Farid sat in the therapy room, waiting for his client. They wound up not having a session the previous day with the first visitor coming, so he hoped to find out how it went from Dagur himself. Soon after he was brought into the room, Gobber removed the handcuffs and left them to their talking.
"How did the visit go?"
"You know Hiccup and his Hiccupy ways. I'm not sure if I helped anything or not. He knows about Heather now, though. He probably had a point with saying she wouldn't have come without getting some information first, so it wouldn't really be fair to not tell you still." He stopped to raise an eyebrow. "Did he tell you, though?"
Farid nodded. "He did. Are you going to explain the rest to her when you get to talk?"
"If we get to talk."
"You will. I heard from Hiccup today that Heather is going to come after work."
Dagur's jaw dropped. "Really? So soon? I almost didn't think we'd ever have that conversation. Now that we are…what if I screw it up, Doc?"
"But what if it goes well? You've wanted to talk with her since the day it happened. This is your chance."
The inmate tapped the table anxiously. "I don't think I'm ready. I mean, I guess it won't matter since she's already planning on coming, but I want this to work out and I don't know if I can make sure it does. If I mess it up, there might not be a chance to fix things. This might be all I have."
"You can do this," Farid said, certain. "All you can do is tell the truth, but when you do, think of things from another perspective. Don't just see things the way you did back then. Think of how she was feeling and how she could be feeling now. Don't be pacifying but be sensitive. You have it in you."
"I'm glad you think so at least."
"I know. I don't stay with clients who I can't help. If I couldn't tell you were getting better, believe me, you'd know."
This got a soft chuckle out of the inmate and he could feel his nerves ease. Before either knew it, the time had come for the session to end. Dagur returned to his cell and that was when time stopped going by quickly. The seconds passed like years. Finally, he saw Gobber again and they left to begin returning to the visiting area. Dagur's heart pounded in his ears and it felt like it stopped beating when he saw the raven-haired woman. Her expression was both cold and concerned. When he sat down, she seemed to instinctively pull back. After a moment, he reached for the phone and she did the same.
"Hey," he said, realizing he had not practiced the initial greeting as much as the explanation itself. With a nervous laugh, he asked, "How's it going?"
Heather was not as interested in small talk. Her penetrating gaze seemed to pierce his soul.
"What makes you think you're my brother?"
"I know I am," he answered confidently. "Years ago–longer than you would have remembered–you were abducted. Ever since that day, I've never stopped looking for you."
Heather scowled. "You're lying. I was in an orphanage after being abandoned by my biological parents."
"And who told you that? Your adoptive ones?"
The visitor paused and Dagur took this opportunity to continue. As he did, he considered Farid's earlier words and tried to be gentle.
"I'm sure this can't be easy to hear, but your parents were kidnappers. You weren't the first."
"How do you know that?"
"I started looking up different instances of kids going missing. They were all around your age. All were snatched in broad daylight right under their families' noses."
"That doesn't mean my parents did it."
"What do you really know about them?" Dagur asked, leaning forward. "You know that they kept to themselves, but did they ever really tell you why?"
"They didn't say it was because they wanted to lay low and not draw attention to their kidnapping lives, if that's what you're getting at."
The redhead had a serious look on his face. "I saw them. I bet ten years ago, they started really not leaving the house a lot. Am I right about that?"
Heather's expression changed to surprise, but it changed again to frustration. "Maybe. If you saw them, then it's just because you creeped them out and they didn't want to get stalked."
"No, it's because I stopped them. I went back to where we were the day you got caught and waited until someone left a toddler alone. It tested my patience, but it was worth it. There they were. They showed up and went to get the kid, but I scared them off." He growled at the memory. "If they hadn't gotten away, I would've found you way back then."
"I never saw other kids when I was with them."
"People are sick. They probably gave them to wannabe parents who figured it was easier than going the legal route and didn't care about the families they tore apart in the process."
Heather could feel herself getting angrier. "My parents were great people. They didn't kidnap anyone and they definitely didn't abduct me."
"I saw them! Didn't you think it was suspicious how they never told you anything about your birth family or the adoption process at all?"
"No, because they didn't want me to feel like they thought I wasn't their daughter. They thought it would be easier for me to just not think about that."
"Or they knew it would be simpler than trying to come up with enough details to satisfy your curiosity."
The young woman got quiet, but her glare remained fierce. "So, that's your explanation? You killed my parents for revenge?"
Dagur nodded. "For you and every other kid who never got the justice they deserved." He put a hand on the glass. "I know you hate me and don't believe me, but can you really be sure that I'm wrong?"
She looked conflicted. "It's between believing in the people I've known nearly my whole life or the person who took them away from me. Why should I believe you?"
Dagur lowered his hand. "I don't know why you should. I probably wouldn't if I were you, but I am telling you the truth. I have no reason to lie to you. It's not like you believing me is going to get me out of here. I still committed a crime, so telling you isn't going to help."
