Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Law and Order franchise. It belongs to Dick Wolf, NBC and any other respective copyright holders. This story is written purely for my own amusement, no money is being made from it and no copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Notes: I would like to start by saying that I have nothing against the practitioners of religions based on Norse mythology, whether it is Ásatrú or any other variation, and I do not wish to offend anyone. I am, however, not one of those believing that Norse mythology defends the views of anti-Semitism or racism. That said, this story is written in a way that allowed me to use some of my own interest in the subject of Norse mythology and symbolism. Second, this is my very first fic written in the L&O fandom, I spent some time experimenting with this, and I'm still not sure if I've gotten it remotely right. Therefore I would appreciate feedback from you reading this. And third, and this could cause a problem of sorts, I've never been to New York city, so if I've done something totally off target, I would appreciate someone telling me so I can look like an idiot for the least amount of time possible. Fourth, and last, this is the longest Author's Note that I've ever written.
What was that sound? Sharp, mechanical and loud it seemed to pierce not only her eardrums, but also the rest of her head. Then it stopped, and she breathed a sigh of relief, but alas, there it was again. Just as sharp and loud as last time. Her mind was now effectively on its way out of the hibernation of sleep and into reality, life and another morning. Was it morning already? It seemed like only a few minutes since she had fallen asleep. Still more asleep than awake she extended an arm to turn off the deafening sound. But it wasn't the alarm clock.Then it hit her. After alarm clock her mind went down the list of other things that could cause such noise, and ended up on phone. More specifically her cell phone, which was now chiming merrily, almost jumping up and down on her night stand because of the vibration mode.
With a sleepy groan that sounded, rightly, as if there was nothing she wanted more than to throw the bloody phone into the nearest concrete wall, and go back to sleep, she fumbled around her nightstand for it, sending an already unstable pile of assorted books crashing to the floor in the process. Pressing the 'answer' button, she held the phone to her ear; ready to tear whomever was on the other end of the line a new one for waking her, unless it had been for a damned good reason.
"Miriam Sage?" enquired the male voice on the other end.Instantly a little more awake by hearing her own name pronounced by someone else, she answered a "Yeah, this is she.""This is Captain James Deakins from New York, Major Squad."James Deakins? The name sounded familiar to her, but with her mind still working a bit slow from the abrupt awakening, it took her a few seconds to find the entry 'James Deakins' on her own internal hard drive. "Oh, hi… what can I do for you?"There was a short pause, and there was something about the silence that made him seem hesitant, thought Miriam to herself as she put her feet into her slippers and got out of bed. Her bedside alarm clock showed 5.45 am, in other words, way too early.The Captain continued."I have a case here that I think would benefit from your expertise."Now, this is strange, she thought. How could her expertise come in handy for Major Case in New York?"Captain, I assume that you do know just what my expertise consists of… I mean no disrespect, but I'm afraid I don't quite understand how that could possible be relevant to Major Case."Again, the voice on the other end of the line hesitated."It's a complicated case, and rather difficult to explain… I was wondering whether I could send you some photos that our guys took at the crime scene. Maybe you would understand more, and I could have your insights?"Miriam didn't know what to say, except "yes", so she agreed and gave the Captain her e-mail address, and in return got his phone number, agreeing to call him as soon as she had seen the photos. As she hung up the phone she thought that this day had every potential to be out of the ordinary, it had at least had an unordinary start.
A little over an hour and a half later, Miriam Sage walked into her office. It was medium sized, but still seemed cramped from the clutter that occupied all but a very few surfaces. It would, in all probability, be a rather quiet day, so Miriam didn't feel too guilty over being curious as to what the promised e-mail from James Deakins, Major Squad, would contain. After checking the surface of her desk for messages and other things she should see, she settled in her office chair and pressed the 'on' button on her computer. She used the few minutes it took for the machine to get ready to fix herself some tea, and she re-settled herself in her chair just as her desktop became visible on the computer screen, the image was of a large Ash tree that spread out across the screen. It was an illustration of Yggdrasil, the Tree of the World.
Opening her inbox Miriam quickly found a new mail from a J.Deakins. She opened it, and saw that there were several attachments, all of them with a .jpeg ending, indicating that they were all pictures. The contents of the mail itself was short, first a warning that the pictures showed graphic content, which was, judging by the way the warning was formulated, not a pretty sight. After that, the mail repeated what they had agreed on the phone a couple of hours previous.
Curious by nature, she didn't pay too much attention to the warning given, and opened the first picture. When the picture popped up she sat dumbstruck for several minutes, just staring at it. It wasn't so much the dead body on the picture that scared her, nor the fact that he was a murder victim. It was the feeling of normality that the picture conveyed. The young man in the photograph lay on a table made of white stone, as far as she could see it was marble. He had no clothes on his upper body, and if it hadn't been for the wound that was located directly where his heart was, she would have thought that he was merely sleeping. There was little blood visible, at least from the angle that this picture was taken. It didn't look like there had been any form of a fight; he bore no visible marks of having defended himself from whomever it was that had done this to him. He had simply lay down, and died.
