A/N: Look at this! I'm back after two years. Betaing for Shadows of the Arcane made me want to write again, and I felt really bad for never finishing this, so here it is, continued.

I'll just…leave it here.

The Way We Were

Chapter 2

December 28th 1914

The days dragged on and on, and every day she fluttered around the butler, begging, waiting. A week was fine; it must have taken a bit for a letter to be delivered and writing one back would take a day or two. It was understandable.

A few weeks, maybe. As the Fuhrer's son he could never be without anything exciting he ought to be doing. It'd just slipped his mind with what fun he was having on a daily basis.

Two months on the other hand, was inexcusable. It was deliberate and spiteful and all too clear- he was ignoring her. It made no sense for him to be so kind and thoughtful- and to even accept her gift- how dare he change his mind about her so swiftly, to cast her aside without a second thought.

Selim had crossed his heart, he'd promised to carry on being her friend and take her to that play, so why…?

Then again, she had crossed her heart too, promised to bring Jude with her when she visited again. She'd already broken that promise when she sent the letter…

Mother returned from attending to Jude, still doing whatever she could even though they both knew it was no use. She waved doctor after doctor away. Not one could help him, or even knew what was wrong.

At the time she couldn't see past her childish scorn. She'd never forgive him. She could hate him.

Oh yes, she could hate him- hate him forever.

January 15th 1932

"Oh, dear, Mr Porter. Is our new servant still not fitting in? Still ruining all our lovely hedges?" Selim seemed so bad with his inability to properly garden that Rosalie wondered why Mr Porter even let him near the shears anymore.

And yet, it didn't seem to be exasperation that had driven the head gardener to ask to speak to her. Never in all her years had she seen him so flustered. For the sake of talking to him properly, Rosalie had sent Selim away to organize the books in her library and make some refreshments for Mother. That would keep him busy.

Even now, after almost four months, she sometimes forgot that he was there, being so quiet in his work like he thought servants ought to be, looking away whenever anyone passed him by, clinging to the walls, silent and still like furniture. Rosalie tried not to pity him in his rigidity to what he thought was expected of him, but he seemed grateful enough when she paid his wages, so hopefully he wasn't too unhappy here. Besides, he brushed up well in his servant uniform, so it was a part he could play well. How strange it was to see him in long trousers; the other Selim had never been old enough for such things.

"That's just it, Lady Rosalie. It seemed like he would never get any better, and I decided to leave him be to see if he was just nervous with me looking over his shoulder all the time. So I left him for fifteen minutes at the most, and when I got back, well…come and see for yourself, Lady Rosalie." The gardener led her down the courtyard towards one of the many hedges decorating the estate with his short pottering steps. Selim's handiwork stood out as the only hedge not covered in snow, a mossy green bright in the white surrounding it, cut into its usual square, instead of the erratic, misshapen mess he had left it in last November.

Rosalie lifted her skirts and carefully stepped up on the ladders, leaned over and inspected the hedge closer. The sheared branches poked at her fingers, sliced straight and neat, some of the leaves cut through as well. How peculiar, why didn't Selim remove them if the leaves were in the way of his shearing, just cutting through them instead? Was he really so methodical, or maybe he'd planned to get rid of them and Porter coming back had distracted him, somehow? So strange, but surely anything was better than his horrendous previous attempts, however unusual it seemed.

"I can see why you would be concerned." Rosalie called down to him while she very daintily stepped down from the ladders. "Has my dear servant been hiding his talents all along, you think?"

"I cannot be sure, Lady Rosalie. I gave the shears to Selim before I sharpened them, as I intended to do so later this afternoon. See," Mr Porter cut down on the branch a fraction lower, and the shears having not been sharpened to perfection, left a faint jagged cut along it. It was nothing like the flawless smooth slice Selim had made along every branch and leaf. "Unless he repeatedly cut over every branch, it should not have been so clean a cut, but, but that would have been impossible as he was only alone for fifteen minutes. The precision in which Bradley cut this hedge is even beyond my talents, Lady Rosalie, and so quickly, too…I cannot see how it is possible for him to have improved this much in so little time."

How was she supposed to react to that? She couldn't very well admonish Selim for doing too good of a job. That would just be rude! But it was a tad odd when she thought about it. Maybe he was still a little nervous at gardening and could not do his job as well when he was being watched? Even so, Rosalie didn't think she knew enough about hedge-cutting to make too much of a fuss about it, and just laughed it off.

