Author's Note: Penultimate chapter of Shattered. Bruce's POV. As they begin their final preparations to recreate the incident that brought them to the fractured space-time continuum, Bruce tests his suspicions that Clock King's knowledge of their identities has been obtained from a far more local source than any of them expected. What he deduces threatens to change the whole dynamic of the group until it becomes clear that they are all in it together, regardless of who they truly are.

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Shattered 11

Bruce

It has been three hours since Fugit gave me his time-dilation device. He has not reappeared since vanishing into what appeared to be a realm between time and space. I have just finished debriefing the boys and Alfred in the cave on my efforts this evening. They are understandably perturbed by this turn of events, particularly Damian. The boy has been trapped here for over four years: why did Fugit did make his presence known before this moment? Is his appearance here somehow linked to my own arrival? And, if he has only just arrived, why does his appearance suggest he has spent decades trapped between the real world and this nightmare? There are almost too many questions to pose, none of them with definitive answers. Despite the confusion that has arisen from Clock King's sudden appearance, the original plan is still in place and running with far greater smoothness than anticipated.

The boys have acquired additional blueprints and materials concerning construction of the Infinity Engine. Having reviewed these schematics for myself, I am optimistic that the engine can be finished within forty-eight hours, if we all work through the night.

"So, you think the guy has lost his mind?" Jason asks leaning back against the control console.

"Possibly. It's also conceivable that his incarceration in this place has made him desperate enough to escape that he is willing to cooperate with anyone to achieve his goals." I respond with folded arms.

"And he knows who we all are? Who you are?" Dick checks.

I nod. "I believe anyone trapped here for long enough would make the connection between Bruce Wayne and Batman. The rest of you are then simple enough to uncover. However, there is nothing of value he can do with that information in this place."

"What about when we recreate the accident that caused the shattering effect? If he returns to the correct time still armed with that knowledge..." Damian says, trailing off deliberately to invite my imagination to fill in the blanks. I understand his concerns.

"Time will reset though." Tim points out, "It'll be as if none of this happened."

Damian nods his head. "I realise that, Tim, but Father's descriptions of Fugit's abilities suggest that he could be capable of almost anything. Who's to say that his powers won't somehow shield him from the effects of restoring the space-time continuum?"

"My question would be, if he has these abilities, and obviously knows how to restore time given he has seemingly traversed all of it, why has he simply not 'fixed' things himself?" Alfred says.

"Because he needs me." I tell them all succinctly. "I caused the shattering effect to begin with. Without me, standing right where I was when this all occurred, no-one in Gotham would be alive. To reverse the process requires my presence as well."

We all seem to expect Fugit to reappear at some point during our preparations to restore time. Damian in particular is constantly glancing over his shoulder as he and Tim work on constructing the core of the Infinity Engine. I must admit to also feeling trepidations at the thought of such an individual casually wandering into my inner sanctum. I am also growing suspicious that he watching us at this very moment, and perhaps, has been since our arrival. If so, he is either stowed in some obscure vantage point, an impossible feat given how few there actually are, or he is hiding in plain sight. And that could only mean one thing. He is one of us. And, given what I have observed thus far, he could only be masquerading as one person without arousing suspicion at his lack of knowledge with regards to my history. I cast a long look in Alfred's direction.

The old man is currently assisting Dick and Jason with building the skeletal frame of the engine and doing so with remarkable ease, given the device's alien nature. When our eyes meet, he does not hesitate to smile and wave amicably at me. If he is Fugit in disguise, his impersonation is a startling one. Everything from the way he moves to the way he talks is a perfect facsimile. I return the gesture and he resumes work. As I continue to study possible scenarios of how the two devices will interact and what must be done to achieve a flawless recreation of the incident that sent us here, I watch him.

Hours go by. Nothing is out of the ordinary. Until it is. It is so minute to almost be invisible, but I do see an anomaly with Alfred that heightens my suspicions. Dick has not pressed a steel panel into the frame correctly, leaving it jutting out. The old man sees this and helpfully pushes it into a correct position with the boy's thanks. But he only uses two fingers on his right hand to do so, instead of his entire hand. Due to an old war wound, Alfred has a noticeable weakness in his right hand as opposed to his left. Even when I was a young child, I remember him having to use his whole hand to push drawers and windows shut. It is a precaution he always takes to avoid upsetting his injury. He has NEVER only used two fingers to push or press anything with his right hand. Wherever possible, he uses his left instead. But not here, apparently, and not this time.