After working past her reaction of the inhuman way of the young man's death, she spotted the first clue as to why Major Squad needed outside assistance with this particular case. There were markings on the young man's body, and they were markings not commonly used these days. Judging by what she could make out from the picture, the markings had been painted on his body either with fingers or a thick pencil. She could not make out what could have been used as ink, but she did recognize the markings. They were runes, Nordic runes, used by some centuries ago to carve stories into stone for preserving their memory through the ages, and by others to cast powerful magic both good and evil. She knew about runes, both through her studies and through interest. She also knew that runes were all but common in the age that she lived her life. So what were they doing painted on this poor dead man's body?
She opened the rest of the photos, mostly from the area that surrounded the body. It seemed the body had been found in a rather new, expensive looking apartment, from what she could see modernly furnished with sharp edges and smooth surfaces. The sight of the furnishing brought a small smile to her face, together with the thought "I could never live in a place like that" popping up in her head. She was fully aware that she was not the most well organized person, except from when she had to be in work-related conditions. Both her office and her home were usually in a variable state of mess, depending on if she had bothered to clear some of it up or not. Looking at the interior of this man's apartment, she could only conclude that, had she lived there, every available surface would have been filled with all and everything at the blink of an eye.
The next picture showed what she assumed to be the possible murder weapon. It was a long sword, beautifully decorated with silver and stones with a deep red glow. She caught herself wondering if the stones were real, because if they were, they would probably belong in a price range about the same as what she would make on a couple of years of work.
There were no more pictures attached to the e-mail, and she leant back in her chair, taking a deep breath, and tried to take in and comprehend what the images had shown her. After a while, she took a sip from the tea, which had now gone cold, and picked up the phone to make a call she now knew would definitely change at least the rest of her day, if not longer. The answer came swiftly on the other end of the line.
"Deakins.""Hi, this is Miriam Sage. I've looked at what you sent me…" A brief silence on the other end, and then;"So, what would you make of it?"Miriam decided to measure her words carefully when she answered him. "To tell the truth I found it somewhat…confusing. I have more questions than answers; some apply to my involvement and others to what I saw from the pictures."The answer was once again hesitant, as if Captain Deakins as well had thought that he was better off to measure his words. "I understand… ask the questions, but let me decide how to answer them. " Fair enough. First of all I want to know why you called me. I understand why you would want outside help, but wouldn't it be wiser to call in someone whose profession had more directly to do with symbols and their meanings?""Professionalism is not all that's important in this case, Miriam. I need someone I can trust…""…to keep this private and not to go to the press?" She inquired, but she knew she had come to the right conclusion. The striking silence on the other end of the line spoke for itself. "You said the case was complicated. In police lingua that's the same as saying high-profile. You need someone you know well enough to know that they can keep what they know to themselves. And you called me. As flattered as I am by that, I'm not sure how much I can help."
She heard a chuckle, and his voice saying;"I have a detective here that I think would love to meet you… But tell me what you saw on the photos I sent you.""I recognized the marks on your victim's body. As far as I could tell they're Nordic runes. Not exactly common anymore, they were used by the Vikings about a thousand years ago. I have no idea what they were meant to signify in this case, though. The pictures weren't detailed enough for me to make out any single rune.""I need you to do better than that, Miriam. I was hoping you could give me something solid.""I've been as specific as I can, I'm afraid, working only from the pictures you sent me.""Ok…then we'll have to do this another way. Is there anyway you could come to New York"Miriam wasn't by any means used to the situation she now found herself in, she was used to spending her days among the shelves and files of the National Archive, and she was happy with that. Now she had a police officer on the phone asking her to get involved in an ongoing investigation. All of this caused her answer to be rather hesitant. "There would be… if you can find a way to clear it with my supervisor, that is."She chuckled, and added; "…and I'd brace yourself for that one.""Consider it done." Was the quick reply, and that surprised her somewhat. Most other people she knew were positively terrified of her supervisor, and would most likely have hung up the phone at the mention of him. The only explanation she could come up with was that this had to be more important than she had realized up until now. "I want you here on the first flight you can get on, alright? I'll take the heat from your supervisor.""Ok. Then I guess I'll see you in New York."
When she hung up the phone she sat for a while wondering what she had now gotten herself into. She came to the conclusion that even if she questioned his methods, she had to at least give James Deakins credit for being well-informed. She had still not come so far as to comprehend the reality of what she now was to embark on. She had never been this close to a murder investigation in her life before, and she still didn't see what good she could do. She knew herself, and those around her, well enough to know that she usually was of more a nuisance than a help. But Deakins had asked her to come to New York, so she was going to New York. Besides, she thought, he can just as easily put me on a plane home if I get in their way.