When the next day came, Farid adjusted his schedule again. This time, he was going to speak with Dagur first. Blackouts would not be an issue in the middle of the day. Therefore, the change was going to be a permanent one. The psychologist waited in the therapy room for Gobber to return with the inmate. Like before, the officer returned soon and unchained Dagur. Farid noticed that Gobber seemed a bit down, but he gave a small smile to the two before leaving.

"Hey, Doc," Dagur greeted. "Back to where we were?"

Farid nodded. "Yes, you were telling me about what happened to your sister."

The redhead's smile faded. "Ella didn't die. She was kidnapped."

"Kidnapped? And Oswald chose not to tell anyone?"

"Well, he did tell some people," the inmate clarified. "He told a couple private detectives, but that was it. He didn't even tell Stoick."

"How did it happen?"

A look of shame appeared on Dagur's face. "It was after Mom died. Dad took off from work to care for Ella, but everything was just getting to be a lot for him. I think he was becoming really depressed and was struggling to not show it. One day, he said we had to go out so he could buy something. He didn't say what–just that we had to go. Ella was too little to be home alone and he wasn't going to leave me there with her or in the house by myself in case I 'burnt it down' somehow.

"We went to a part of town I'd never been to before. It seemed interesting. There was a bunch to catch your attention. People were everywhere and all seemed to be in the middle of something. It was strange, though, too. Dad parked the car and said he'd be back in a little bit. He was gone for a while (or at least it felt like it). After a while, I noticed that someone had come over to the car. He was squatting by the front, so I started wondering what he was doing. Turns out, he was trying to steal the rims. I got out to shoo him away and figured I'd practice my best monster roar as I did. It worked to freak him out, but I wasn't done yet. It had been so boring in the car, so I chased after him for a bit until that also got boring. Then, I went back."

Dagur stopped talking and swallowed hard. "She was gone by the time I reached the car. I started to panic and looked around to see if I could spot her crawling around anywhere. I couldn't. She was gone. I didn't know what else to do, so I found Dad."

The young man began frowning. "He was talking to someone and buying something, but it didn't take him long to realize something had happened to her. He rushed back without the bag and we split up to look for Ella. We stayed out there all day, but neither of us could find any trace of her.

"Dad got worse because of that. If he was depressed before, he was practically dead afterwards. I kept trying to see if I could find clues to who took her, but he wouldn't even help. I don't even think he got the car dusted for fingerprints. He just kept it so that only a few people knew. His reason was that he couldn't have a scandal. There was an election coming up for judge, so he wanted to make sure nothing kept him from getting the position. People might have started asking questions or thought he was incompetent. He said his job was the only good part of his life he had left. It was just easier to say Ella got sick and died than admit why we were in that area in the first place."

Dagur crossed his arms angrily. "I never gave up on her. I knew she was still out there. I refused to just accept that she was gone. She was still my sister and she needed us even if Dad wasn't willing to fight for her. He wasn't willing to fight for anything, so it shouldn't have surprised me as much as it did." He hesitated for a moment. "I guess it should have told me how things would go in the future."

"What do you mean?"

The inmate scratched his head sheepishly. "Well, if he could give up on Ella so quickly, I should've known if anything ever happened to me, he wouldn't even lift a finger to help."

Before Farid could ask more questions on that topic, Dagur continued talking. He stood up and walked to the wall.

"It all started when Mom died. He needed her more than any of us. She kept him going."

"How did she die?"

"That was my fault too," Dagur said miserably. "I kept freaking her out, so she started drinking more to help keep her nerves calm. It never worked, but she convinced herself that it did. Even if it didn't remove the problem, I guess it made her more numb to it. It was one of my more deranged days that she couldn't take it anymore. She had been drinking a lot that day and said she needed to get out of the house…that was the last time I saw her. Dad got a call later that day about her being in a bad accident."

"I'm sorry," Farid said sincerely.

Dagur did not look at him, instead staring at the table. "Don't be. It wasn't your fault. If I'd been more normal, she wouldn't have begun drinking so much in the first place and definitely wouldn't have been out there."

"That's not a fair burden to put on yourself."

At this, the inmate glanced up. "How isn't it? I turned her into an alcoholic who crashed while driving and died. How is that not because of me? She loved Dad and Ella. She was always happy around them. I was the one she couldn't handle."

Dagur's voice began rising in a way that was less angry and more passionate. "I destroyed my own family without even realizing it."

"You were a child. Taking responsibility for your actions is a great thing, but to say you are to blame for what happened to your mother is unfair to you."

"Who's fault was it then?"

"Why does it have to be anyone's?"

Several moments elapsed as Dagur considered his words. When he spoke again, his voice was lower and seemed about to crack.

"Dad always said it was mine."

With a low head, the young man felt his throat become sore. Quickly, he cleared it and tried to change his thoughts to something more pleasant. Farid noticed this and had warmth in his voice as he spoke.

"There's no shame in expressing pain. I've certainly done it plenty of times in my own life."

Dagur left out a mildly scornful laugh. "Force of habit. You don't know the people I've been around. If you do anything besides take whatever happens to you, you're 'dainty.' No complaining or being upset is allowed."

"That seems like they had issues they needed to work out and were unable to."

"Oh, they had problems alright. You hit that one right on the head, Doc." Dagur began getting irritated as memories went through his mind. "I mean, there's a difference between being dainty and not being a complete savage. So what if I chew with my mouth shut like a civilized person?" He put his hands over his ears and shut his eyes tightly. "It was like Dad never heard of table manners. I can't think of a single time when he even used something besides a fork or his hands. Not sure how Mom could stand going out to eat with him, but I'd be the one left behind because that's fair."

