Disclaimer: All recognisable characters belong to Pixar. All OCs belong to me.

Chapter 2 – In Custody

About half an hour later, I found myself inside an interview room at the police station. A Dodge Charger, a different officer to the ones who'd caught me, was parked behind the desk, typing away on his computer. One of the parking boots had been removed from my rear wheels to enable me to move around slowly. Now that the adrenalin had left my system, my fever had flared up again. However, I tried my best not to show any signs of being sick. It wasn't easy though. All I wanted to do now was sleep for a week.

The officer finally turned his attention to me. "Are you ready to talk, kid?"

I nodded slightly.

"Okay. My name is Constable Carlin."

At that moment, there was a soft knock on the door. A white Camry peeked into the room. "You sent for me, Constable?"

"Yes, come in, please."

The Camry entered the room and, after closing the door behind himself, he parked alongside me. "Mr Axle," he said, introducing himself to me. "I've been assigned to you as your Legal Aid lawyer."

I just stared at the desk in front of me, not bothering to even acknowledge his presence.

Constable Carlin looked at me again. "Okay, kid. I need you to tell me your full name, address and VIN number."

I sighed tiredly before I replied. "Montgomery Alexander McQueen. I don't have an address, and I don't know my VIN number."

"That's okay. If you let me look in your engine bay, I'll be able to find it."

I hesitated. I knew that once the police had my VIN number, they'd be able to find out everything about me. However, if I didn't let them obtain it willingly, they'd probably find some way of forcing me to reveal it. Reluctantly, I nodded again.

"Does that nod mean that you're granting me consent to obtain your VIN number from under your hood?" Constable Carlin asked.

"Yes." With a heavy sigh of defeat, I popped my hood. Constable Carlin approached me, and he gently lifted my hood with his claw arm. It didn't take him long to locate my VIN number, stamped inside my engine bay.

"1G9CC4171JC000001," Constable Carlin read aloud. The computer beeped, acknowledging that my VIN number had registered. Constable Carlin gently closed my hood. He gave me a long hard stare. "So, you're a crossbred," he finally said. "It makes sense. I couldn't figure out your model."

"I never knew my parents," I told him with an air of bitterness. "I have no idea what models they are. I don't even know what their names are, or if they're even still alive."

Constable Carlin nodded thoughtfully before he parked behind his desk again. After a couple of clicks on the computer, he brought up my file. "Right, Montgomery. It seems that your foster parents have reported you missing to the Child Protection Services. I'll call them shortly to let them know that you're safe."

"Don't bother. I ran away, and I'm not going back."

Constable Carlin raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Oh? Why did you run away?"

"My foster father beat me up about a week ago," I admitted tiredly. I just wanted this interrogation to end so I could finally get some sleep. "I knew that nobody would care, so I just left. I am never going back there, and you can't make me."

"That's not up to you to decide," Constable Carlin told me firmly. "We can investigate your claims of physical abuse, but if you're not telling the truth, you'll go back there if the CPS orders it. That's out of my control, I'm afraid. Now, you're facing some pretty serious charges after what happened tonight. I'm going to question you about them now. Legally, you are not obligated to answer any of my questions, but I must warn you that anything you do say may be held in evidence against you. Do you understand that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. When did you run away from your foster carers?"

"About four days ago."

Constable Carlin typed my answer into the computer. "Why did you trespass into the railroad yard?"

I shrugged. "For kicks."

"Is that the same reason why you defaced at least one locomotive?"

"Maybe."

"So, you admit that you trespassed onto government property and defaced a locomotive?"

"Yeah."

"You do realise what you're saying, don't you?"

"Of course. I got caught, and I don't deny that I did what I'm charged with."

"Why did you resist arrest if you knew that what you were doing was a crime?"

I shrugged again. "I didn't wanna get caught. But you guys got me, so let's just get this over with. I might be a criminal, but I'm not a liar."

"You're not a criminal unless you're convicted," Mr Axle pointed out. "Right now, you're just a foster kid who's spent a few nights living on the streets."

"Is there anything else you did while you were out on the streets that we don't know about?" Constable Carlin asked me.

"No comment."

Constable Carlin finished typing my answers into the computer. "All right. This is what's going to happen. I'm going to have you placed in a cell for the night, for your own safety, since you're a minor. Tomorrow morning, I'll get in contact with CPS and we'll go from there. What happens to your charges will depend on what CPS decides to do with you. Since this is your first serious offence, I'm sure they'll be lenient with you. Just be prepared to spend some time in juvenile detention or carry out community service."

I was about to roll my eyes when a violent shiver overcame me. It didn't escape Constable Carlin or Mr Axle's notice.

