By the next morning, the Berk Prison was running as it usually did. That meant the warden had papers stacked to the ceiling he had to go through. Feeling unenthused, Stoick began going through notes given from the officers and from various politicians who pretended to be concerned with the state of things even though they really were just glad to have the criminals off the streets. The only interesting part was when he got to Farid's notes. They were not in-depth due to confidentiality, but they were still promising. Stoick's brows furrowed as he read notes about several of the inmates behaving strangely in some of the sessions. His eyebrows lifted when the door to his office opened. The warden was about to scold whoever had deemed himself not needing to knock when he saw who it was.

"Hey, Stoick," Alvin greeted, not looking particularly happy.

"Alvin, you should knock next time," Stoick said, glancing back at his papers.

The correctional officer pretended to be offended. "You hurt me. I wanted to talk with you about something."

"What's the matter?"

"Farid," came the quick response.

Stoick frowned and set the papers aside. "Can you elaborate on that? No one else has had any complaints about him. Gobber seems to think he's doing a good job."

"Well, Gobber and I rarely see eye to eye." Alvin plopped down in a chair and put his ankle over his knee. "The doc thinks he can do whatever he wants. He can't."

"What is he trying to do?"

"One of the guys said he saw him trying to talk with an inmate still in his cell."

"Do you have proof of that?" Alvin got quiet and Stoick sighed. "Alvin, that's just a rumor with nothing to back it up. Even still, I'd hardly consider a psychologist trying to talk with his clients as the most heinous action he could be committing."

With every fiber of his being, the officer tried to keep a scowl off his face and mostly succeeded. "I don't like that he's talkin' to Dagur."

"I know. It's for the best, though. He seems to be making progress."

"Progress towards what? Dagur's a lost cause."

"Maybe we aren't the best ones to determine that."

Alvin scoffed and leaned back. "Don't tell me you're goin' soft on me, Stoick."

The warden's features hardened. "I am not going soft. I am doing what I agreed to do when I became warden–looking out for the best interests of Berk and the inmates."

"Isn't that having Farid talk to those who aren't going to be here forever?"

"Why does it matter so much? I heard about you stalling Dagur's sessions and interrupting them."

"That little–" Alvin said under his breath before stopping himself. "I'm just looking out for ya like I always have."

"Funny. I remember it being more the other way around."

Again, Alvin pretended to look hurt, but it seemed more mocking this time than playful to the warden. Stoick slid the papers back over to him and put them on his lap.

"Until I see a reason the therapy shouldn't continue, it will. One hour a day isn't going to hurt anyone and that includes you." The man gestured to the door. "Do you mind?"

Alvin bit his tongue and got up from sitting. "'Course not. Happy reading."

He stormed out of the office and slammed the door behind him. Stoick sighed heavily and brought a hand up to his temple. Some days, it was just a lot having to deal with Alvin and the inmates. Individually, either could be a handful, but together was just overwhelming at times.

As Alvin returned to his duties, he sent a hateful glare at the therapy session room. It was currently in use and he knew which prisoner was in there. He wanted to barge through the door and drag the inmate back by the hair to his cell to rot forever, but he used restraint instead of his restraints. Grumbling, he went about his business. Inside that room, Farid was just starting his session with Dagur. With a calm expression, he began his questions.

"Between the time when you used to visit with Hiccup and when you saw him in high school, what was your life like?"

An unreadable look crossed the inmate's face. "It was rough. That's when Dad really started getting worse with the drugs. You basically know everything about him during that time, though."

"Then, could we talk about the person who used to sell Oswald the drugs? I don't know much about him yet."

Dagur visibly tensed, but he nodded. "Sure, why not. What do you want to know?"

"It sounded like he picked on you. Would I be right in thinking that?"

The inmate frowned. "Yeah, he was a jerk."

"When did it begin?"

Trying to remember, the other man tilted his head, then snapped his fingers. "I had done some drawings of these bats I saw hanging from a small cave one day when I was out. I thought it looked just like them (it did too,) so I wanted to show Dad. Figured that would give him something to be interested in. He was so dead inside. The other guy was there when I got back home, but I didn't let that stop me. I think they were in the middle of a sale. Dad was dismissive of the art and the other guy–Abominable, that's what he went by–snatched it from me to get a look." Dagur's face turned as red as his hair. "He said it was dainty to draw. I mean, what kind of uncultured, neanderthal believes that?! What's next? Monet and Rembrandt are weak too?"

"Did you do anything after he said that?"

"Yeah, I told him to take it back," Dagur said boldly, clenching a fist.

"Did he?"

A scornful laugh came out of the inmate. "Yeah," he said sarcastically. "Because an angry eight year old is really intimidating. Not at all. He got in my face and told me to make him, so I tried." Dagur stood up and pushed the air. "I tried to shove him away, but he was sturdy. He was tall and strong as an ox. Ripped the paper into pieces, then put me in a choke hold until I almost blacked out."

Farid frowned at this. "What was Oswald's response?"

