Joe Dent's office was, like its occupant, squat, and small, and grey. Situated deep in a rabbit warren of identically unobtrusive rooms. Freyr Njordson stormed into it in his usual fashion; without knocking.

He slammed the door so hard that it dented the filing cabinet behind it, sending folders tumbling from a stack on top. Uncaring, he stalked to the desk. Dent, who was on the phone, gave him a stone-cold glare and waved him away, but Freyr was undeterred. He thumped the file he'd been carrying down onto the desk and stabbed at it with his forefinger, shoulders hunched with tension. 'Sir,' he insisted.

Dent scowled at him and covered his mouthpiece, nose wrinkled in distaste. 'I'm on the phone, Njordson,' he hissed, pointing out the obvious. 'Get out. I'll deal with you later.'

Freyr clenched his fists, bit his lip and then leaned to the side, grabbing the phone's cable and disconnecting it from the socket.

Dent jumped in his seat, outraged shock on his face. He slammed the phone down. For a moment, the two exchanged glowers, neither ready to yield to the other.

This was how it always went. Freyr didn't respect Dent because he was an asshole and Dent, who couldn't believe Freyr's audacity, would use any excuse to get rid of Freyr. Freyr realized that his current actions played directly into Dent's hands in that respect, but at the moment, he was just too angry to care.

Eventually, Dent kissed his teeth at Freyr and made a noise like a growling scoff. 'Sit down,' he ordered.

Freyr sat, still leaning forward over the desk argumentatively. 'There's been a mistake,' he told his superior.

Dent leaned back. 'There's no mistake.'

Freyr indicated the file again. 'Well then I've misunderstood something, because it seems to me that-'

'However it seems, it is, Njordson. Loki Liesmith is flying to England tomorrow. We're letting him go.'

Freyr grit his teeth. 'You can't-'

'We can, and we will. What's the problem, here? Isn't this what you wanted from the beginning?'

'It isn't exactly what I had in mind, when I… we…'

'Njordson, listen,' Dent said, facial expression fluctuating peculiarly as he made a conscious attempt to be sympathetic. 'I understand it's hard for you to let all this go. You were there from the beginning. You were the one he called. Liesmith owes you his life, and another man's at that. Probably more. We're very grateful. But I don't see why you're being so belligerent, when all we're doing is sticking to the bargain you made; he told us what he knows, and now we're letting him go. A fresh start for everyone. Everyone wins. Including you.'

'You must think I'm stupid,' Freyr snarled. 'I see exactly what you're doing. You act like you're so generous, like this is some big favor, but no. You, you're… you're tossing him aside just because he's no longer useful to you, and trying to justify it through semantics. Loki has absolutely nothing, he has nowhere to go to - you are supposed to be taking care of him. That was the deal!'

'Do I look like the boy's social worker, Freyr? That's not my responsibility! Nor is it yours!'

'Whose is it, then? Because I sure as hell don't fucking see-'

'Enough, Njordson! Enough! We're not going to discuss this any more. My decision is final.' Dent loosened his tie, then jabbed a finger at Freyr before he could try to get another word in edgeways. 'Loki Liesmith is not some victim. With his criminal record, he's lucky he's not spending the rest of his life rotting in a cell somewhere like all the rest. I've played your little games, but enough is enough. I'm not indulging your adolescent sense of entitlement any longer. I'll tell you now, boy, and this is your first and final warning, if you ever come into my office and behave like this again, it'll be the last thing you do as an employee of this bureau!'

Dent stood up. 'Do you understand me now, Njordson?' he spat.

Freyr went very still. He breathed in and out through his nose. Then he nodded, looking down. 'Yes. Sir.'

Dent huffed. He turned around, wiping the sweat from his forehead, his face red from exertion.

Freyr kept his gaze hooded for a while, sitting in thought. Then he stared up at Dent's back. 'Sir,' he said.

'What.'

Freyr swallowed. 'I won't try to overturn your decision. I accept it. But… there's a therapist, Dr Vidia, in London. Maybe you remember her; she helped with the profiling for Davies last year. She's very well known in her field.' Freyr paused. 'All I ask, is for your permission to bring her in as a consultant.' He tapped to file again. 'To make it mandatory for Loki to see her. I know the state, and our people, have already given him the OK, but this way we'll have a second, professional opinion. And,' he added, licking his lips, 'we won't be in the line of fire if things go south with Liesmith. Because we did everything we could.'

Dent waved a hand at him, still scowling horribly. 'If it'll get you out of my office, by all means.'

Freyr's eyebrows raised. Then he nodded abruptly and excused himself.

'Wait,' Dent said, as Freyr opened the door.

He half-turned, pausing in the doorway. When his eyes flicked up to Dent's, the older man's expression was still incensed.

'I'm serious, Njordson. You cracked a big case, you were lucky. But don't delude yourself that you're any more valuable than anyone else in this department, just because you were at the right place at the right time.

'I won't tolerate disrespect like that from my men. This is your last chance.'

Freyr nodded. 'It won't happen again, sir,' he said, curtly, and closed the door.

As soon as he was out, Freyr allowed his absolute rage to become apparent in his body language again. He walked away from Dent's office and straight into the other, empty one, across the corridor. He closed the door behind him and locked it, trying to gather himself.

He could have a fit and punch a wall, or he could deal with the situation in a way that actually benefitted people.

In the end he decided to slump into an office chair and give himself a few minutes to calm down.

Two years of his life he had been on this case. Pretty much his entire career, he had literally put everything he had into it. And then there were men like Dent, who dismissed everything he had worked for – not to mention Loki's entire future, more or less – because it inconvenienced them.

Freyr wondered what he could have done. How he should have handled it all, how he could have made it all better. If there really was a scenario where 'everyone wins'.

He wondered how he ought to handle it now.

Setting fire to everything Dent owned would be a good start. Handing in his resignation was an acceptable alternative too.

He leaned back, staring desolately at the ceiling, and then shook himself

No.

He knew how he could handle it now.

He had to call Angrboda.

And, while he was at it, his sister.