Dagur huffed and Farid tilted his head a bit in curiosity.

"Did your father say that you were dainty?"

"No," came the response. There was something in Dagur's voice which Farid could not quite interpret. "That was someone else. He said I was too expressive. I just wasn't boring like the people he was used to being around. Why not be animated when you talk? It's more fun like that. Certainly is more entertaining, but not everyone else feels that way. It didn't make me an engaging speaker. It just made me 'dainty.' Soon, everything did. When I drew, that was dainty. When I was upset because we couldn't find Ella, that was dainty. It seemed like it didn't matter who I was around. No matter who it was, everything I did was wrong.

"Have you ever taken a fruit bath?" Dagur asked suddenly.

The doctor shook his head. "I can't say that I have."

"You should try it sometime. They're calming which is why I suggested Dad try that after everything so that he could find some peace. I don't even think he heard me, but the other guy did."

"This guy, was he friends with Oswald?"

"Not friends, but he was around a lot. I couldn't get a moment without him. 'Dagur the Dainty,'" the inmate said, changing his voice to imitate the other man's. He clenched a hand into a fist. "Sometimes, I'd just be called 'Dainty' and he wouldn't even add my name onto it. Delicately small, that's part of the definition. I've never been delicate." A red tint went over his cheeks and he tightened his fist more. "Pretty is another part," he said through gritted teeth. "I'm not dainty."

Farid frowned at the information. He was going to dig deeper into his questioning, but the time was up for the visit.

"Tomorrow, I'd like to talk more about your dad if that's alright and why the other person was around so often."

Momentarily, Dagur looked unsure, then nodded. "Yeah, we can talk about that. There's really no point in keeping Dad's good reputation now, right?"

Farid did not answer before the door was opened and Gobber entered. Again, the psychologist noticed something was going on with the officer. After he brought Dagur back to solitary, Farid stopped him.

"Is everything alright, Gobber?"

The older man sighed. "It's as fine as it's going to be for now. You don't have to worry about me, though. I'll still be bringing the inmates."

"I didn't think you wouldn't, but if you need to talk also," Farid said, gesturing to the therapy room.

Gobber looked at it, then smiled softly. "Let's keep the focus on them for now, but I appreciate the offer."

Not pushing further, Farid nodded and returned to the room to wait for more inmates to be brought. They all went well this time. No one seemed noticeably upset. If anything, those who had been agitated seemed eerily fine all of a sudden. It got under Farid's skin like an itch in his blood. He needed to know what was going on, but he felt like he was getting nowhere. When he got home, he went through his notes and continued his research on the various inmates to be sure the best therapy was being provided. With surprise, the psychologist heard his phone ring.

"Hiccup, hello," Farid said, answering the phone.

"Hey, Farid. Sorry if I'm bothering you."

"You're not at all. My retinas might have burned out if I stared at my computer any longer. Is something wrong?"

"I wouldn't say it's wrong, but I have something I think you might be able to use to help with Dagur."

"What is it?" Farid asked, leaning forward in his seat.

"The name of the girl whose parents he killed is Heather. I'm not entirely sure if she'd be willing to talk with you, but I think it's worth a try. I actually know her personally, so I might be able to convince her. She might know something more than the records have shown."

"If you could get her to agree to that, I'd love to talk with her. Thanks for being willing to set that up."

"Of course, I-I've actually been thinking about this case a lot." Before Hiccup could talk himself into any potentially dangerous thoughts, he stopped. "I don't want to keep you, though, so I'll see if I can reach Heather and let you know how that goes."

The two said their goodbyes and Farid smiled as he looked at the notes. Maybe he would be getting somewhere after all. That night, he was not so stressed, but his feelings were not shared by those in Berk Prison. Dagur was in his cell, doing one-handed pushups. The light was on since it was not time for the inmates to go to sleep (and Gobber had been the last one in there). He had nearly forgotten how nice it was to be able to see everything. Sight made working out easier since he could stare at something and use it to help him balance. After having done a lot of pushups, Dagur began doing a handstand. He stopped when he heard the door open and got back to his feet. Two officers with messy beards entered.

"What have you told the shrink?" one asked.

"Doctor-patient privilege, fellas, sorry," he said with a smug smile.

The two glared at him and one went to unlock the door, but his partner stopped him.

"Ooh, scared of me?" Dagur asked, going closer to the door. "If you don't want to unlock the door, you can reach your hand through the bottom and see if you pull it back."

"Shut up!" the officer hissed. "You might think you're winning, but you're not. That doctor doesn't have any power in this facility. Don't forget who does."

"Guess it must've slipped my mind. What I do know is that it's not you, so maybe you can let me go back to enjoying the deafening silence."

"Why I–"

The other officer just shook his head. "You'd be wasting your time trying to threaten him."

He turned to the inmate and had a glare on his face. There was more certainty in his voice than his companion's when he spoke.

"No matter what you tell him about any of us here, you'll never be believed. It'll be a madman's word against all of ours. You're crazier than you seem if you really think that's going to count for anything."

Dagur began laughing, disturbing the pair. They turned to leave, but not without first calling him a lunatic. His laughter did not stop when they were gone. It was funny. The whole situation was. It was because he knew they were right. He could lay bare his soul and even if Farid believed him, what difference would it make? Maybe he did not want it to make a difference if it affected Gobber. Maybe he wanted it to because it would stop Alvin and his flunkies. Maybe it would not matter either way, but at the end of the day, they were respected individuals and he was just Dagur…the Deranged.