Dagur glanced at him blandly. "He didn't have one. He just went to his room to probably take whatever he'd just bought. That's when it all started. Abominable saw that he didn't care, so he did what he wanted. He started coming over more after that. Sometimes, he wouldn't even have anything to sell."

The psychologist's frown deepened. "He would come all that way just to pick on you?"

"You'd be surprised by how much joy he got out of our time together," he said grimly. "It was the same type of thing for the most part for a while. He'd come by and act like he had something to sell Dad or some important information. Then, he'd start looking for me. He used to take my stuff all the time. Half of the stuff he took were things I didn't even like that much, but it was the principle. They were mine, so I'd fight to keep them."

"What would he take?"

"Tools, books–as if he could even read–and knives. Really used to piss me off with the knives. I loved those, so he got extra joy out of taking them. He'd make sure to test out their sharpness on me first. Every once in a while, he'd take clothes too. Really, he'd take anything he thought was interesting or was something I might miss."

"And you fought him every time?"

"I tried to. It gave me good practice for fighting, but I'd lose pretty badly," Dagur said sheepishly.

"Was he a teenager? I'm trying to see if maybe it was acting out due to problems in his own home."

Shaking his head, the prisoner sat back down. "No, he was in his early twenties or so around that time."

"Early twenties?" Farid asked, concern in his voice. "And Oswald never intervened?"

"That would involve actually caring, Doc. Can't do that."

For a moment, Farid did not know what to say, then he gathered his thoughts. "How often would he come by? Roughly."

Dagur rubbed his scraggly beard. "I don't know. Sometimes, it would be a few times a week. Sometimes, he'd be there every day. Just depended on his mood." Anger washed over his face. "He even had the nerve to come on the anniversary of Ella's disappearance once."

"Do you think he knew?"

"He knew. Dad wasn't good at keeping his secrets when he was high. He wasn't good at anything during those times. He got so upset at her being gone that he threw her little toy shield out, saying it was just a bad reminder. I liked having a reminder of her. Made it seem less like she was forgotten."

"Did you mention that to him?"

"No, he probably wouldn't have listened if I did. I just went and got it out of the trash." Just as anger had consumed his expression, sadness came in the same manner. "Dad saw me and asked how I could even dare to touch her things after losing her."

There was a pause as the young man felt a lump in his throat. He swallowed it down and continued.

"I didn't care what he said. I just took it and went to the woods. After it got late, Abominable showed up. I-I guess I was a bit weepy at the time. He said only dainty people cry."

"I don't think it's shameful to cry over a lost loved one."

"Well, he'd disagree with you. He tried to take the shield, but I wouldn't let him have it. I tried tackling him and actually was able to. I think it surprised us both. He didn't stay shocked for long, though. I was punching him in the stomach and we rolled around on the grass for a little while. It stopped when he got on top and was able to pin my arms down. He was still a lot stronger back then. His punches did a lot more damage than mine did. No matter how much strength I used, I couldn't beat him. He said it was cute when I struggled." The inmate sighed. "So that was a nice night as you can tell."

"How many years was it until he got arrested?"

"Too many. Specifically, I think about five. It was right before I went to high school."

"You mentioned that you used to get bored in school before Hiccup enrolled."

"Who couldn't? You spend all day quietly listening to people jabber on and on. It's enough to drive anyone insane. Doesn't help when you're already there," he said, laughing.

"You also mentioned knowing that seeming dangerous is a good way to not get bothered. Did you mean in reference to Abominable or someone from the school?"

There was a pause. "School. It never worked against Abominable, but some of the seniors tried to see what they could get away with when I first got there."

"What did they try? Was it name-calling or something else?"

"A bit of both. They thought I was weird and called me crazy when they heard me laughing." Dagur grumbled, "They were just bitter because they had boring laughs. Anyway, though, I was kind of used to that, but I wasn't about to get attacked. They were like Abominable and thought I would be an easy target." A quiet chuckle started to build until it was a normal laugh…for him anyway. "You should have seen their faces, Doc! After PE one day, they figured they'd shove me in the lockers. Unfortunately for them, I'd had so much practice fighting people thrice their size that they were nothing. I broke three of their noses and gave them all double black eyes. I would've done worse, but the gym teacher heard the sounds of them crying and came in. Ruined all my fun."

"Did anyone try to bother you after that?"

"Nope," Dagur said proudly. "Word got out–those little snitches. Hurt them more than me, though. After everyone heard about the locker fight, I wasn't 'Dagur the Weirdo' anymore and I definitely wasn't 'Dagur the Dainty.' I was 'Deranged' and I liked being that. It made people think twice about trying me. It made them respect me."

"Did they respect you or was it fear?"

"Both?" he offered, shrugging. "I don't know. I didn't care. Whatever made them leave me alone worked. It was clear I wasn't going to have any buddies. Could tell that as soon as I got there. Everyone acted like there was something terribly wrong with me. If they weren't going to like me, I was fine with them fearing me."