It is a mistake. It is an unconscious one, but it is still a mistake I recognise. When our eyes meet again, I wave him over to the command centre. He comes easily enough. I tell him we need to talk privately and we adjourn to inside the armoury. I close the door.

"What is it, Master Bruce? A scheduling issue?" He asks.

I shake my head. "No. I just wish to know why you have felt the need to pose as Alfred for the last four-and-a-half years, Fugit."

The old man looks puzzled. "I beg your pardon, Sir? What exactly are you implying?"

"You are not Alfred Pennyworth. I know you are not. On some level, perhaps I always knew, but could never explain why. Now it all makes sense though. How else could you get my son to trust you? What I do not understand is why you have been so loyal to him all this time. I realise you needed me to correct this fracturing, but why be so accommodating to Damian? How on earth could you fool him for so long without slipping up?" I say, laying all my cards on the table.

Alfred emits a deep sigh. "I've grown very fond of him over the years. With nobody else to talk to, it was the only way to stay sane." The man smiles at me and shakes his head. "Four days. It has only taken you four days to deduce who I really am, under all this subterfuge and method acting? You really are a phenomenal detective, Bruce. A ridiculous human being in general." He is still using his Pennyworth voice to speak.

"You gave yourself away when you appeared at the lab. There was little reason to believe you were not hiding among us."

"Why did you not suspect one of the boys?"

"Naked scar party." I say with a slight smile. "I know their scars and they know mine. They are the only ones who do. Even the real Alfred does not know those details. There are too many to keep track of."

Alfred grins. "You have some very strange children in your employ."

"That may be, but I also know them too intimately for anyone to copy successfully. Damian's arrogance is too difficult a trait for any shape shifter to convincingly play, as is Tim's intellect, Dick's sense of humour and Jason's pig-headedness. The only one you could possibly play with margin for error was Alfred. I must admit, you play him better than anyone I have ever seen."

"I owe the detail of my impersonation to Damian and his stories. I knew once you arrived, it would be very difficult to maintain the charade." Fugit says, dropping his vocal impression and speaking in his own voice now.

I am understandably intrigued at the scale of his subterfuge. "How did you know to imitate Alfred to begin with? Did you already know our true identities?"

"No. After the incident I was literally torn to pieces, but still in possession of a conscious mind. It took months to reassemble myself, once I learned how to do so. I am literally part of the fabric of this reality. I can go anywhere using the fractured continuum as a road system and have the ability to move between time periods at will. Controlling my appearance and voice are also side-effects of reconstituting my physical form. The only thing I cannot do it seems, is escape this place. After exhausting all my options, I tracked down Damian to this house, still not realising who he was. When I infiltrated his defences and pieced together his and your identities, I knew my only hope was as Alfred. I used a family portrait to approximate his form and my own imitation skills to do his voice. The rest was all Damian."

I am impressed with such a bold play on his part. It takes guts to fool Damian's shrewd nature. "And, then the pair of you deduced what had transpired together?" I ask.

"We did everything together. At first, I thought I would throttle him to death before we made any progress. But, he really is a wonderful boy underneath all the arrogance. I doubt anyone else his age could've coped with their situation as well."

I incline my head at this candid confession. "What is wrong with your own appearance? You look very ill."

Fugit sighs and plunges his hands into his trouser pockets. "I'm dying, Bruce. I have been since I came here. In recent months, my decline has become more extreme. Chronoton radiation poisoning. No human is meant to absorb this kind of fallout. The mutation I experienced has now become a cancer that infects every cell of my body."

I think I am beginning to grasp where this is heading. I nod my head. "And, since you are a part of the stabilising force in this place..."

"When I die, this entire bubble that we are surviving in will collapse entirely." He says to confirm my suspicions.

"How long do you have?"

"Before your arrival, I estimated three to six months. That figure has now been reduced to a matter of days, four at most. Evidently, your presence as the progenitor of these time fragments has some debilitating effects on the bubble, the epicentre of the ripple effect magnifying it, so to speak." He says with less bitterness than I expected, given his predicament.

I nod my head. "And, I imagine the time fragments suddenly encompassing every July 26th from the stone age to now..."

"It exasperated the fragmentation effect inside the bubble. The strain of maintaining everything is beginning to wear me away." He says to again confirm my predictions on how close to oblivion the city really is at present.

"So, none of this help of yours is a ploy. You genuinely need time to be restored in order to survive." I say folding my arms and leaning back against the shelving.

He nods. "That is correct. You are my only chance at salvation now."

"Why did you take us to that void, if you needed me to act quickly?"

