Disclaimer: I do not own RoV.

AN: The 'alternate universe', does not follow the actual timeline in RoV. To avoid confusion, this chapter is in the 'real' RoV, 'alternate' Andre is in it.

Chapter 3

Oscar watched him sleeping in silence. That very afternoon he had woken up and looked at his own grandmother as if he were seeing a ghost. How could he think Nanny was dead? Oh, her poor Nanny. She was very much heartbroken.

Could it be possible the poison had messed up with his brain as well? Doctor Lassone said Andre had no head injury, but it was possible he took a poison that caused damage to his nerve system and caused selective amnesia.

But she knew Andre didn't have amnesia. His grandmother was very much alive all of these times.

Oscar sighed deeply. She had said to Nanny that it was best if she did not make appearance in front of Andre and that she herself would continue watching him for time being. He had been petrified, to say the least. Doctor Lassone even had to give Andre some sedative just to make him calm a bit while he inspected him.

What exactly had happened at the bar that night? She wondered. Oscar had interrogated the bar owner, even threatened him for death sentence if he dared lying to her. But he kept swearing that he'd just given Andre whiskies. Lots of it, because the man asked for it, he said.

Oh she knew Andre had gone to a bar to get drunk. Andre could never understand what she did. He could never comprehend why she decided to leave her position in the Royal Guard and join French Guard instead. He could not even see why she had to live like a man.

At first, it had felt like a painful stab on her back. All these times she thought she could rely on Andre in everything, turned out he's the one who had exposed her to her most vulnerable state. And he had guts to tell her that he loved her!

She should've had hated him. But every time she's reminded by the fact that he had been such a loving and loyal friend. And maybe all of these times he was suffering because of love too. After all, she knew firsthand how love could destroy everything. She had seen it in Marie Antoinette, von Fersen, herself and now Andre.

And thus she had forgiven him.

That's what she always wanted to say. He was her best friend. When they were kids they never had to say sorry. They just knew somehow that they would always end up being friends again, that everything was always forgiven.

But as they grow older things became more complicated. Both couldn't hear the unspoken words anymore. And Oscar just didn't have enough courage to confront him. Their friendship had been badly injured and she was afraid one wrong word could destroy it forever.

She felt they're growing apart. She had wanted him to be her friend. Andre had wanted to have her.

Oscar chuckled in irony. He said he loved her. But he was with a woman that night. The other people at the bar had confirmed it. The moment they were kissing and then went to a room upstairs. Strangely enough, those men in the bar claimed to often see her but no one knew who she was or where she lived. Nobody even knew her name. Oscar had her men search for the woman across Paris, but so far they found dead end.

On the other hand, Andre didn't say anything about the woman when Oscar was asking about that night. Was he trying to protect her? Or was he trying to hide the fact that he had an affair with woman, from her?

The blonde commander shook her head. That was absurd. She wouldn't care much about Andre's love interest. As long as she's a good girl and could make him happy, she's fine. But if this girl were the one who poisoned him, Andre would better tell her where she was.

She saw Andre's body moved and her body's stiffened in alarm. She watched him as he blinked several times, tried to see in the dim light of room. "Is that you… Oscar?" he asked in hoarse voice.

"Yes." Oscar stood up and went to the candle near his bed so that he could see her.

"I see this strange dream has not ended." He laughed but she could tell that he was suppressing his nervousness.

For a while neither said anything. Then Andre broke the silence. "Aren't you supposed to be sleeping at this hour, Mademoiselle?"

"Don't call me that!" she snapped, very annoyed. She should've had known Andre would pick such inconvenient time to tease her.

Andre, on the other hand, seemed amused. "Well, well… I knew this temperament. If you would be so kind, then, Monsieur de Bourgogne, where are we now exactly?"

Oscar was a little surprised by his next nickname for her. But this was the man who screamed 'you're dead!' to his very old and very fragile grandmother. So Oscar answered him carefully, "You're in your room, Andre. And my name is not Bourgogne. I am Oscar Francois de Jarjayes."

Andre raised his eyebrows. "Aren't you married to Comte de Bourgonge?"

"Oh for the love of God, Andre, what makes you think I would, like ever, be married? Besides, I believe Comte de Bourgogne was deceased some years ago," she answered in apparent annoyance.

