Author's note: Hey guys, I know it's been awhile since I've posted anything, sorry about that. I was way too busy to write, but now I have some free time and I want to crank this baby out this summer. Special thanks goes out to Pdantzler2 for being my beta. :) Enjoy!

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Tim was bleary-eyed on the morning of the court trial. He and Bruce had been up all night creating and memorizing a system of subtle codes they could use on the supervised visits they would have while Tim was in the Bludhaven Juvenile Detention Center.

Tim hadn't yet been sentenced to serve time, but Bruce and his lawyers were 99 percent sure he would be. Tim was charged with "disturbing the peace," "resisting arrest," and "violence against an officer of the law." At the time, he was just trying to do what was best for the situation stopping some thugs from causing trouble, covering for Kon, who had run from the officer, and covering for himself by physically immobilizing Officer Kevin Miller of the Gotham PD to keep him from discovering his hidden costume and weapons. Apparently, these things didn't look too good to the police, and Tim Drake was being made "an example of." Being the ward of Bruce Wayne didn't help at all; in fact Bruce's lawyers were sure it would mean harsher sentence than usual.

When Tim first heard what would most likely be the consequences of his actions, he was shocked. Batman had already punished Robin for his mistakes! But soon he realized his luck. He would be able to get an up close and personal look at the criminals in training at the Bludhaven Juvenile Detention Center. Why did they stay in so long? How come so many young Biagios and their cousins were placed in that particular center? The youths came out "model citizens" and were suspiciously far away from any crimes the companies they worked for committed.

Tim had been pondering his predicament in every spare moment of time when he wasn't getting coached on how to come off as a teenage miscreant by Bruce or being told how to fake injuries by Alfred. He was expected to play the role of a misguided teen in court too, with evidence being pointed at his late parents' deaths. Bruce was going to say how hard the adjustment had been for the kid, how he was trying all he could to straighten the boy up. Maybe he just wasn't that strict (yeah right, Tim snorted into his hand when Bruce had tried this acting bit out over dinner and received a stern look that was belied by smiling eyes)? Maybe someone else ought to take over? And bingo, Tim would be wrenched out of court and into a van, off to some school-like detention center that emphasized "old-fashioned" punishments and rules for its wayward charges.

Tim sat in the backseat of the limo, twiddling his thumbs next to Bruce, who was talking quickly and loudly to his lawyers. Tim had managed to sport a few cuts on his face and even a pretty good shiner, thanks to the scraps of a few nights ago. He wore a sweater vest, collard shirt, nice slacks and shoes, but rolled his sleeves up lazily and mussed up his hair. It was supposed to say,

"I was forced to wear these clothes, but I cannot hide my delinquent ways from anyone."

The teen fidgeted a bit; even with all his training and preparation he was still a little worried, somewhere deep inside. He wished Bruce would get off the phone so he could have a few last minutes of peace, before he was sure what would be a turbulent next few hours. As if the man could read his thoughts, Bruce did. His guardian even laid a comforting hand on his shoulder,

"Don't worry Tim. You'll be fine. I'll be watching."

Tim smiled, "But you don't have to watch too closely."

"I know, son."

"Master Bruce, we have arrived." Alfred chimed in.

It was true – they had arrived outside the court house, and a throng of reporters, cameramen, and paparazzi were there to greet them.

"Ready, Tim?" Bruce slung his black leather case over his shoulder and offered his hand to Tim.

"Ready, Bruce." Tim grabbed the larger hand and squeezed. Bruce nodded and then turned to get out of the car; Alfred was outside, reaching for the handle. The large hand that had been grasping his smaller hand let go and then painfully grabbed his upper arm. Tim felt himself yanked out of the car, and he immediately began to play the role of the reluctant teenage delinquent. Bruce yanked him through the chaotic mass of people, and they avoided answering any questions. Tim had tried not to, but he couldn't help overhearing some of the questions shouted at him,

"Has all that money from your new daddy made you want more? Is that why you're acting up?"

"Tim, was it Jack Drake's bad influence that caused you to commit these crimes?"

"Did you think you would be above the law because of your guardians' standing in society?"

"Mr. Drake! Mr. Drake! What would the late Mr. and Mrs. Drake think of your behavior if they were here now?"

Tim felt anger well up in him. Well, certainly his actions hadn't been that bad! Damn media distortion. And why all this talk about his parents? It was disrespectful to bring up the dead in such a way! Jerks. He decided to channel his anger though, use it to reinforce his acting. He gritted his teeth and scowled and even made to kick at one of the reporters. Bruce noticed and tightened his hold on Tim and yanked. It was enough pain to bring tears to the boy's eyes, and Tim let the tears linger there and blur his vision. It was all so surreal, this moment. He was glad he was faking it, he would hate to see the look on his late parent's faces if they thought he had become trouble.

The trial, for all the media attention, actually wasn't very long. Tim, in character, reluctantly pleaded guilty, Bruce's lawyers brought up their bargain, and the judge reviewed the bargain and with an approving smile accepted it,

"I'm glad you have chosen the Bludhaven Juvenile Detention Center. They have proven methods and great results."

The center had already been contacted by Bruce's lawyers, and they were ready to accept Tim today.

"Excellent. So that takes care of that..." The judge said with a satisfied grin and a bang of his gavel, "Next!"

Tim had expected to be there longer, so he was taken by surprise when his upper arm was grasped by the bailiff, and he was pulled away from Bruce and his lawyers. He looked back towards Bruce, his eyes wide and pleading for a second, but then remembered the role he was playing and tried, unsuccessfully, to shrug the guard off.

"I can walk by myself!" Tim huffed.

"Kid, you don't want to mess with me," the bailiff growled back at him. The man was tall, at least 6'3", and with a wide, muscular frame. He had brawn but he was probably pretty slow, Tim assessed. But of course his alter ego wouldn't notice these things. So Tim just frowned and let himself be pulled along.

He was soon bodily pushed into a gray van with the words, "Bludhaven Juvenile Detention Center" spelled out in cursive along its side. He looked around and noticed that the bag Alfred had packed for him wasn't there waiting for him.

"Hey, dude, where's all my stuff?" Tim barked at the driver.

"Ha!" the balding man laughed, "like we're dumb enough to let you kids take your own clothes with whatever weapons hidden in them to the Center. Yeah right. After your strip search, you'll get a regulation uniform to wear."

A strip search? Wow, these guys were serious. Tim supposed he'd have to find his own ways to make weapons and take notes while in the Center, but he was resourceful and could probably handle it.

Tim leaned back against the hard plastic of the bench seat and gazed out at the city as it flew by. So much had happened in the past few days. There would be no hanging out with Kon, no Justice League meetings with Batman, no late night web surfing, no casual and ultimately disappointing dates with girls he would have to constantly bail on. Well, maybe there was some benefit to getting away for a bit.

The van bumped on down the road, and Tim's stomach churned in anticipation for what was to come.