"Well, clearly if he is just shy in showing his skills in this field, in time he will show improvement even with you monitoring him. I'm sure of it. I suggest we either keep a close watch over him when he is gardening, or simply not let him practise his gardening anymore. I shall leave it with you to decide, Mr Porter. I am sure whatever you decide on this matter will be the correct choice."

With a faint smile Rosalie wandered back to the mansion, leaving the gardener to his task while she busied herself in musing over the further mysteries and intricacies of this new Selim.

June 11th 1932

"What was he like, Madam, if I may ask?" His voice startled her from her daydreaming. Car rides had always been rather boring affairs, but with this new Selim daring to talk to her she should have perhaps known better than so assume as much this time. He might have been her servant but that didn't mean he wasn't allowed to speak to her, she supposed. Jude used to speak to her when she was young, about alchemy and what not, and she'd pretended to be interested. Such was the game she had to play if she had wanted to remain at the Hamburgang estate.

"Hm, what was who like, Selim?" She had tried to be aloof and as a young employer should be with her servant, and calling him 'Bradley' had almost helped her keep her distance, but after a while Rosalie had just given up. He shouldn't have even been asking her questions at all, but she had no need to be so cold with the young man who had been sent to them. Her mother had never been that way with Jude, after all. They had never been like other households, why start now?

"My brother." That dull, sad glaze still shone faint beneath his eyes. "Madam tells me that you two were close when he was alive."

Their single meeting and exchange of two letters between them in the year before he'd died could hardly be considered 'close'. Rosalie had wished they could have been close, close enough to use her real name for once. Then again, maybe it had been for the best that he hadn't got himself wrapped up in her game, too. And here was his brother now, wrapped up in her game instead.

The old-Selim's brother…

Was that all she could think of him? How selfish it was of her to not accept this new Selim as he was.

"Well, I only met him once," It was funny; they'd met just that once, eighteen years ago a few weeks back. How strange to think that Rosalie had never seen him since that day, but still she remembered. "your mother even let my mother and I stay the night when we visited because we had travelled so far to get to Central. If we ever meet again I will need to thank her again for her hospitality that evening."

That shadow crossed his face again, and he turned away.

"Mother wouldn't tell me that much about him, Madam. She missed him too much, I think. I know it is not my place to ask such forward questions, but I am curious about him. People always say we are so similar, but how can I be, when I know nothing about him?"

At least it seemed she was not the only one to selfishly continue to compare them.

"He was such a sweet boy, so caring and considerate." Rosalie could lie about a few things, disregard his little cruelties. It had been her own fault, after all, for breaking her promise. She had no right to ruin this Selim's idea of his brother over such petty things. "It's a funny old story how we even met, actually. My relative, Alexander, says that he told Selim about me at the Military Ball back in 1914, since his father was hosting it. He saw Selim with his friend's daughter there and remembered that he liked alchemy, so he mentioned my old butler, who was an alchemist, to him." Mister Armstrong's theatrics were so amusing. Even in his letters, whether years ago or in his letter telling them about this Selim it shone though. "It doesn't feel like so long ago. Just think, that girl would probably be in the middle of university now- if she even went."

Selim scoffed.

"I doubt it, Madam, with what she was like, childishly dressing all wrong for such a formal occasion, and she nearly pulled my coattails off. Such a dreadful girl." There was a scorn in his voice, his ever so other-Selim-sounding voice, though deeper of course. Such scorn was one that she had only ever heard from him, the time when he scolded her for saying his mother didn't care for him. She'd deserved it back then of course, but she didn't expect such a tone from this other Selim, even if it was about another girl.

"Oh, really, did you meet her too, some other time?"

Selim paused at the sound of her voice, whatever contempt had formed on his face faltered and melted away into confusion, like he hadn't intended it at all- or didn't remember where such contempt had come from.

"Oh…no, Madam. Please forgive such uncouth behaviour. I… do not know what caused me to make such a remark, I apologise." He sat back against the car seat sheepishly, trying to slip back into his role as her servant, but not quite. "Please, continue, I did not mean to interrupt, Madam."

"Well…like I said before, he said he liked alchemy, not that I ever saw him doing anything related to alchemy, not even reading any books on it while I was there." For all his gushing, Rosalie could barely remember him mentioning it when they had met, except for him talking about that funny Mister Edward. "Do you like alchemy, Selim?"

"I am afraid I do not. I have never thought much of it, really, Madam." He couldn't hide it, not from her. The too fake, too relaxed, casual way he tried to make it sound, while insincerity and trite irritation oozed out of the gaps between his words. Even the way he said it seemed rehearsed, passing it off as nothing but a harmless answer to a harmless query even though it was something that doubtless had been asked him many, many times, and each time whoever had asked it expected the complete opposite. Not Rosalie, though, of course not. She was used to playing a role not exactly like herself, so why should Selim like alchemy? He wasn't that one. When the time grew nearer Rosalie made a note that she should probably ask Selim what he intended to study at university, if he had grown bolder by that time he would no longer need to be employed here. She needn't pry into such a thing just yet.

