When we embrace what lies within, our potential knows no limit. The future is filled with promise. The present, rife with expectation. But when we deny our instinct, and struggle against our deepest urges... Uncertainty begins. Where does this path lead? When will the changes end? Is this transformation a gift... or a curse? And for those that fear what lies ahead... The most important question of all... Can we ever change what we really are?

— Heroes, Season 1 "The Fix"

Chapter One: Poison of your age

When Wendy Darling was a little girl, she would fall asleep with a childish wish weighing heavy on her heart. Every night, the wish was the same. Wendy wanted reality to reflect the magic of dreams. She wanted the fairies and the monsters and the far away lands filled with castles worthy of her storybooks. She wanted to touch the moon and bring it down to earth. She wanted fearless princes with dashing good looks to steal her away on miraculous journeys. But, above all, Wendy wanted to fly.

She used to imagine herself gliding through the wind, pirouetting with a gentle breeze. She'd wave down at her family, they would look so small from her height, and let loose a euphoric laugh. She'd dance on the clouds and soar with the other birds. Flying would be her bliss.

Then the entire world changed.

Wendy was eleven when the mysterious girl threw herself from the top of a ferris wheel and lived to tale the tale. The public exploded. And suddenly Wendy found herself in a world where magic did exist, if only for some.

And, as a young and naive girl, she was determined to be counted among them. Wendy would spend hours outside, leaping from the branches of tall trees or off especially large rocks, desperately wishing for the weightlessness of flight to overcome her. Each time, she'd return home with a bruised body and a wounded pride. Meanwhile, the world was becoming a scarier place for powered people, yet the danger was not great enough to deter Wendy.

The day her father found out what she was doing, she had never seen him more terrified. For a week he kept her locked in her room, making phone calls to her teachers about a "highly contagious illness" and even batting her brothers away from the door, restricting her contact with the outside world. Wendy cried the entire time, but not from the isolation or cruel punishment. She cried with the realization that she was not special. She was ordinary. Just an ordinary girl with lofty dreams and impossible goals.

That was the week Wendy Darling decided to finally grow up.

—

There was a flash of light and then the room was dark once more.

Wendy's heart raced as she lifted her hand to her eyes, which were momentarily blinded. Blinking quickly, the spots in her vision cleared and she stared down at her hand hesitantly. It looked normal enough. And yet —

Impossible. She chided herself shakily. Bedtime stories have gotten the better of you, silly. All the same, her breath hitched.

Dropping the phone in her other hand, Wendy bolted towards the window and closed the living room curtains sharply. Her eyes snapped back to the phone, remembering the reason for her fear moments ago, and watched it warily from the distance. It still glowed from the last time she had used it and her body shuddered at the memory of the message she had just read.

The screen shone through the darkness, before fading a notch and eventually going completely black. Wendy felt herself calming in the comfort of the dark room.

"Just a cruel boy playing wicked games," Wendy encouraged in a whisper. "Nothing to fear." Still, she hugged her middle and squeezed her arms as if to convince her humming body of her words.

Wendy stayed in the dark room for longer than she wished to admit, afraid to move into the bright, exposing light of the hallway. Adrenaline pumping through her veins, a restlessness overcoming her. Wendy rung her hands anxiously, all at once needing to let off some steam, but feeling helpless and paralyzed to do so.

—

It had started about a month ago. Mysterious notes in her locker, the occasional flower on her desk — Wendy had honestly found the entire scene charming (and it spoke to the hopeless romantic in her). She practically glowed everyday at school, ignoring the other students who thought it was cheesy or naive when she giggled at a sweet message or dreamily plucked the petals off a vibrantly blue daisy. A boy liked her. A boy was taking an interest in her and wished to court her. The beginning had felt like a fairy tale.

—

Keys jangling on the other side of the front door and Wendy recognized the sound of her parents squabbling. Her father was being cheap again. Wendy snatched her discarded phone, scrambling half way up the stairs before she heard the door finally opened.

"I'm just saying, George, I don't believe the waiter truly scoffed at us." Mrs. Darling hung up her coat and hat, smoothing her hair with delicate fingers. Wendy watched from the staircase, careful to avoid the squeaky floor board on the seventh step as she snuck her way up the stairs.

"You didn't see his face when he saw our tip!" Mr. Darling huffed, stomping his feet on the welcome mat to shake loose any clinging raindrops and propping up his umbrella. "He didn't deserve a five percent tip in the first place, I was already being generous to the lad. Then he had the audacity to make that absurd sound. Ha! This isn't bloody America, tipping is no requirement for respectful service."

"Do you think we should check on the boys?" Mrs. Darling wandered further into the house, with Dr. Darling still fuming about the restaurant behind her.

"He — what? The boys? Mary, isn't Wendy the one who ought to be checked on? She did ask to stay up late, the silly girl."

"Wendy is responsible, need I remind you who it was we found sneaking out of bed to play pirates the other night?"

Mr. Darling turned red at the correction and cleared his throat in embarrassment. "Yes, well Wendy is not in primary school anymore."