"Are you feeling all right, Montgomery?" Mr Axle asked me anxiously.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I replied, trying to sound more alert than I felt. "Just tired, that's all."

"Well, if you're sure…" Constable Carlin didn't look convinced. However, he didn't press the issue. "Please, come with me."

Constable Carlin escorted me out of the interview room, and down a long, narrow hallway to the cells. He opened an empty cell, gesturing for me to drive inside. As I hobbled through the doorway, Constable Carlin touched my side, silently telling me to stop. I felt him remove the remaining parking boot from my right rear wheel. He gave me a gentle push into the cell before he spoke again.

"I'll go and get the police surgeon to check you out anyway, just to be sure. You seem feverish to me." And with that, he closed the heavy cell door. I heard the key jangle in the lock, followed by an ominous silence.

With a pained whimper, I retreated to the far side of the cell, where I settled down to sleep. Since I was so small, the cell seemed huge. It was only just big enough for a large truck to park inside. There was only one small, barred window in the cell to provide natural light, but it was well out of my reach. I shivered as my fever flared once again. I knew that I was getting worse. I could even taste the pungent flavour of the infection in my throat now. But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered to me anymore, except sleep. I closed my weary eyes, and within seconds, I'd drifted off into a deep sleep.

…

When I awoke, it was late the following morning. The first thing I saw was a white forklift parked in front of me.

"Well, it's about time you woke up, kid," the forklift said. "I've been with you for most of last night and this morning."

"Why?" I asked, confused. Looking around, I realised that I was no longer in the horrible police cell. Instead, I was in a room that looked like a small doctor's surgery.

"You've had an infectious fever, caused by a couple of untreated cuts. I've cleaned them up, applied dressings and loaded you up with antibiotics. You should start feeling better by the end of the day."

I continued looking around, confused and feverish. I could feel something sharp sticking into an oil line inside my left wheel well. Realising that it was an I.V. line, my breathing rate increased as I started to panic. I started my engine and I tried to move. When I couldn't, I realised that all four of my wheels were securely clamped to a hydraulic lift.

"Why am I clamped?" I demanded to know. "Let me go!"

"Whoa there, kid! Calm down! You're not going anywhere in a hurry. You're still in police custody."

Upon hearing that, I stopped fighting against my restraints. The events of the night before came flooding back to me and I started to calm down. I closed my eyes and I let out a pained groan.

Someone knocked on the door. "Come in!" the forklift called.

I opened my eyes in time to see Constable Carlin drive into the room. "Hi, Doctor Hans. How's your patient doing now?"

"He's just woken up and had a panic attack."

"A panic attack? Don't you think you'd better sedate him?"

"Nah," Dr Hans replied. "He's too sick to do anything crazy right now. Even if he does try to escape, he won't get very far. He'll just wear himself out."

"Very well then. I'll trust your professional judgement." Constable Carlin drove over to me. "You're to come with me now, Montgomery. The magistrate will hear your case shortly."

"The magistrate?" I repeated nervously.

"Yes. You admitted to the crimes you were charged for last night, so the magistrate has to decide if your case will go to court. This is just a preliminary hearing, so don't stress. Your social worker from CPS is here to represent you."

Dr Hans came around to my left-hand side, and he slowly removed the IV needle. I closed my eyes and hissed as I felt it slowly being removed from my sensitive oil line. A few drops of oil bled out from the hole before Dr Hans sealed it with a tiny rubber patch.

"There you go, kid," he soothed. Dr Hans turned to Constable Carlin. "Make sure he keeps drinking for now. I'll finish writing up his medical report for the magistrate. He should see either myself or another doctor again tonight, depending on what happens to him in there."

Constable Carlin nodded. He secured a parking boot around my front right tyre before Dr Hans released the clamps from my wheels. Neither of them gave me any chance to escape.

A few minutes later, Constable Carlin directed me to park inside a small room near one of the courtrooms that adjoined the police station. Inside, I found my long-term social worker, Adrian Towsky parked at a small table. He said nothing until Constable Carlin had left us alone.

"Nice going, Monty," he grumbled. "I've done my best to keep you out of juvenile detention up until now, but I'm not sure if I can this time."

"I'm sorry, Adrian. I was just doing what I needed to do to survive."

Adrian scoffed. "Graffitiing locomotives and breaking into government property is not doing what you 'needed to do to survive'."

"I was with a gang. I just did what they did. If I didn't…" I let out a long, weary sigh. "I'm so sick of this Adrian!"

"Sick of what?"

"The system! All I want is to be somewhere where I feel accepted. I'm tired of being moved around from foster carer to foster carer like I'm the parcel in a game of pass-the-parcel!"