A knock came on the door, alerting Farid to it being time for the session to end. He had gotten so engrossed in what he was hearing that he had lost track of the minutes. When Gobber entered, he smiled at the two before putting the handcuffs back on Dagur and leading him out. Farid walked out the room for a moment and when the correctional officer returned, he approached him.

"This evening, would you be available for that visit?" Farid asked.

Gobber nodded. "Yeah, I won't be doing anything. I normally get there at 7:30, so I'd be fine meeting with you at 8."

"Great."

The officer went to get the next client and the sessions seemed to go by quickly. When night came, Farid went to the address on the piece of paper and arrived at a humble home. He knocked on the door and it was opened by Gobber. He led him in and the psychologist saw a chubby bulldog.

"Come say hi, Grumpy," Gobber encouraged.

Lazily, the dog just opened his eyes and then went back to sleep. The officer shook his head in amusement.

"Good thing I don't need a guard dog. Let's sit down. I've been standing all day."

Gobber went over to a soda and sat down. Farid did the same and got a curious look in his eyes.

"How would you describe Dagur when he was a kid?"

The older man chuckled. "Bizarre. He used to scare the life out of poor Hiccup when he was little. I don't think it was intentional, but it always happened. He just seemed like such an odd kid. At first, I thought he just didn't know his own strength which wouldn't be that uncommon. Then, I wondered if he just didn't have discipline which made him act oddly. Finally, I just realized he wasn't all there."

"When did that happen?"

"It was mostly an accumulation of what I had seen from him. If I had to pinpoint one moment I knew, it would probably be when he and his dad came by to visit and he was supposed to be playing with Hiccup. They were still in our eyesight–Stoick wasn't going to allow them not to be after a certain tumbling incident. Did you hear about that?"

"I did."

"Ah, okay then. I won't go into that. This time, we were all there. Stoick and Oswald were talking, but I kept noticing this sound. Dagur was in the middle of destroying a tree. It had a thick trunk and he just had a knife, but I guess he had been spending most of the visit stabbing it. We didn't even notice since Hiccup had stayed by us, so we weren't worried if he was alright or not. I went over to stop him, but he didn't seem to hear me. He just kept slicing it like it had started a fight with him. I finally got his attention and he had a look in his eyes I'd never seen in anyone before. It wasn't quite rage, but it was…insanity for a lack of a better word. Frankly, it disturbed me."

"What did you do?"

"Calmly asked him to put away the knife. He seemed upset about that, but I explained that we wanted the tree where it was and I think he got it after that. As soon as he put the blades up, he seemed normal. It was a split second change like nothing had happened. I've been around moody people, but that was my first time seeing someone do a complete 180 in such a short amount of time like that. I told Oswald that he should try to get him help. He was always complaining about Dagur being dangerous."

"Did you think he was?"

Gobber hesitated with his response. "That's a difficult question to answer. I didn't think he was dangerous, but I knew he could be if that makes sense."

"It does. What did Oswald say when you suggested therapy?"

"He was pretty uninterested in the idea. Mentioned it being bad for his PR if he had a kid in a mental institute. I didn't like that, but he wasn't my kid, so it was up to Oswald." Gobber paused as he began to frown. "Sometimes, I wished Oswald would just have put him up for adoption. Maybe he would've found someone who could have handled him better. It's not that I think it'd be easy to have a son like him, but it wouldn't have hurt to put in a bit more effort."

"Did you ever see more evidence that effort wasn't put in?"

Opening his mouth to speak, the officer closed it and pursed his lips. "There were different things from time to time. The way I see it, parents should protect their kids. I didn't see that from Oswald. Of course, I wasn't there all the time, but it's just my perception of it."

Farid could tell that there was more behind his pause than just that. "Have you ever heard about someone called Abominable?"

Gobber's eyes widened slightly, giving Farid his answer. Before he could ask a follow-up question, the blond spoke.

"You'll have to ask Dagur about him."

"I did, but I feel like there's more that he's not saying. It's not normal that an adult would take such an interest in a child who's not theirs. The fact that the attention was all negative only concerns me more."

"Mm, well, that's just going to have to be something you speak with him about. It's not got anything to do with someone being in danger now or why he's in jail, so it's not my place to say."

"He went to you for help, didn't he?"

"My answer is final, Farid," Gobber said, looking unmoving.

"Alright," the doctor relented. "Then, I have one more question before leaving if you don't mind."

"That'll depend on the question but go ahead."

"I think this one will be fine. Do you think he killed Oswald?"

Gobber sighed. "I don't know. I really don't. Part of me hopes not, but there isn't much proof to support that he didn't."

"There isn't much to support that he did either."

"It was his knife with Oswald's blood."

"But no body was found."

"But he couldn't just have disappeared into thin air. If Dagur didn't kill his father, I have no idea what happened. To be honest, I have no idea about what happened on that day with any of the killings, alleged or otherwise."

"That's exactly what I plan to figure out." Farid stood up and shook the man's hand. "Thanks for seeing me."

"No problem. And, Doctor," Gobber called as Farid opened the door to leave, "good luck."