~Everybody's got somebody,

I just want to be alone~

The terror of being arrested couldn't cut through Niall Horan's buzz that night. He sat, chatting with the cops in the car, not really coming to terms with what was going on or what it meant. Niall really was a different person when he was drunk. Tonight, that was not a good thing. Because while he was physically cooperative, allowing himself to be handcuffed and stuffed in an interrogation room, he was not mentally cooperating with the detectives.

"You are Niall Horan, correct?" The tall man in the rumpled grey suit said. His luscious brown hair caught the light in a way that distracted Niall's eyes. The detective had to snap in his face and repeat the question once more before he got an answer.

"I don't know."

"Sir, his blood alcohol level is very high." The junior detective in the room piped up, and then cowered back with a glare from his superior, who wasn't happy to hear the news. He hadn't been on the scene when Niall was arrested, but he was in charge of questioning Niall and finding the answers for the breakout of Connor Rodes.

"Niall. Horan." He grit out the name. "Is that you?"

"What does my identification say?" Niall's neck was a floppy noodle for his head, which swung around the room - more like if he was on crack than on tequila and lime.

"That's him, sir," The junior detective spoke once again, but no glare followed it. He was looking at Niall's ID - the picture on which showed a carbon copy match of the man sitting in front of them.

"We might as well throw him in a holding cell until he sobers up." The detective sighed. "We're not getting any answers out of him like this."

"I'll answer all your questions!" Niall raised his arm in the air. "Call on me and I'll answer them."

The junior detective was amused, while his boss wasn't. But they needed answers, so he tried to go along with it. "You are a therapist correct? Umm, Niall."

"Only in the place of my boss, who had a psychotic break," A wide smile graced his face, and his arm was still up in the arm.

"So, you're not a licensed therapist? Niall." The junior detective furiously scribbled down notes while the senior detective leaned in, interested in whatever scandal they were on the edge of.

"Nope," He let it drag on before continuing. "I'm an intern. The warden didn't want to replace my boss, so he hired me!" The cheery tone in his voice suggested that he still knew that nothing was wrong. Niall had definitely reached the point of being blackout drunk. He would not remember anything until he woke up his cell, many hours later.

"One of your patients was Connor Rodes, correct? Niall."

"Yep. Now he's gone."

"Where did he go, Niall?"

"What are you, a cop? Buzz off."

The junior detective jumped in with a clever lie, since he was the one who had actually read the file. "The doctor at the hospital found out what's wrong with his leg! There's a tumor pressing on his spine! He'll die if we don't locate him, Niall."

"He's not innocent?" The shock seemed to register for the first time, and his arm went down. "Oh my god, what have I done?" He burst into tears. "Don't call my family. Please don't call them." And then he promptly passed out.

---

It didn't take long for the story to hit the news, and then Greg was at the police station, ready to tear Niall apart. There was always something wrong with him. If he would just slow down! By the time he arrived, Niall was sober and had talked to a lawyer. All of the information was out of him, and he knew where he stood in the face of the law. There was no use pleading not guilty when the evidence said otherwise.

The cameras. Niall had not once thought about the cameras.

Or how obvious it looked. Connor had an appointment with him right before he went missing. Niall's key was swiped to get out of the doors where the inmate was last scene. But that was all in the past, and now it was time for Niall to pay for his crimes.

And he knew that jail was going to either toughen him up, or kill him. At this point, either was appreciated because this was definitely a low point in his life. But at least they weren't going to be sending him to the same prison that he worked at. That would be a bad idea.

"Niall!" He heard Greg screaming from down the hallway. He sighed and buried his arm in his hands. The whole world was going to hear the wrath of his brother - especially these guards. Who were already manhandling him and handcuffing him too tightly. Niall was pretty sure he could sue the justice system for those kinds of things, but he was still at the point where he thought he deserved all of this, so he was letting it slide.

When Greg entered the room, the anger was evident in his body. "I said something bad would happen! If you would just slow down! You didn't need to take the job! You're underqualified! And now you'll never get a job that isn't in fast food. Because you're going to prison! That's serious, Niall!"

"I'll just find a new career path," He said softly. That was not the right thing to say. Greg launched into another tirade. About all of his fears and hopes for Niall. His whole life was now in the toilet.

"How can you act like you don't care? Why are you so nonchalant? You always shut your emotions off, but they're what make you, you, Niall!"

"Sir, we're going to have to ask you to leave," One of the detectives said from the hallway. "We're taking Mr. Horan to the county jail until his trial."

Greg stood there panting, looking out at his younger brother. Their eyes met, and the older one could see the fear in the younger one's eyes. "Bye, Greg," He said simply. "Kiss Theo for me."