"I know how you feel. I was in the system when I was your age too, remember? That's why I'm now doing this job. I want to try and make things easier for you kids." He let out his own weary sigh. "Let's just hope this magistrate is sympathetic towards kids like you. I'll do my best for you in there. Just bite your tongue and show remorse. I know you're not a good actor, but if the judge sees that you're genuinely sorry, they should go easy on you. I hope."

Someone knocked on the door. "Come in," Adrian called. A bailiff drove into the room.

"Excuse me, Mr Towsky, but the magistrate is ready for you now."

Adrian gathered up his briefcase, which I knew contained my casefile. "I'll follow you, Monty. Just remember what I said."

I followed the bailiff across the hallway and into the courtroom. Since this was only a hearing, the room was rather empty. I saw a female magistrate, Constable Carlin, the clerk, and a court recorder parked in their respective positions within the room. Only one car was parked in the public gallery. I recognised her. Her name was Renae James, and she was a representative from the CPS. I gulped when I saw her. I assumed that she was there to advise that I be sent straight to juvenile detention.

I parked alongside Adrian, facing the magistrate. The bailiff broke the silence. "All be parked. This is the State vs McQueen. Your Honour, the facts of the case are as follows. Master Montgomery McQueen was arrested last night after he was caught trespassing into a government owned railroad yard. He stands accused of trespassing, defacing at least one vehicle with graffiti, and resisting arrest." The bailiff looked straight at me. "Master McQueen, how do you plead?"

I glanced at Adrian, unsure of what to say. He gave me a reassuring nod before he whispered. "Just say, guilty, Your Honour."

"Guilty, Your Honour," I said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

The magistrate wrote down my reply. Behind me, I heard Renae clear her throat. "Your Honour, may I make a statement for the defendant?"

The magistrate nodded. I watched Renae as she drove over to the witness stand and park.

"Your Honour. My name is Mrs James. I am here to represent the Child Protection Services in this case. Speaking on behalf of the service, we have failed Master McQueen in regards to our duty of care. He stated in his initial police statement that he was physically abused by his current foster father. This isn't the first time a foster child has reported abuse from this particular family. We are now investigating the family concerned, and if the allegations are correct, they will be charged and removed from the foster care system. By now, you should have received a copy of the medical report issued by police surgeon, Doctor Hans."

The bailiff passed the medical report over to the magistrate, who glanced through it. Renae continued.

"As you can see, Doctor Hans treated Master McQueen's injuries inflicted by his foster father, along with the resulting fever. He has advised that Master McQueen should continue receiving treatment for at least the next seven days. This is not something that the CPS can guarantee if he is placed in juvenile detention. Your Honour, in my professional opinion, I think Master McQueen should be placed in a new foster care family interstate. A fresh change might help him get his life back on track before things spiral out of control for him."

The magistrate nodded thoughtfully. "Mr Towsky, as Master McQueen's social worker, do you have any objection to Mrs James's recommendation?"

"None whatsoever, Your Honour," Adrian replied.

My jaw fell open slightly when I realised what Renae was doing. She was trying to get me sent far away from everything I'd ever known. Strangely, I didn't feel any anger or resentment towards her. I'd never left Chicago, so moving interstate sounded like an adventure rather than a punishment.

Constable Carlin cleared his throat. "Your Honour. There's still the matter of the charges that need to be discussed."

"Yes, Constable. I'm well aware of that. Master McQueen? In light of your illness, the fact that this is your first time in court, and the admission from Mrs James that the CPS has let you down, I am going to drop all of the charges against you. However, I want you to consider this a fresh start for you. You're still young enough to make a change for the better, so I strongly encourage you to do so. If you ever find yourself in this position again, I doubt the judge will be as lenient as I am. Do you understand what I am saying?"

"Yes, I do, Your Honour," I replied meekly. "And thank you for giving me a second chance. I don't think I deserve it though."

Adrian nudged me, hinting that I'd said enough. The magistrate nodded, indicating that she was happy with my reply. Then, she slammed her gavel down.

"Case dismissed."

I slowly breathed out a sigh of relief. Renae drove over to where Adrian and I were parked.

"It may take us some time to find a new foster carer for Monty," she told Adrian. "So, unfortunately, we'll have to put him into a youth care home temporarily. We can take him there now."

"Good," Adrian replied. He glanced down at me. "Sorry, Monty."

"It's okay," I replied. "I don't really care where I go now, as long as I can sleep in peace. I'm exhausted!"

"You do look a bit unsteady on your tyres," Renae remarked. "Let's go back and see Doctor Hans. I'm sure he'll have something he can give you to help you feel better."

AN: Being an Australian, I'm not very familiar with the protocols involved in the US judicial system, so I apologise if I got anything wrong. I did the best I could with the research I conducted.