But deep down Oscar was confused. Surely Andre, as her playmate since child, had been given same education as Oscar and had been with her almost in every social occasion. But he to know de Bourgogne and not even recognize his own grandmother was too much. And not to mention he even have the thought she would marry such an old man!

Andre didn't seem to notice, though. "I meant not the late-comte, Monsieur. I meant his son."

"Oh cut it with the formalities, Andre!" Oscar barked. Andre was a little bit taken aback, but that annoying amusement was even clearer in his eyes. Oscar took a deep breath. She wasn't going to let Andre getting on her nerve. "You probably messed up with the name, the Comte did not have—"

"Yes, he did have a son, Comte de Belfort," Andre cut her.

Oscar knitted her eyebrows as she tried to memorize. True, she wasn't very involved with the social life in the court of French monarch. But she sure knew if there was any surviving son of the newly-extinct branch of House of Bourgogne. "No, Andre. I am very much certain there was no children. What is that with you anyway? You don't recognize your own grandmother and now you're asking me about the nobility. And stop talking so formal to me!"

Oscar knew she was losing her patience and she really did try to anger in check, but damn if her friend did not push her limit.

"Grandmother!" Andre exclaimed, as if he just remembered something. "What is her name?"

"What? Are you-? Ugh, okay… Her name is Marie. Jesus, are you sure you're okay now Andre?" she said worriedly. She was considering calling doctor Lassone again, in case Andre had another nervous breakdown. But it was very late, so she figured it's best she just tell him to sleep.

"Marie Victoire?"

"Just Marie, Andre. Go to sleep now. You may want to ease your mind a little. You've been knocked out for two days straight anyway."

"Nice way for telling me I have lost my mind, Oscar," he said in sarcasm.

"I think you are confused," she replied simply.

Andre sighed in defeat and closed his eyes. Oscar was just about to leave when she noticed horrified look on Andre's face. His hand was on his injured eye and he seemed to just become aware by the fact that he could not open one of his eyes.

Oscar felt her heart breaking. She unconsciously held her breath as she saw Andre tried to register what had happened to his eye.

"Bring me a mirror. Please…" he said. His voice was shaking.

"It's very late Andre. Go to sleep…" Oscar tried to calm him.

"Mirror. Now," he demanded her firmly.

Oscar bit her lip, then forced her body to move toward a mirror near his closet and very slowly, took it from the wall. Her hands were trembling when she handed him the mirror.

She was expecting another outbreak from him upon realizing he had lost an eye. And she just wasn't sure whether she even had strength left to deal with this. But he was surprisingly calm. He sighed and handed the mirror back to her.

Oscar received the mirror and put it on the table near the bed. Then she sat beside his bed again. Her eyes were watching him. But he just closed his eyes and put both hands on his head. For a moment they stay silent. Then Andre asked with cracked voice, "Who am I, Oscar?"

"You are Andre Grandier," she said in a steady voice that even amazed herself. "You were brought here when you were eight and I was seven by Nanny, your grandmother. We've been friends ever since."

Andre snorted. "We couldn't be friends, Mademoiselle."

This time instead of annoyance, she felt anguish toward the way he was calling her. She felt tears threatened to fall from her eyes. "Why can't we?"

"If my grandmother is your Nanny, that would mean I am a mere commoner. I couldn't be your friend," he said simply. "And you should not be in my room, Mademoiselle, it wasn't appropriate."

At his answer, Oscar's cry broke. "You, Andre Grandier, are my friend! Always have been, always will be! I don't get the crap about me being a noble and you're a commoner. You know me!"

Andre seemed surprised. But then he raised his hands, one to squeeze her hands and the other reached for her face. Oscar flinched at his touch.

"What?" Andre began to seem aware. "This isn't appropriate?"

"Oh, cut the act!" Oscar chided him and he grinned. He wiped the tears from her cheeks and patted her shoulder.

"Go to sleep, Mademoiselle. It's really late," he said with finality.

Oscar nodded and headed to the door. She reached for the door knob and turned around to face him. "It's Oscar," she said before she went out of his room.

