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Life ends with his brother's death.
Life ends, but something else begins. It doesn't matter what their names were, as they never said them aloud, but now his name is Alfred Borden, because there is no one to contradict him. He gains a new confidence as he walks the slushy winter streets of London, a little richer than when he started out and a lot sadder.
Angier's funeral was a week ago. Cutter will keep his mouth shut. That's his job, after all.
He stays well out of bars, because he's not Angier and not Root and not stupid. However, one day when the wind is so strong it hurts his ears, one day when his boots are soaked through completely, he happens to glance up as he passes the window of a relatively high-class establishment.
Inside, Olivia Wenscombe sits perched at the bar, laughing and chatting with a man Borden doesn't recognize.
Borden stops short, torn. He's due home soon, to take Jess off the hands of the nice old woman who's been minding her. But he and Olivia have things to say to one another. He hasn't seen her since the funeral, which she did not attend, but rather slipped in the back of near the end. Borden is good at picking out the little details, though, and he noticed her then dressed in black, just as he notices her now in her green brocade dress and high boots with too many buttons.
He goes inside. The bartender grunts and nods to him, and Borden hopes it's a sign of politeness rather than recognition. He'd rather not be recognized now that he's left le Professeur behind. In fact, he's been at loose ends lately, wanting to say as far away from magic as possible, but unable to ignore it completely.
Then there's the picky little detail that he's supposed to be dead.
Olivia stops laughing abruptly when she sees him. "Oh," she says. She gives the men next to her a little shove and says something to him a low voice. He moves off, casting an irritated glance in Borden's direction.
He's a little surprised that she recognized him. He's got a beard now, he's done his best to conceal his features, and he never, ever, wears top hats. Then again, Olivia is probably sharper than he ever gave her credit for.
"Hullo," she says guardedly. "Can you cheat death now, too? Is that your latest trick?" She always was full of empty words.
"'Spose so," he says, fighting empty fluff with more of the same. "Mind if I sit?" Saying I and meaning only one person is still jolting.
She raises one eyebrow. "All right. Shall I order you a drink?" Before he can answer, she reaches across the bar to touch the bartender's arm and murmur something in his ear.
You ruined my marriage, Borden wants to say, but that's not big enough. You ruined my life, he tries in his head, but that's unfair. It wasn't really Olivia's fault at all. She was just doing what she always did, and it couldn't be helped that she'd fallen in with people like them. He settles on, "How've you been?"
She gives him a slightly incredulous look. "That's all you can? I thought you were dead, Freddie. Do you understand that?"
He fights the visceral disgusts at being called Freddie, a name that was never his, not ever. "I'm not who you think I am," he finds himself saying. He realizes vaguely that he's more surprised by the pain in his voice than by the truth he's offering up.
She laughs, and it echoes, even in the busy room. "You haven't got to tell me that. D'you think I'm stupid? Then again, perhaps you both thought that all along."
He thinks for a moment that he's talking about him and his brother, but he realizes she means Angier. "Sorry," he says. He is. He's sorry for both of them, all of them, this whole mess. Being a survivor of a battle like that must be even more terrible when you know you're only incidental to everything.
"How did you do it, though?" she asks, leaning forward conspiratorially. He knows she can tell it looks good, this affected movement. She learned a lot from Angier, or maybe she's always been a good actress.
He could make up so many stories about how he miraculously cheated death, but all of them make him feel ill, so he just shrugs. "I was just in the right place at the right time." It's the truth, at least.
She sighs, sitting back and toying with her glass. "They'll find you, you know. The authorities."
He laughs bitterly. "I've been playing roles and mucking about with makeup my whole life," he says. "Do you really think they'll find me? Honesty?"
"If I were you, though," she begins, looking him up and down. He can tell she's starting to make a plan, just as she always did for his brother. "If I were you, I wouldn't stay in London. I'd start over fresh somewhere else. So why are you still here?"
Unfinished business, he's tempted to say, but that's hardly an excuse, because there's nothing he can finish by staying here. All three of their lives, his, Freddie's, and Angier's, are all broken edges and uneven storylines. Instead, he says, "This is where he died."
She makes a little sound of disgust and downs the rest of her drink. "Angier? God, you're really obsessed with him, aren't you? I wasn't wrong."
Borden aches to tell her that he was never the one who gave a damn about Angier, but first he has to explain—God, he has to explain to someone—He's gone too long carrying the weight of this secret on his own. "I had," he says. The sentences dies.
She just waits, though, tipping her head to one side and watching him.
"I had a brother." The words are barely audible in the din of laughter that fills the bar around them.
She waits.
"A twin."
This time her lips form a thin line of understanding where he expected an exaggerated, over-dramatic gasp. Perhaps she's been changed by being part of their lives. "Tell me everything," she says.
Sarah demanded the same thing so many times, begging him for the truth, but he could never tell her. He could never betray his brother like that. Now, there is no one to betray and only his brother's mistress to trust.
The truth is heavy on his tongue as he looks out the window at the fast-falling snow in the street, speaking quickly so he cannot lose momentum and stutter to a stop. He tells himself that their secret doesn't matter now, and in a way it doesn't, as it's been made irrelevant. He offers up the bones of his life story for Olivia's inspection.
When he's finished, she lays a hand on his arm. "Oh, Alfred," she says. That's not quite his name, either, but maybe it will have to be from now on.
"So I've just got to go on, right," he says shortly. "Haven't got much of a choice. I've got Jess to look after."
"Alone," she says.
Alone, God, yes, so alone, but it's not as though he's got anyone he can ask for help. Remarrying would be out of the question, and there's nothing that could replace the even bigger hole his brother left. "Yeah," he says.
She sighs and slides off the stool. "You must hate me. I mean, really hate me. If not for me, your wife would—I'm honestly sorry for that. I never meant to be that kind of girl."
He never expected to forgive her, but his life has taken him to very strange and unexpected places, so he says, "Doesn't matter. Forget it," and he mostly means it.
"Jess should have a mother," Olivia says, the end of her sentence turning up almost like a question. "I know I'm about as far from what you need right now, but . . ."
But I'm alone, he thinks. And I don't hate you. "We'll never be lovers," he says stiffly, awkwardly.
Her laugh is still like silver bells, but a bit deeper now, more honest. "Doesn't matter. That's not what I want. I don't think I ever really wanted you. Just let me come by, just one. I might be able to help. And it might help me."
He wonders if she's looking for absolution or something else, but he doesn't care. At worst, it won't work, they'll have a row, and he'll never see her again. At best, Jess will have someone to teach her about being a women and Borden will have a friend.
He extends his hand. "All right, then. If you like."
She takes his hand and shakes it with surprising firmness. "To the future, then."
He realizes he's been thinking in terms of no future for a while now, perhaps even before his brother died. He finds himself laughing genuinely for the first time in weeks. "The future."