"There's nothing wrong with that. I do not care for alchemy particularly either. Do not worry about being compared to your brother; I can see you two are quite different, even in the little time I knew him, and the time you've been here."

That settled it, really. This Selim and that Selim were two entirely different people. Different clothes and different tastes, different interests and ambitions. Not to mention that spot on his head, hidden beneath his fringe. There was no reason for others to needlessly keep assuming one should be the same as the other because of petty looks.

She stifled a snort, and with nothing more than a quiet chortle went back to watching the scenery flit by the window.

Now only if she could get herself to accept that.

Selim really needed an official servant title, when Rosalie mused upon it. He wasn't tall enough to be a footman (the only thing footmen were for was to show off how rich you were that you could employ such a tall fellow as a servant), and generally people had two footmen anyway, that were supposed to be identical as could be. But he could certainly carry the shopping like a footman should, so tall enough or not, that seemed to be his best role. He kept the respectable three steps behind, bags in hand while she wandered along the streets of New Optain unhindered.

To him all this spending would just look like her squandering her money like always. The Hamburgang family had always received their ancestor's play's royalties during its first showing of the year. It kept them well funded and their servants' wages paid for.

Rosalie had seen their 'adored' theatre production the once, in its horribly bowdlerised form for the children she and Selim were back then. Not enough though, probably. If she went now, as an adult, would she see in far more detail the distraught Amestrian Prince, sobbing and killing his underlings, setting his mother's home ablaze, slashing his throat to end his suffering? The law wouldn't allow a child to be working so late at night anymore, so would he be portrayed by a woman instead? That would probably be for the best, to not upset the poor boy that would portray him in the 'tamer' version? Occasional family tradition aside, why had her 'mother' even wanted her to see it? The wretched tale of tragedy and ruin and lots of fire. Whatever was true or made up it was horrible all the same. Fire…Isn't that how old-Selim's real parents had died, too? At least he had not lost himself to despair, like his namesake. He always was so optimistic. She never could understand it. The old Selim was an orphan, like herself. The real her who had never met her true parents, perhaps she couldn't really understand the old Selim at all.

Conveniently enough, the royalty money had arrived close to her birthday this time. Not Rosalie's birthday, back in March, but hers, really hers, Amy's birthday, back on the sixth. With hushed talk of enjoying herself mother had allowed her away for the day to buy clothes and whatnot. No special occasion, of course not. Rosalie almost felt sorry for Selim then, who hadn't spent a single cenz on himself since he had arrived at the estate, frugally hoarding his wages, now weighed down by her silly spending on trinkets. But it passed. She hadn't been allowed to celebrate her true birthday for twenty one years; she deserved this at least a little. Perhaps she'd treat him to something from the confectionary stall when she had finished shopping, if his stubborn servant ideals didn't make him too meek to accept it.

A flash of white and black and a hint of turquoise darted across her path.

Rosalie stopped in her tracks, tensing up and automatically her hand came to rest next to her forehead.

"Good morning, Mr Magpie. How is your lady wife today?"

Not hearing Selim doing the same she turned to him. He was just standing here, looking at her as if she'd gone mad.

"Selim, salute the magpie or you'll get bad luck!"

He blinked in confusion a few more times, and then fumbled with hastily transferring all her bags onto one arm to free it up enough to salute.

"R-Right away, Madam! G-good morning, Mr Magpie…even though it's past noon…"

Oh, of course he wouldn't know…

Rosalie cursed her common nature. Even with the old Selim her childish, lower class things like crossing her heart had ended up slipping through the cracks of her façade, and confused him, and by the look on her servant's face, persisted even now.

The magpie flitted away, up into a tree decorating the street, rejoining another that was already perched there.

Well, she couldn't leave him looking dumfounded dumbfounded in the street like that. She had might as well explain herself.

"It's an old superstition, Selim. Magpies mate for life, so if you see one alone it's sad because perhaps its mate has died, so that's why you ask after its companion to ward off bad luck. But only for the first magpie you see in the day."

"I…see, Madam."

They carried on walking at a slightly brisker pace.

"I guess I'm just superstitious, magpies, lucky black cats and all that."

