~I'll drink 'til it's empty,

Stay out 'til it's late,

I'll wake up at midday and marry my bed,

I'll kiss all the women,

Get punched in the head~

It had taken Niall a full day to work up the courage to talk to the warden about the possibility of new tests for Connor. After planning everything out and choosing his words carefully, the loud-spoken man agreed to letting two guards go with him to the hospital. Convincing him to let Niall go on the journey was a bit more tricky.

The intern turned therapist wanted the opportunity to get to know Connor and his situation better. To bond with him, and to see the test results and doctor himself. It was probably overkill, but Niall didn't have anyone telling him he couldn't do that. Even the warden was into the plan after the ideas were explained.

One of the doctors in the facility helped Connor into the car before leaving him in the hands of Niall and the two prison guards, one of whom was driving. The other wasn't too worried about the inmate escaping, as his leg was paralyzed and the man had never tried anything before on any of the hospital trips.

"Dr. Domi did not send you for new tests when the paralysis began ascending?" Niall asked, looking down at the file. He had been poring over it for days. He knew the answer.

"No." There were some insults about the other therapist in there, but Niall glazed over those.

"Do you have any family?"

"What does that have to do with my leg?" Connor was crossing his arms, not happy with the brunette sitting next to him.

Niall set the file down. "I'm just curious. I'm supposed to be helping you. Figure I should know a little bit about you."

Connor waited a moment before answering, his arms still crossed and tense. "A sister. Evelyn. She's seventeen now. I raised her."

The typical background of a criminal. "Does she come and visit you?"

"Every week." He said, looking straight at the headrest of the passenger seat. Talking about his sister had him speaking the most words, other when he was claiming his innocence. "She believes me. That I'm innocent. Once she graduates, she'll go to law school and sort this mess out. I just hope it don't take that long."

"Why did the prosecution claim you were guilty?" The case file had limited information about the actual charges he was brought up on, but Niall knew that it was a double homicide.

Connor's anger levels visibly went up, but not to a severe extent as they had before. "They say I was the only one around that day. And that I did it for gang initiation." Niall clucked and made a note in the file about that. "Why would I join a gang? I had a job, working at that hotel. That was full of people! Any one of them could have killed those two guys!"

"I understand your anger. But I am not someone who can decide whether you are guilty or not," Niall said, trying to believe what he was saying. He desperately wanted to find out every detail and then put the man in either category, but he was a therapist. This man had already been diagnosed, and now Niall had to rehabilitate him. Or at least get him to understand. But from his point of view, that went hand in hand with whether he was really guilty or not. At this point, he was either innocent or crazy dedication, if he had been claiming the same thing for six months.

Ugh, being in charge of people's brains was confusing.

Arriving at the hospital, the people in the emergency room gawked. The warden had made the calls to get an appointment set up to get blood tests and an MRI for the leg, and it was all done in record time. I guess when the state is paying, things get done faster.

Then it was time to talk to the doctor, who tested leg functions while they talked. "Are you in pain?" The man asked, hitting the knee with a hammer. It didn't even budge.

"Pain? I can't feel my leg." Connor complained, although on a step down from the anger ledge he usually talked to people on.

"Do you need pain meds?"

"I'll pass. Unless you can tell me what's causing this, doc." Arms crossed, he sat, crutches close by. Niall sat in the corner, and the guards were in the hallway.

As expected, it wasn't good news for Connor.

"The scan and blood tests are the exact same as six months ago, Connor. There's nothing physically wrong with your leg." Connor began cursing and screaming at him. "Nothing else is wrong with you physically, which means, no underlying condition!"

After Connor had calmed himself down, the doc took me out into the hallway. "You've read his file and know about conversion disorder, correct?"

"Of course. I just don't know what to do to get him to believe."

The doctor leaned against the wall with the files. "People with conversion disorder don't want to believe. Connor especially. He needs serious help. If he wasn't in prison, I'd recommend a stay in the psychiatric ward to try and get him sorted out. The two are basically one and the same, but have different focuses."

"What angle should I take with him? To try and help with the paralysis."

"The best way to go about it is to try and help him cope with the trauma." The doctor walked off shortly after saying that statement, leaving Niall to go slightly crazy. If, on the slim chance this man was innocent, then why was his leg paralyzed?

After Connor was returned to the prison, Niall left work for the day and went to Wal-Mart to pick up his check. Then it was straight to the bank to put that bad boy in the savings fund. Niall couldn't remember ever once checking the balance on it, so it was going to be a great surprise when he saw how much was there. Unless it was like $500. That would suck.

While he was in the line at the bank, Greg called, asking if Niall would go for drinks with him. After all, he was now legal. "Come on, Niall! Please!"

"Greg, your wife is due in three weeks. Go spend time with her!"

"Just one beer!"

"Bye, Greg," Niall hung up and smiled. He was glad to hear a friendly voice, even if Greg only wanted alcohol.