(no subject)
“Hullo,” a mild, yet vaguely accented voice called as a young man entered the vehicle, hands shaking; eyes wide with trepidation.
“Where are you headed?” Mohinder asked gently, eying the youth as if he might disappear at any moment.
“Find Claire,” he mumbled, wringing his hands and fiddling with the seatbelt buckle.
“What was that?” The geneticist asked carefully, wondering idly (and completely without logic) if he should even start the car.
“Uh,” the boy started, groping for something anything to tell the driver. “Well, I’m not… exactly sure where sh-it is. I, uh-could you just drive that way?” He gestured vaguely, and not in any particular direction.
Mohinder sighed, feeling put-upon; deciding to just drive.
“Hey, Mr Suresh,” the kid asked suddenly, glancing at his nametag dancing fiercely as the Indian drove with abandon.
“Hm?” Mohinder asked, quashing the irritation in his chest that demanded he correct the boy with his proper title.
“Uh…” An imperceptible emotion flickered across his face as he wrung his hands a bit more urgently. “Have you ever felt like you were… meant to do something-like it was fate?”
He looked so sincere that Mohinder held back the ‘Are you just asking that because I’m Indian?’ that sprang to his tongue.
“And I’m not just saying that because you’re Indian.” A friendly brush of fingers against an arm, an easily exchanged smile.
This wasn’t Zane Taylor, Mohinder realized suddenly, pulling the car over mechanically.
“Something wrong, Mr-“
“Dr Suresh, actually,” Mohinder clipped, feeling miserable. “And yes, I do understand. Some things are fate.” It was cryptic, and yet rang true, making his throat go dry.
A bloodied iPod, a shell of a woman once brimming with life…
“I met this man…”
Sylar
“I didn’t believe in fate before today,” he said cheerfully, running nervous fingers through course hair. “Uh, I think I know where I need to be now.”
Mohinder tried to regain his bearings, though he felt the bile rising in his throat. He had met the real Zane Taylor, in his taxi… such a short time ago, and yet… It seemed an eternity ago that the man had been able to bounce and hit on him and see his favorite band be tributed. Mohinder wished he knew where he needed to be.
The boy’s demeanor had shifted completely, instead of jittering and fidgeting he was now as still as death, directing Mohinder flawlessly. His lilting Southern twang was gone from his speech, his voice lowering and flattening out the more he spoke. And his eyes were unseeing; void. Mohinder recalled Zane’s Sylar’s blank look when Dale had died, the suggestion of calling 911 from the road.
As the young man clambered out of the taxi, his clumsily anxious nature returned and he hit his head on the way out. He began to walk away, and then ran back, paying Mohinder through the window. He was so startled that someone had actually paid him he didn’t even care that the kid was short.
“I hope you find what you’re looking for, Dr Suresh!” he called cheerfully over his shoulder, eyes twinkling.
Oh, he would find his revenge, so help him Kali.