"If…if you're telling the truth, why didn't you go to someone when you saw them about to take the one child?"
The man smirked. "Because of the same reason you're so hesitant to believe me. I'm deranged, remember? It's not a new thing. Back then, I didn't think anyone would ever believe what I had to say if it made someone else look like the bad guy instead of me. They'd especially not believe me over a kindly couple. It's not like they left clues or a note which said, 'Hey! Got your kid, losers!' Sorta makes it hard to build a good case against them."
"So, you just decided you'd kill them?"
"I'm sorry that it hurt you in the process, but I'm not sorry it happened. You don't get the impact it has on the families."
"But you can't just kill people even if they do something wrong."
Dagur shrugged. "I was already headed this way. I don't plan on doing that anymore at least." His eyes became sadder. "Do you really not remember anything about your life from before?"
Heather put a hand to her head and sighed deeply, closing her eyes. "I'm not sure. It was so long ago. I sort of remember this toy I used to have."
The inmate's eyes lit up. "Yes! Remember its shape?"
"Um, yeah actually. It was round like a…"
"Shield?"
Eyes opening, the visitor looked at him in shock. "Yeah. How did you–"
"Because I used to watch you play with it! I told you, we're siblings. I know we don't look alike, but we've got the same eyes." An idea came to the inmate. "Look up Dad. If you can find an image of him, you'll see. You look a lot like him. You've got his hair and if you can find a picture with him and Mom, you'll see you have her nose."
"Even if I do that, it won't prove that my parents were the ones who took me. They could have been told the adoption was legal and someone else was the culprit."
"You definitely inherited Dad's stubbornness. Fine," he relented. "It technically won't prove anything besides us being family."
"It technically won't even prove that. At most, it'll show that I look like them."
Dagur gestured to his right arm. "If you want a blood test, just let me know. I've got plenty."
"I don't need to do all that."
"Then, you believe me?"
"I didn't say that either." There came a brief pause which Heather soon filled. "Assuming you're right, what did our parents think of me?"
"They loved you more than anything in the world," Dagur said with a smile. "When you were gone, it tore them apart from the inside."
"And judging by your reaction, I guess we were close?"
"Yes and no," he admitted, surprising her. "We were both so young then that I didn't know how to not play rough and you were so fragile-looking that I wasn't allowed to be around you a lot alone. I wasn't really close with anyone, but I still loved you. I blamed myself for what happened for a long time since I was the one with you in the car before I went after a would-be thief and you got grabbed."
"If we were kids, it's not really fair to place that blame on you."
This warmed the inmate's heart and a smile spread over his face. "I won't act like this would be easy, but if you could ever forgive me for what I did, I'd like to go back to being your big brother. I really liked being that even if I didn't do a great job."
Heather leaned her head back a little. "This has been a lot for one day. I can't just tell you that I'm going to forget what you've done."
"I wouldn't expect that."
"But I also don't necessarily want to just leave here and forget you."
"Really?" Dagur asked, eyes hopeful.
For a moment, Heather did not feel a burning hatred in her heart. She glanced away from him so that it did not fade. She had spent three years living with that enmity towards him. She would not relinquish it so quickly.
"I'll come back sometime. I'm not sure when…don't get shanked or anything before then."
When Heather left, she nearly missed the giant smile on the redhead's face. Dagur had no clue how this day was going to go and had just desperately been hoping it would not end with Heather telling him to die. The fact that she had actually expressed a desire for the exact opposite was both a shock and relief. Only, the surprises were not done yet for the day. Gobber knew something that neither the inmate nor psychologist did.
"Hey, Gob," Dagur said, looking around. "Can't help but notice we're not going to the cell."
"Well, we're going to a cell, but it's a different one." He smiled. "You're finally getting out of solitary."
The young man nodded. "A new cellmate," he thought. "This should be interesting."
Gobber seemed to know what he was thinking. "This could be a fresh start," he offered. "There won't be any attacks this time, so it would probably help too if you didn't attack him either."
"I'll do my best."
They stopped in front of a cell and Gobber unlocked it, letting Dagur in before removing the handcuffs. Curiously, Dagur took in the cell. It had been some time since he had been in an area with bunks. The bottom bunk was filled already and someone was sitting there. He was a bald man with a dark goatee. When he saw the newcomer, he sneered. Dagur sneered back, then stopped.
"Don't go back to those ways," he told himself. "Hey," he said. "I'm Dagur. Guess we're cellmates now."
The older man's sneer did not disappear, but it took on a more condescending look. "Clearly. You better not be a talker."
Dagur frowned at him but was not seen since the other inmate turned his back to the redhead.
"Do you have a name or should I just call you Grumpy?"
"You don't need to call me at all." He paused. "But I'm Ryker."