"She's growing up, George."

"Exactly!" Mr. Darling snapped his fingers, "and next thing we know, she'll be asking to go to parties or, heaven forbid, on dates with boys. We must squash this rebellious attitude while we still can."

"I hardly think of requesting a later bedtime as a rebellion." Mrs. Darling giggled lightly, causing Mr. Darling to turn several shades redder.

"She's going to wake up Jonathan and Michael!" Mr. Darling exclaimed stubbornly. "In fact, I think it's about time we moved her out of the shared room and into a bedroom of her own. After all, she is growing up, Mary."

Wendy's protests almost flew out of her mouth.

"Oh, George, you know Wendy would be devastated. She loves reading John and Michael stories as they fall asleep."

"It isn't proper for a girl her age to speak such nonsense. Neighbors might talk and then where would we be? Think of the assumptions — that the Darlings had an Evo-sympathizer for a daughter!" He spoke the word as if it were tainted, but Wendy could hear the pang of fear seeded deep in his voice. "First thing tomorrow, we will tell her the news." Mr. Darling turned away from any disagreements Mrs. Darling might speak and headed for the stairs. "Come along now, Mary."

Wendy leapt from the crouched position she had been in at the top of the stairs (so intent on listening in) and dodged into the nursery. Nana looked up sternly from her pillow but wagged her heavy tail at the sight of Wendy. She slowly shut the door and patted Nana on the head, quieting her thudding tail, then snuck over to her bed.

"Are Mother and Father home yet, Wendy?" The little chirp came from Michael, who lay tucked under his covers across the room.

"Michael! What are you doing awake?" Wendy's eyes darted to the door, but no footsteps sounded outside.

There was a scoff from John's corner of the room as he sat up in bed. "Honestly, Wendy, I'm hardly younger, it isn't fair for you stay up but not me."

"John! Michael, boys, we should all go to sleep now, before Mother and Father come in to check on us."

"But-" John argued insistently.

"Close your eyes!" Wendy hurried, slipping up her covers and squeezing her own eyes shut.

"But aren't you gonna tell us a story, Wendy?" Michael's persistence was endearing, but Wendy kept her eyes tightly closed (thinking of the fear in her Father's voice).

"I'll tell you a story tomorrow, Michael."

A small 'okay, Wendy' came through the darkness of the room as they drifted off to sleep.

Wendy had no experience with sweet crushes, that much was true, but she never expected a secret admirer would turn into a waking nightmare.

About three weeks after receiving sweet letters and flowers everyday, no one yet had come forward to claim her affections. She futilely scanned her classmates for a sign that it might be them, a longing stare or shy smile, anything to help her connect the dots to her mysterious secret admirer.

Finally she had caught wind of a party happening over the weekend and realized it was her best chance to figure out the truth — in a social setting, certainly her crush would reveal himself. With a simple lie about studying at a friend's house, Wendy found herself free Friday night at a party filled with her peers.

After accepting a few drinks from a girl in her mathematics class, Wendy felt courage pumping through her veins. Across the room a boy smiled at her and Wendy (filled with hope and longing) decidedly marched over to him.

His name was Robert Mullins; he had a strong arms and smelled of sand and leather.

Wendy's tongue felt strange and heavy in her mouth as she spoke to him, but he didn't seem to mind. He talked about some sporting event she had missed and she nodded her head encouragingly. She attempted to mention the gifts, to see if it was truly him who had been leaving them in her locker and on her desk, but was distracted by feeling of his hand on her arm. He smiled again and she lifted her eyes hopefully to his. Suddenly his mouth was on hers, with lips moving against her own. Taken by surprise, Wendy instinctively pushed back and fell out of the kiss and onto the ground. Nearby a couple of kids snickered.

Wendy blushed a deep red and looked up at the boy who had taken her first kiss. He almost seemed annoyed as he helped her back to her feet. Wendy stammered an apology as Robert mumbled something about getting a drink. So she waited. And waited. And finally left the party, heartbroken and humiliated — sure that she had ruined her only chance with her secret admirer.

Monday Wendy found a dead bird in her locker.

—

Mornings at St. Marylebone were fairly hectic, with no one wanting to be late, but at the same time, not particularly wanting to get to class. Wendy adjusted her heavy backpack as she entered the school building, thankful to have escaped the house before there was any mention of her moving out of the nursery.

It's not that she wouldn't appreciate the space, but there was something about the nursery that Wendy still clung to. The spitfire little girl she once was before the burden of maturity.

While other students loitered around their lockers in the hallway, Wendy avoided hers. Since the dead bird incident last week, she had resorted to carrying all of her books with her, class to class. Eventually she would confront Robert about the awful things he'd done. That was, if he even was her secret admirer. He had to be.

In the most humiliating form of torture, she suddenly saw him across the hall. Leaning over a blonde girl, clearly moved on, with his hand resting on her arm. Tormenting her with threats and cruel words as he flirted casually with a new target. Her stomach felt sick and a white hot rage inside her threatened wipe the grin from his face. Wendy shook her head but the compulsion refused to leave.

