After, with Cutter.
[after this.]
Her head was still spinning when she returned to her flat, didn't stop spinning until she'd been violently and thoroughly ill, until after she'd sat in the floor after and cried tears of exhaustion and horror and fresh grief and sheer incomprehension muting most of the rest of it. When her legs would hold her again she found renewed strength in anger and it was that alone that carried her all the way to Cutter's door.
"You could've told me," she demanded, eyes aflame with fury.
No hello, no polite pretense for him. She didn't have any of that left to offer today.
"Would you have believed me?"
He didn't even look surprised, which angered her all the more.
"Of course not! I don't half believe it now!"
"You do," he pointed out, still maddeningly calm. "You do, or you wouldn't be so upset."
"It's madness. He's gone mad." She paced back and forth, skirts whirling every time she turned on her heel to pace in a different direction.
Cutter snorted, faintly, seemingly quite content to watch her pace.
"He started mad, Olivia. He's a magician."
"Why didn't you tell me? Something? Anything?"
That wiped away the traces of amusement that had begun to creep into his voice.
"I didn't want to drag you back into this." He sounded tired, sounded as old as he felt, as old as he was, really. Too old to keep trying so hard to save someone so hell-bent upon destruction.
She was having none of it.
"You dragged me into it to begin with, didn't you?" she demanded, pausing in her pacing to stand in front of him, fists clenched and nails biting into her palms. She wanted to slap him, really. He more than deserved it. "You knew how Robert was, you knew how they both were when you hired me."
"He needed someone." A little anger of his own, now. A little impatience, but only a little. She had a right to be angry, but he had a right to defend his actions. They'd been reasonable at the time.
"He needed an assistant. I never pushed you to be more than that."
"You told me--"
"I told you that Angier might be receptive to hearing certain things from you that he wouldn't from anyone else. That's all, and you were already in love with him by then."
It was true enough. She couldn't deny it, and the reminder that yes, she'd loved him, too. Loved the man who'd turned out to be far more the monster. Loved him before he'd ever loved her back, if he even ever had been capable of such a thing.
"Why me?" She was nearly pleading, not demanding now. Pleading for some explanation, any explanation at all.
"Who else was there, Olivia?"
If his tone was short, sharp, too-pointed, it was still not entirely unkind. He'd tried as hard as she had. Sometimes harder.
"Why you? Because you were there. Because you were more than willing to handle it and you showed enough sense that I thought you could. I had a job to do."
"Is that all it was to you, a job?" Were they to Cutter what she'd been to them? A stagehand, something to further their own ambitions? He'd known, he'd been friends with both once. He'd defended them both and betrayed them both and yet still here he was, and still there was that fear that he was in it for himself alone. That he'd used her to get to Angier and Angier had used her to get to Borden and Borden had used her to get back at Angier at she was damn well sick of being used.
"You know better than to ask me that." His voice cold, flat. And she did know better, she supposed. He wouldn't still be here if that's all it had been.
She sighed, her fury cooling and letting all the questions and confusion seep in in its wake.
"What am I going to do, John? It's morbid, him living in Angier's house like that."
"What would you have him do?" Cutter asked, sensibly. "Anyway, I should think you of all people would count it as a blessing. You always did have a fondness for the glitter of it all."
"It's horrid." She shuddered. Beautiful or not, and as angry as she was at Robert, a part of her still wondered if she could even go back there, if she'd be able to stand it knowing all that she knew.
"Do you want to leave, now that you know?" He articulated her doubts, looked at her levelly.
"How can I leave after hearing all that? How can I stay after hearing all that?" She didn't know. She didn't know either, and she hated him, hated Cutter for not telling her, not warning her so she could've gone in there prepared.
"The truth is what it is, Olivia. It's more than most people get."
She sighed, her argument gone before it left her lips. She couldn't argue, and she'd asked for it, and yet... it didn't help anything. It didn't make things better. It was like he'd always tried to warn her - nobody really wants to know the secret.
"How long have you known?"
"Long enough."
"That's not an answer!" His evasiveness infuriated her.
"I won't have this from you too. I want the truth. Details, in order, the right way around."
She crossed her arms over her chest and planted her feet firmly, with no intent to leave until he'd told her all the things Borden couldn't.
"I don't know all of them. I don't even think he knows all of them ."
"But you knew," she insisted. "You knew there were two of him. Listen to me -- two of him, not two of them. I'm talking like he does, like it's what he'd have me believe of Angier. TWINS, John. There were two. They were different people and I didn't even know."
