everything looked blurry and it all seemed to move in slow motion at the same time. Pietro was a little concerned, but he dismissed it from his mind, reasoning that his vision must have been affected when Mark had hit him in the eye.

Mark was directly in front of him, and Pietro charged faster.

Mark had split Mary's lip and ruined her sweater; Mark had probably given Pietro a black eye and several bruises on top of that.

Pietro knew that he would get in trouble for trying to restart the fight, but it would be worth it if he could push Mark hard enough and make him fall.

Pietro reached out and shoved Mark as hard as he could.

To his extreme astonishment, Mark practically flew from where he had been standing!

Pietro watched as Mark tumbled end over end across the playground.

The two teachers who had been walking him towards the school building cried out, "Oh my God, what happened?!"

That's what Pietro was wondering. He stared down at his hands, what did he do?

The teachers ran over to Mark, forgetting everything else. They ran past Pietro and the other students.

He suddenly felt guilty; he hadn't meant to hurt Mark so bad!

He looked behind him, and yelped, "Whoa!"

The ground was ripped apart in a trail from where he had been standing, all the way to where he was now.

The sidewalk was gone; all that remained of the walkway was crumbling cement. It was as if a bulldozer had come along and ripped the pavement from the ground.

Confused, Pietro stared at the trail that ended where he was now standing. Then, he looked down at the soles of his shoes. The rubber was worn down, and it looked as if it had melted somewhat on the edges. What was going on here?

He had just run on that sidewalk a second ago, hadn't he?

He still felt nauseous, and a little dizzy.

He shook his head, trying to shake off the weird feelings, when a teacher approached him. "Pietro, come on, we still have to take both of you to the office for fighting."

*^*^*^*

Mark was being taken care of in the clinical area, while Pietro sat and fidgeted in the waiting room. Mary sat beside him, but was keeping quiet, no doubt her mouth hurt.

He was just as surprised as the teachers to find that he had not bruised or sustained any real damage; unlike Mark who, he had overhead, received a broken arm and a bad scrape to the forehead when he was knocked over in the playground.

None of the teachers understood what had happened, and neither did Pietro.

He knew that it was he who had shoved Mark so hard, but he didn't know how it was possible. Mark was bigger and heavier than he was, how had he managed to do that? And the sidewalk, what had happened there?

He felt a shadow pass over him and looked up.

Eric frowned down at him, "Fighting, Pietro?"

Pietro looked down at the floor. "Yeah."

Mrs. Horton approached Eric. "Excuse me? Are you Pietro's father?"

"Yes I am, what happened here?" Eric asked.

"Well, Mr. Maximoff, you see..."

"My name is Lehnsherr, Eric Lehnsherr."

"Oh...I see." Mrs. Horton said, even though it was obvious that she didn't.

"Please continue."

"Oh, well, Mark Jacobs has made a bad habit of picking on Pietro this year, and I'm afraid that things just got out hand."

Eric turned from the teacher and knelt in front of his son. "Are you alright?"

Pietro nodded.

"Good. I think you've had enough excitement for today, you're coming home." He took Pietro's hand and began to lead him out of the office.

Mrs. Horton began to protest, "But Mr. Lehnsherr, Pietro still has to finish the rest of his classes."

Eric turned back to her, "I suggest that you stop worrying for my son, he'll be fine from now on, trust me."

Mrs. Horton had nothing to say to that.

*^**^^

The car ride was mostly quiet. Pietro worried about what would happen when they got home. No doubt his father was disappointed, and probably mad too. It wasn't like Pietro had started the fight though, he had just wanted to get Mark away from Mary. Maybe if Father understood the circumstances, he wouldn't be punished for so long.

"I'm sorry, father. I shouldn't have fought with him." Pietro said suddenly, in a small attempt to dissolve his father's anger.

Surprisingly, Eric did not answer him harshly, he did not sound angry.

"You should not have resorted to violence, but from what I understand, you fought back to protect your friend. The little girl with you in the clinic, I believe."

Pietro fidgeted. "Y-yeah, Mark hit her first, and I got mad."

"I'm sure anyone else would have done the same, son. But that's not what's bothering you, is it?"

Pietro looked out the window, instantly nervous. Did his father somehow know what he did? Would he get in trouble for it? "Um...what do you mean?" he asked, trying to keep his voice level.

"I saw the schoolyard's sidewalk, Pietro."

Pietro couldn't think of a way to explain that.

"I think it's time we had a little talk."