With tight fists, Wendy found herself approaching the boy. She felt five years old again, ready to fight her bully with no thought of the consequences. It was almost exhilarating. He glanced over her as she walked closer, at first indifferently but then with slight familiarity.

"I know you, right?" He pointed at her curiously as she halted in front of him and the girl, the latter who glared at her lazily.

"Yes." Wendy corrected her posture to appear taller. "Yes, you kissed me at Rufio's party."

The other girl made a face and left without a word. Robert didn't seem to notice and gave a sheepish smile as he rubbed his neck.

"Oh, uh, I did?" Robert looked away, nodding at a friend who passed by.

"Yes. And—" Wendy's mouth went dry but she persisted. "And you—you've been sending me awful, threatening messages ever since. And you need… you need to quit it before I tell the proper authorities."

"Proper auth— what are you talking about?!" Robert blanched, "That's rubbish, I don't even have your number, why would I message you?"

Wendy's bravado faltered. "The bird, you left a dead bird in my locker…" No, no it had to be him.

"Look, have no idea what you are talking about, but" Robert suddenly looked angry, "if you breathe a word of this, it won't matter. You could get me tossed out of school or… Just stuff it." He grabbed her elbow aggressively and regret flooded Wendy.

"I didn't mean—" Wendy yank at her arm, desperately trying to get away while remaining composure. People were clearing the hall to get to class, no one noticing or caring to intervene.

Robert pulled her closer, eyes darting around the hall as he snarled "I'm sorry you have some psycho stalker, but it's not me and I'm not about to let some desperate slag ruin my reputation."

"Let go," Wendy yelp at his closeness, her dignified order lost in her frantic scramble to get away. She put her hand on his chest to push back, but before she could use any force she felt a warm burning in her hands. Just like the night before, her urgent need to protect herself was overwhelming. She felt tingly and hot, too warm for her own skin. The heat inside her raced through her veins, trying to find a means of escape. Wendy nearly screamed as, suddenly, a bright white light pulsed out of her palms — knocking back Robert in a brutal flash. The next moment he was slammed against the wall.

This drew people's attention but, fortunately, as they clamored to help him, they ignored Wendy completely.

Wendy jerked herself back before the overwhelming shock could take hold and fled the now crowed hallway, ignoring the exclaims from other students as she shoved past.

Her hands still burned and the skin glowed as if a someone shined a flashlight through it. Wendy gripped her hand together tightly and ran into the nearest lavatory. Falling through the door, she clutched the sink and caught a vision of herself reflected in the mirror before her. A sweating, frenzied version stared back.

The room's lights surged with light, bright and unyielding, before the bulbs bursted and rained glass down on the dingy tiled floor. Wendy cowered and looked down at her hands which seemed to absorb the escaping light.

"This… this is not…" she choked on her own words, because the scene before her was more real than anything else had ever been. "I - I couldn't be a…" She didn't dare speak the word, but her stomach clenched all the same. In the back of her mind, she wondered whether it was with horror or delight?

Without warning, or because she was too preoccupied with the earth shattering reality before her to notice something as simple as approaching footsteps, the door began to swing open. Wendy darted into a stall at the furthest corner of the room and listened for voices, then blushed a deep shade of red. This was the boy's room.

"That bitch," she heard a boy curse as he stormed into the seemingly empty room. Wendy's dread increased, of course it would be him.

"Why won't the light turn on…" another boy grunted from the doorway, futilely flipping the switch up and down.

"She thinks she can get away with threatening me… I'll show her. I know what I saw." The threat hung in the air and Wendy felt the warm fear spread through her again, but this time she was ready and clenched her fists. She couldn't afford to panic now.

"Saw?" The other boy asked, clearly not listening, as he kicked some glass on the ground and relieved himself at a urinal. But Robert wasn't listening either and Wendy could hear him give a painful hiss. She peeked out a sliver in the stall door, watching him carefully.

He pulled the collar of his shirt down to expose more of his chest and was holding a wet paper towel to it firmly, gritting his teeth. He muttered a few more choice words before pulling his hand away. Wendy almost gasped at the sight. The skin was blistered, bright red and shiny, in the shape of a small handprint.

"Freak" he growled and touched the mark again.

He cursed loudly and Wendy shook, she had never made someone so angry, not even her father with his quick temper. The other boy seemed disturbed as well, leaving the room quickly. Robert threw the towel on the ground aggressively and stalked out, slamming the door behind him. Wendy remained frozen in the stall, only unclenching her fists and coming out at the sound of the warning bell ringing in the hall.

She smoothed her hair, without her Mother's grace but with the same efficiency. With a final glance at the mirror, Wendy eased the door open and slipped into the hallway. She allowed herself a small smile.

Robert was right, she wasn't normal.

Wendy Darling was special.

Across the hall, dark eyes watched her possessively.

A/N: Yes, Peter will have a power and trust me, it's very fitting (and no, it's not just the antithesis of Wendy's!).