"Didn't you?"
He was quiet, unaccusing. The way Freddy'd been when she met him. That's the truth, is it? She hated him a little for that sometimes, for being able to undo her so easily. She hated him for it even as she realized, looking back, that she sort of loved him for it, too. For winning her heart in truth, for giving her a reason not to go back to Angier.
"I can't do this."
"Then don't." Simple, direct. Don't. He made it sound so easy.
"I don't mean... I'm not going to leave him. I just can't do THIS, try to work it all out backwards. Who he was on any given night. Which one I really loved."
"I don't think anyone can tell you that." A note of regret.
"It matters!" She was insistent. It mattered. It had to matter.
"Does it?"
And there it was again, that way of asking that made her question what two seconds ago she was certain of.
"Yes! No." She sighed, covered her face with her hands and felt like weeping all over again. She didn't, but when she looked up again she sounded tired, too. "I don't... I loved him. I didn't know there were two."
"And now you do, and there aren't. Make your choice, Olivia."
They were both tired. He couldn't do it alone. None of them could do this alone.
"Someone has to look after Jess." She was cautious, still. Still so wary. It still made so little sense and still held so much horror that yelling at Cutter had only distracted her from, not alleviated in the slightest.
"I've done so a few times. Someone else could be brought in." Cutter pointed out, as neutral as ever.
"He won't trust anyone else, and between the two of you the poor girl will grow up damaged."
"She seems all right so far." A quirk of a smile at that.
"Are you trying to talk me out of this or into it?" She was getting as exasperated by him as she was by the other. She was starting to think he'd spent too much time around magicians, too long as one of them, though he was somehow able to retain his sanity. She thought she might have to ask him how.
"Neither. It is, as I said, your choice."
Her choice. Always her choice. Her choice to leave. Her choice to stay. She'd played a role, but she'd played it knowingly. Nobody'd ever forced her then, and nobody would. Nobody'd even ask her, and that made it all the harder. If they'd ask then she could point to someone else.
"You know as well as I do what it'll be."
He'd known that when he told her, she was certain.
"Perhaps." It was affirmation of one or the other.
"I'm not leaving." Not now. Not again. Not unless she had to.
"Then sit. I've got a lot to tell you..."
Her head was still spinning when she returned to her flat, didn't stop spinning until she'd been violently and thoroughly ill, until after she'd sat in the floor after and cried tears of exhaustion and horror and fresh grief and sheer incomprehension muting most of the rest of it. When her legs would hold her again she found renewed strength in anger and it was that alone that carried her all the way to Cutter's door.
"You could've told me," she demanded, eyes aflame with fury.
No hello, no polite pretense for him. She didn't have any of that left to offer today.
"Would you have believed me?"
He didn't even look surprised, which angered her all the more.
"Of course not! I don't half believe it now!"
"You do," he pointed out, still maddeningly calm. "You do, or you wouldn't be so upset."
"It's madness. He's gone mad." She paced back and forth, skirts whirling every time she turned on her heel to pace in a different direction.
Cutter snorted, faintly, seemingly quite content to watch her pace.
"He started mad, Olivia. He's a magician."
"Why didn't you tell me? Something? Anything?"
That wiped away the traces of amusement that had begun to creep into his voice.
"I didn't want to drag you back into this." He sounded tired, sounded as old as he felt, as old as he was, really. Too old to keep trying so hard to save someone so hell-bent upon destruction.
She was having none of it.
"You dragged me into it to begin with, didn't you?" she demanded, pausing in her pacing to stand in front of him, fists clenched and nails biting into her palms. She wanted to slap him, really. He more than deserved it. "You knew how Robert was, you knew how they both were when you hired me."
"He needed someone." A little anger of his own, now. A little impatience, but only a little. She had a right to be angry, but he had a right to defend his actions. They'd been reasonable at the time.
"He needed an assistant. I never pushed you to be more than that."
"You told me--"
"I told you that Angier might be receptive to hearing certain things from you that he wouldn't from anyone else. That's all, and you were already in love with him by then."
It was true enough. She couldn't deny it, and the reminder that yes, she'd loved him, too. Loved the man who'd turned out to be far more the monster. Loved him before he'd ever loved her back, if he even ever had been capable of such a thing.
"Why me?" She was nearly pleading, not demanding now. Pleading for some explanation, any explanation at all.
"Who else was there, Olivia?"