Andre grinned even though he knew she had left the room. But soon his grin turned into grimace. He didn't understand what's going on. Had he been dreaming all along and get so caught up in his role-playing as a comte that he forgot that he was just an attendant?

He tried to focus and remember this room. But he couldn't. Instead he remembered clearly Oscar in various colors of dresses. He remembered his little Rosemary.

Damn. He had tried to be strong for he didn't want Oscar to worry too much. But now when he's all alone, he felt fear and longing crept through his veins. He let tears run freely on his cheek.

This is going to be a long night.

oOo

The following morning Andre tried to reconcile with his 'grandmother'. So after being yelled at, punched and kicked, he now had the eldest clinging to him and crying in his arms. She was worried then relieved then terrified then relieved.

"God must've punished me! What did I do to have such ungrateful grandson!" she cried as she hold him tightly, almost left him no room to breathe. Andre had to hold back laughter of amusement. His grandmother was nice, he could get used to her.

Afterward, Grandmother told him that his work was basically to tend the horses and he had to start doing this instance. "You have been sick long enough! Now back to work!" she said and shooed him toward the stable.

Fortunately he remembered having certain passion to horses. And he definitely had enough capability to deal with the four legged animals. While his father in his dream had certain possession toward watches, Andre had found interest in mounting horses since childhood.

De Jarjayes sure had nice mounts. Five stallions. All of them seemed to be in great condition. He scrubbed his hands together and began to fill the water to wash the mounts. His job here was actually fun.

The black stallion, he noticed, seemed very fond of him. All of stallions were fond of him for sure; he's the one who had taken care of each of them anyway. But the black one was special. He wondered if this belonged to Comte de Jarjayes, whom, speaking of which, he hadn't seen in the mansion so far.

As he washed and scrubbed and trimmed the horses, he felt his clothes were damped by dirt and water and sweat. He looked around to make sure no one was looking and then took off his shirt. He was pleased to see he had well-toned abdominal muscles. Grinning, Andre thought his activities as a servant in Jarjayes mansion turned out to be a great work out.

He was still diligently working on the horses when he thought he heard giggles. He was stilled in awareness for a moment before he saw three maids of de Jarjayes mansion, apparently enjoying the show of him scrubbing the horses from across the stable.

A wicked thought crossed his mind. He may not remember most part of his life and certainly couldn't imagine how he survived being friend of the fiercest human being on earth called Oscar, but he knew ways to get a lady. He was Andre Hyancinthe de Bourgogne anyway. Or at least in his dream he was.

So just for his own amusement, he decided to give the girls a little show. After all, as far as he knew, he was single now. So he began to scrub the horse a little slower, bent his body every here and now just to show the fine muscle of his arms and chest and abdomen.

The girls giggled even more gleefully. Andre smirked. He was beginning to enjoy his role when the giggles stopped abruptly. Having wondered what made them so quiet; Andre raised his body and looked at the stable entrance. And there, standing Oscar de Jarjayes herself, face flushed furiously, looking like she was ready to kill somebody.

Andre smiled awkwardly. "Oh. Umm. Hello, Mademoiselle."

"Cover yourself, Moron! What were you thinking having a striptease show in front of the maids?"

"I was scrubbing your horses," Andre tried to defend himself in vain. He hurriedly put his shirt back on nonetheless. It was almost an automatic response. In spite of everything, the he last time he knew, he was married to her. Well, not this commander Oscar. But he's married to Oscar anyway.

Oscar, in the other hand, was infuriated. For over twenty years she knew him, never once she saw him flirting, much less giving a show to any woman. But now…

She growled. Just last night he became a perfect conservative gentleman, talking about what's appropriate to her. And now he's the one who behaved extremely inappropriate toward her maids in her own house.

"Take a bath. You stink!" she spat.

And with that she turned around, leaving Andre in question. What have I done this time?

oOo

Oscar heard knocks on her door and, without looking away from the book she was reading, replied, "Come in!"

Oscar thought it would be another maid who brought her evening hot chocolate drink. Andre had stopped doing so since the uneventful night right here in this very room. A coward, she thought. He doesn't even have the guts to see me here.

"Where should I put it?"