"A calculated risk. I wanted to ensure taking you there would not cause the bubble to collapse. I also needed to prove to myself that your boys could work together cohesively in a very short time period."

"There are easier ways of ascertaining such things."

"Not inside of a week there aren't. Are you going to tell them the truth about me?"

"That depends. Do you know why all of them are fifteen years old instead of random ages? Is there some significance to that age in making this plan work?" I ask, pressing him for as much information as possible while he is in such a cooperative mood.

He scratches the back of his head. "Another calculated risk, a far more dangerous one than the void. I forced them out of their time fragments and the memories they were integral to maintaining. I knew the best way of succeeding was to only provide you with people you would trust implicitly. Your own children were the most logical choice."

"You have the power to remove individuals from their time fragments?"

"I did four days ago. Doing so, weakened me further. The risk of pulling them out was making the fragmentation worse, likely too damaged for the five of us to repair, even with the Infinity Engine and my time-splicer. They're all fifteen because it made them equals. I imagined that a lack of pecking order might make them more willing to listen to one another. It worked as well as I could've hoped."

"I see. Very prudent, Fugit. They have worked well together in the circumstances."

"Well, they would do anything for you, Bruce, even die, or so I am told. Did Damian really die when he was ten years old?"

"Yes, he did."

"So, you really did go to Hell and back to resurrect him?"

"I would not call Apokolips Hell, but I suppose it is not far removed."

"You really do love them, don't you?"

I look him dead in the eye. "More than anything."

"Then I should tell them the truth. It is unfair to hide it from them any longer, especially Damian." Fugit says before attempting to move past me. I grab hold of his wrist to stop him.

"It would be better not to tell them. Their focus should be on the task at hand. Anything else would be a distraction and a hindrance to their progress. And Damian would be beyond angry with you for deceiving him for so long. We need him sharp going forward."

Fugit looks surprised for only a moment before nodding in agreement. "I have always admired your practicality, Master Bruce." He responds having resumed his Kensington accent with aplomb.

"Thank you for keeping him safe. It means a great deal to me." I tell him earnestly. Fugit nods his head, but says nothing. We open the door only to find all four Robins blocking our exit back into the cave.

Damian is wearing earphones and gloves that look remarkably like the prototype listening devices I was developing prior o arriving here. In theory, the finished article could hear though even sound-proofed doors and material. Judging by the sour expression on his face, it appears the boy has perfected the technology. The other boys look equally unimpressed with the pair of us. I would imagine Damian has not just been listening to our conversation, but relaying it as well.

"I hate how smart you are, Father." Damian announces pulling the earphones off his head. "One gesture and you have him completely unravelled. Meanwhile I still had no idea after nearly five years of his companionship. I'm such an idiot."

"We don't have time to rue past mistakes or the cruelty of hindsight, Son. That engine needs to be built within three days, otherwise we will all die and so will Gotham. Can you put aside whatever you are currently feeling for the good of the mission?"

"As long as he does not soil Alfred's reputation by playing dress-up anymore, then yes." Damian said jabbing a finger venomously at Fugit who nods in agreement.

"Okay, kid." Fugit says dropping his impersonation before suddenly transforming to his true appearance in a single burst of light. "No more tricks, I swear."

Damian looks visibly shocked at Fugit's haggard and now clearly dying body. The other boys move closer to get a better look at our former enemy's terminal illness.

"You could have simply told me the truth, Fugit." Damian says, taking hold of the man's green-veined hand and examining the extent of the damage. "You really will be dead in days if this is any indication."

"Yeah, well, C'est la vie, kid." Fugit says before suddenly gripping hold of the boy's hand and squeezing it. "I'm sorry I lied to you all these years. It wasn't all fake, I swear." He adds in a far less casual tone. The boy notices the change immediately.

Damian still looks hurt by his deception but less angry. They have shared many moments together over the past four-and-a-half years. It cannot all have been a con on Fugit's part. I saw it in his eyes as Damian no doubt sees it now. The boy nods. "I know."

Fugit opens his mouth to say more only for Damian to raise his free hand to silence him. "It would be...vindictive of me to not forgive a dying man. So, I do forgive you, Fugit. Let us say no more on the matter."

I have never been prouder of him than I am now. He has grown immensely in the last five years, more than I had believed. The old Damian would not have forgiven Fugit's transgressions. He would have ripped out his throat and screamed at him until he turned blue. I am glad to see he has matured in more than just mind and body. His emotional maturity is beyond impressive in the circumstances.

I nod my head. "Let's get to work."