If his tone was short, sharp, too-pointed, it was still not entirely unkind. He'd tried as hard as she had. Sometimes harder.
"Why you? Because you were there. Because you were more than willing to handle it and you showed enough sense that I thought you could. I had a job to do."
"Is that all it was to you, a job?" Were they to Cutter what she'd been to them? A stagehand, something to further their own ambitions? He'd known, he'd been friends with both once. He'd defended them both and betrayed them both and yet still here he was, and still there was that fear that he was in it for himself alone. That he'd used her to get to Angier and Angier had used her to get to Borden and Borden had used her to get back at Angier at she was damn well sick of being used.
"You know better than to ask me that." His voice cold, flat. And she did know better, she supposed. He wouldn't still be here if that's all it had been.
She sighed, her fury cooling and letting all the questions and confusion seep in in its wake.
"What am I going to do, John? It's morbid, him living in Angier's house like that."
"What would you have him do?" Cutter asked, sensibly. "Anyway, I should think you of all people would count it as a blessing. You always did have a fondness for the glitter of it all."
"It's horrid." She shuddered. Beautiful or not, and as angry as she was at Robert, a part of her still wondered if she could even go back there, if she'd be able to stand it knowing all that she knew.
"Do you want to leave, now that you know?" He articulated her doubts, looked at her levelly.
"How can I leave after hearing all that? How can I stay after hearing all that?" She didn't know. She didn't know either, and she hated him, hated Cutter for not telling her, not warning her so she could've gone in there prepared.
"The truth is what it is, Olivia. It's more than most people get."
She sighed, her argument gone before it left her lips. She couldn't argue, and she'd asked for it, and yet... it didn't help anything. It didn't make things better. It was like he'd always tried to warn her - nobody really wants to know the secret.
"How long have you known?"
"Long enough."
"That's not an answer!" His evasiveness infuriated her.
"I won't have this from you too. I want the truth. Details, in order, the right way around."
She crossed her arms over her chest and planted her feet firmly, with no intent to leave until he'd told her all the things Borden couldn't.
"I don't know all of them. I don't even think he knows all of them ."
"But you knew," she insisted. "You knew there were two of him. Listen to me -- two of him, not two of them. I'm talking like he does, like it's what he'd have me believe of Angier. TWINS, John. There were two. They were different people and I didn't even know."
"Didn't you?"
He was quiet, unaccusing. The way Freddy'd been when she met him. That's the truth, is it? She hated him a little for that sometimes, for being able to undo her so easily. She hated him for it even as she realized, looking back, that she sort of loved him for it, too. For winning her heart in truth, for giving her a reason not to go back to Angier.
"I can't do this."
"Then don't." Simple, direct. Don't. He made it sound so easy.
"I don't mean... I'm not going to leave him. I just can't do THIS, try to work it all out backwards. Who he was on any given night. Which one I really loved."
"I don't think anyone can tell you that." A note of regret.
"It matters!" She was insistent. It mattered. It had to matter.
"Does it?"
And there it was again, that way of asking that made her question what two seconds ago she was certain of.
"Yes! No." She sighed, covered her face with her hands and felt like weeping all over again. She didn't, but when she looked up again she sounded tired, too. "I don't... I loved him. I didn't know there were two."
"And now you do, and there aren't. Make your choice, Olivia."
They were both tired. He couldn't do it alone. None of them could do this alone.
"Someone has to look after Jess." She was cautious, still. Still so wary. It still made so little sense and still held so much horror that yelling at Cutter had only distracted her from, not alleviated in the slightest.
"I've done so a few times. Someone else could be brought in." Cutter pointed out, as neutral as ever.
"He won't trust anyone else, and between the two of you the poor girl will grow up damaged."
"She seems all right so far." A quirk of a smile at that.
"Are you trying to talk me out of this or into it?" She was getting as exasperated by him as she was by the other. She was starting to think he'd spent too much time around magicians, too long as one of them, though he was somehow able to retain his sanity. She thought she might have to ask him how.
"Neither. It is, as I said, your choice."
Her choice. Always her choice. Her choice to leave. Her choice to stay. She'd played a role, but she'd played it knowingly. Nobody'd ever forced her then, and nobody would. Nobody'd even ask her, and that made it all the harder. If they'd ask then she could point to someone else.
"You know as well as I do what it'll be."
He'd known that when he told her, she was certain.
"Perhaps." It was affirmation of one or the other.
"I'm not leaving." Not now. Not again. Not unless she had to.
"Then sit. I've got a lot to tell you..."