"Black cats are assuredly lucky, Madam, I am sure. As a child I owned such a cat, her name was Luna. She'd curl up all on my books back home when I was being tutored, and then hide in a dark corner where she thought I couldn't see her."

The faintest crack of a smile appeared and, from the depths of Selim's violet, sorrow filled eyes, a spark of something soft and wistful glimmered there instead. So pure it was, it seemed to be somewhat infectious, and Rosalie found herself smiling a little too. "Such a mischievous girl, she certainly never caused me any misfortune, so black cats must be lucky."

"Oh, how awful you had to leave her behind to work here. I'm sure she's being taken care of back home."

His smile faltered.

"She…" And just as swiftly the glimmer was extinguished, drowned beneath by an even deeper sorrowful haze. "She died many years ago, Madam."

"I…I am terribly sorry to hear that, Selim. I apologise for bringing it up."

Selim stood up straighter, trying to look so self assured and emotionless as he should have done. He tried so hard… yet he did nothing but doubt himself, think he wasn't good enough…

"There is no need for such apologies, Madam; the fault is mine for speaking out of turn."

And in turn, she tried so hard to stop him thinking that their servants were meaningless, to show that she did appreciate him. If not that, she wished he could relax enough to allow himself some happiness while he was here.

Covering her mouth to sigh, Rosalie hurried off towards the tailors', hearing Selim's downtrodden steps the always respectful distance behind.

"Oh, I can't wait to show Howard! Come along, we can't keep him waiting. It isn't often I get to see him!" A lady wearing a plaid coat stepped out from the tailors', her blonde pigtails tucked into her hood. Her own two footmen trailed behind, carrying several bags and a stack of hat boxes.

"Of course, Lady Harriet."

That wasn't out of the ordinary. New Optain was always where the highest of classes flocked, away from the bustle of Central.

Selim moved obligingly out of their way, silent, and even after they had passed by she had to usher him in through the door.

"So, what to order…" Rosalie glanced to and fro between all the designs lacing every inch of the tailors', all the ever changing fashions and styles she could never keep up with. "Mother would probably say I should commission more yellow clothes. She says it suits me, but I don't know, I'm always wearing it so it feels kinda…boring. What do you think, Selim?"

It almost looked like he thought about it for a moment, but he shook his head in the end.

"…It would not be appropriate, Madam. I could not possibly offer my opinion on such matters. The opinion of furniture matters not. It is not my place. "

Well, that was no help.

"Nonsense. I am your employer, I shall decide what it appropriate for you, and I want to know your opinion on this matter. That's an order."

The way he barely stopped himself from wincing told her he didn't hear the jesting in her words, and she exaggerated her pout the tiniest bit more.

"…something a pale blue, perhaps. Like the sky. It seems as though it would suit you very well, Madam."

Hm, pale blue? As a child she had favoured such clothes, innocent blues and pinks and bright bows. Nothing like subtle, delicate, sickly Rosalie probably was. She had wanted to put as much as she could between the child she was replacing and herself. She could not be the true Rosalie; she never would be, so why should she copy her entirely? Rosalie was daffodils and buttercups, and droopy old her, Amy Driscoll the wretch, was bluebells- wild and boisterous and out of place.

But…perhaps there was something better to be had in her blues, like this Selim said. What an ambitious boy he must have been inside, he looked at her and imagined her blues as the sky, boundless and free. How sweet he could be, imagining such things at a glance, even if he'd never seen her wearing such things. No photographs of her younger days had ever been taken.

But he would never just accept it if she took his advice so quickly.

"How interesting a suggestion. I shall see. I'll go and talk to the lady at the counter and get everything sorted out, so you stay here for a moment." Oh, that look. Again. So meek and shy, he thought he'd misspoken…again. Well, at least there was something she could do about it. "And cheer up, Selim. Come, after this is done and dusted, we'll go and buy cake!"

September 3rd 1932

Mother followed her in as she stepped through the door, sitting in the corner. It was simply not done to have a lady wander around the servant quarters unattended. And maybe Mother was a little worried about him as well.

The butler had found him sprawled out in the library. Had he fallen from the ladder while shelving books? Who knew how long he could have been there. At least everyone had done a grand job carrying him in and wrapping him up in his covers. They'd even hanged his uniform jacket and things in his wardrobe, how thoughtful.

At least he was awake now.

A hint of something like death hanged in the air. A kinda odd pressure in the atmosphere, the same as that one time she had gone to visit Jude when he was ill. Selim couldn't…surely he wasn't that ill. He had been completely fine the day before, or had he been hiding something far worse all along?

Jude had hidden his illness well, too.

"Are you feeling any better, Selim?"

