Shadow was running. Of course she was. Running, running, always running, the night growing darker as she journeyed further into the heart of the city. The sound of her pounding feet echoed down the deserted alley as she finally slowed to a walk. It was safe by now. I hope. The long shadows closed in around her, but she could see her surroundings as clearly as though the sun shone overhead.

Comes with the territory, I guess. Shadow tried to ignore the way that the dark seemed to lap at her feet, her personal ocean of night. Not that she disliked the presence of darkness – it was almost comforting, really – but sometimes she wished it didn't show such an affinity for her. A constant aura of dark, shadows that followed no matter where she went . . . it tended to strike fear in others. She was everything from 'demon' to 'fallen angel' and worse. Did darkness always equate to evil?

Running. Always running.

Shadow paced the length of the alley, tortured by memories, lost in thought. She had first noticed her . . . uniqueness two years ago, at the tender age of 16. After the fight. When the information was revealed that powers manifested when the individual was angry or scared, it made sense. But it still wasn't fair. She never asked for this. Am I still being punished? The uninvited thought crept back into her mind, a constant question in her heart. Was it her fault, because she had yelled and screamed and said unimaginable things in the heat of anger? A sudden approach wrenched her from her pondering.

The arrival of the stranger was by no means subtle: the pattern of his heavy steps indicated running, and his labored breathing reached her ears at the same moment he entered her line of sight.

Shadow locked eyes with the stranger for a split second, chocolate brown to midnight black; his dark eyes filled with anger and suspicion before he raised his hand toward her. She panicked, which immediately flooded the alley with pitch-black darkness.

Damn. Shadow stilled and held her breath, listening. She didn't have to wait long. A few seconds passed, then the silent night was broken by the sound of someone tripping over random objects, immediately followed by the sickening, unmistakable crack! as skull slammed into brick wall.

Ah, shit, Shadow groaned, gesturing absentmindedly in the air. The unnatural darkness slowly retreated, like the tide being pulled back out to sea. When the moon and stars could be seen in the sky again, she moved to investigate the damage she had wrought. Sure enough, the man had run headfirst into the wall, knocking himself unconscious. Shadow could see the blood streaming from the gash on his head. She fought to keep herself calm; head wounds always bled more than others . . . right?

As she watched him and worked her mind, trying to figure out the best way to handle the situation (leave him at a hospital? leave him here?), Shadow noticed something astounding and frightening. The bloody streak that ripped across the man's forehead was shrinking. Becoming smaller. Closing. Shadow's eyes widened, staring at the wound healing itself. Soon, so quickly she could have blinked and missed it, the flesh was smooth and free of injury. Shadow reeled; of course she knew of the rumors, the whispers of regeneration 'specials,' but this was the first she had encountered. He was still unconscious, though, and still presented the dilemma of what to do with him. Shadow peered closer, examining the man. There was something familiar about the disorder of his thick, black hair . . . his heavy eyebrows . . . the gorgeous but terrifying lines of his face . . .

Oh, no, she thought, not him.

Her mind screamed at her to run. Run from this man, this killer, run because he would bring nothing but pain. But Shadow rarely listened to her head. And her heart told her that she had caused this, so she had to fix it. Ironic, isn't it?

Shadow sighed, lifted him onto her shoulder, and began to walk toward the place she called home.

Head resting on her shoulder, her recently-injured victim groaned.

Shadow stroked his hair and whispered his name.

"Sylar."