A rather started groan was the first answer. Had he not noticed her? Weakly trying and failing to push himself up, he had to settle for turning his head towards her. Oh, goodness, he was so pale…his hair a mess, his dull eyes duller than ever. Even his spot beneath his unkempt fringe looked paler.

"I apologise for failing in my duties today, Madam. I will- I will assuredly be well again tomorrow, and I shall work extra hours. This shall never happen again…I…"

"You should not push yourself so hard. It's overworking that's made you sick." He glanced between her and mother, something almost fearful there. "You…you're scared we're going to get rid of you? Mother is not here to dismiss you; she is worried for you as well. We value all what you've done for us while you've been here, you cannot help being ill. We agreed that we will continue paying your wages as normal even while you are ill. Please do not worry, just focus on getting better. Do you remember what happened?"

"I was organising the books in the library, and one was a little too far away, and I tried to stretch to reach…but I don't remember falling. I felt really light-headed just before…I must have fainted. I didn't cause any damages, did I?"

"No, everything was fine."

The second time she had been into this room there was a different feel to it than when it had merely been a spare room. To give him a bit of time to calm down from being so concerned about what he shouldn't have, she glanced around. She saw a photograph of Madam Bradley on Selim's desk. There was a cat bundled up in her arms; it must have been that Luna she had heard about. But it didn't hold her interest for long, not with the fluffy raccoon that lay its head on top of the photo frame, its ringed tail wrapped around its legs.

"What an adorable stuffed animal." Of course it was adorable, that's why she chose it back then. Make a good impression to the Fuhrer's son, give him the cutest doll. "What is its name?" She already knew its name. The name Selim had chosen for it back then, after he waved off her suggestion of a name.

…that? That is far too crass for this posh raccoon you gave me. How about…

"Rocheford," The croak in his voice sounded more from bashfulness than his illness now "but I call him Rocky. He used to belong to my brother; my mother said that…you gave it to him for his birthday."

"I did. I wanted him to take good care of it. It seems in perfect condition, just as it was all those years ago…except…" Rosalie scooped the doll up from under its paws. "I don't remember this being on him when I left him."

"I thought he would be cold, travelling with me here, so I dressed him up." The raccoon was dressed in a blue jacket. Rosalie remembered it from somewhere… perhaps from…the little brown rabbit the other Selim used to have? Rocky was much too plump for it, the jacket hanging open and his stubby arms stretching the sleeves. "It's rather childish of me, isn't it, bringing such a silly old thing with me?"

"Not at all. Anything to help you not become too homesick can't be bad. I adore all my stuffed animals, even now. Besides you wouldn't want to make your dear raccoon sad now by leaving him at home, would you? He wouldn't be able to take care of you!"

With a playful smirk, Rosalie gripped the doll tighter, and waved it gently, speaking through it in a squeaky male voice.

"Rosalie is right. I can't have you ill all alone! How are you feeling now?"

From under his cover Selim loosed a breathy laugh that could have passed for a gasp.

"Rocky sounds nothing like that," He grinned at her 'I'm doing my best, go along with it' face. "um, I mean…just a little sore, Rocky, but that might be from the fall."

"That's too bad, but I'm sure you'll be fine after some sleep. Just don't sleep all winter. Us raccoons don't hibernate if we don't have to, you know."

"I will try to get better as soon as possible." Rosalie could see the part of Selim that was ill was knocking him back into the formality and rigidity that he thought they wanted, making him realise who he was talking to. This wasn't much, but it was something. He could do with some cheering up while he was so sick.

"Good to hear it! Let's have a get well soon hug! But first Selim, promise Lady Rosalie you'll take good care of yourself from now on. She cares about you. You'll have us all upset if you end up being so ill again."

Rosalie knelt down besides his bed, holding out the doll to him,

"You promise?" She forgot to do the voice.

Selim accepted the raccoon with a faint plush on his cheeks, a faint smile hidden behind it, but she could see the smile glittering in his eyes all the same.

"I promise."

A/N: …is the cuteness working~?

Let us see how Selim continues working for Rosalie and co. Hopefully not so hard as to keep making himself ill! I wonder how he got that hedge cut so fast, too...?

Some references to my other fic for people who haven't read them. In Sin's Child I mention that the Hamburgang family made their money from their ancestor's writing a popular play that was about the fall of the Amestrian monarchy, and while Rosalie visited Selim she watched it with him in Central. At which time she also gave him her raccoon doll for his birthday. A tiny bit of Rosalie's time with Selim as a child is also mentioned in my 250 ficlet Spectrum.

I promise it won't be two years before I get the final chapter out…