Andre's voice made her eyes lifted from her book in instance. On her door stood Andre, with slightly damped hair, and he was carrying a tray of her chocolate. Oscar suddenly felt chill in her spine.

"Just put it there." She was pointing at her vanity table. It made her feel somehow guilty, but she wasn't ready to let him being close to her. Not in this room, at least.

Oscar pretended to read her book. But Andre did not budge from his place in front of the door. With a sigh, she put down her book and looked at him. "What do you want?"

He seemed unsure. "Few things are just… unclear to me. And, considering that last night you said we're friends, I would like to straighten couple things up."

Oscar sighed. "Fine. What do you want to know?"

"Everything." Andre casually grabbed a chair in front of her vanity table and put it beside Oscar's bed. "How come we became friends, Oscar?" he questioned while sitting on the chair. This close proximity left Oscar uncomfortable, but she soon forgot when he added, "I mean, no offense Oscar, but with your temper and my rank I found the situation rather… improbable."

"You're the one who tests my temper all the time!" Oscar yelled, causing Andre to back off a little on his chair. "And I've told you I don't care about ranks."

Andre didn't buy it. So Oscar continued. "I imagine it must be hard waking up one day and not remembering anything about your life. We're investigating what happened during that night, Andre. And I need you to help me, so that we can figure out what happened to you and hopefully restore your memories."

Green eye was barring to her blue ones. "What do you want to know Oscar?"

"That woman."

If Andre felt upset by her question, he sure hid it well. "I went to the bar, intended to get really drunk. And there was a woman, with auburn hair and strange grey eyes. I was really drunk, Oscar. And I swore nothing happened."

"You kissed."

"We just kissed. Nothing happened."

"You went to a room upstairs."

"Christ, you don't let anything left do you?" Andre groaned in frustration. Oscar remained calm, keeping her face straight.

He sighed. "Yes, we went upstairs but I swear nothing happened. I stopped. I couldn't bring myself into…" he stopped. And Oscar didn't push him.

"What's her name?" she asked.

Andre shrugged his shoulders.

"Oh, Jesus! Andre!" Oscar exclaimed. She couldn't believe Andre would go kissing just any girl.

"I wasn't thinking!" Andre tried to defend himself. "It was… Okay, I was wrong. I'm sorry."

"You don't need to," Oscar replied coolly. "I suppose you don't know where she lives either, then?"

Andre shook his head. "She did say she lived couple blocks from be bar, though."

Oscar knitted her eyebrows. "Then I guess she's lying, then. My men had swept all of the hoses near the bar. Unless they are all conspiring to hide the girl, no one knows where she lives exactly. And the odd is that, all of them claimed having seen her frequently but no one knows who she is or even has spoken to her."

"Oddity…" Andre whispered. "That's not the only oddity, Oscar."

"What do you mean?" Her book was now completely forgotten.

"I know you think I lost my memories because I can't comprehend who I am or recognize my own grandmother…"

"Doctor said you probably had selective amnesia."

"But there's a problem, Oscar." Andre stressed his words, "I do have memories. Just… different."

"I'm not sure I understand…"

Andre squeezed his own scalp. "I remember all the things that happen until that night in the bar. But my memories are different than what actually happened."

"I'm sorry Andre, you have to be more explicit." Oscar had felt something. And she's torn between believing something unexplainable had happened and doubting the sanity of her best friend.

Andre seemed more frustrated. "In my head, I am Andre Hyacinthe de Bourgogne, the eighth child of the deceased Comte de Bourgogne, the only surviving son. My mother was Marie Therese de Malavoy and she died giving birth to me. I was born Comte de Belfort before I possessed my father's title. Why did I have all of these things inside my head, Oscar? Am I insane?"

Andre was looking at her with desperate eyes. But Oscar looked startled, she still couldn't make sense of any of his words.

"First time I saw you was when we both received military training in academie de versailles. You were the only girl enrolled." Andre smiled, but no longer looking at her. "It was interesting and you beat me every time on sword-duelling," he shook his head.

"You were so distant from the social life of the court. But we got along pretty well. You've saved my ass a couple of times." He chuckled. "I was kind of trouble but you have your issues as well."

Oscar's face was flushed red. But she remained silent.

Andre was waiting for her response. But since she just stared at him with unreadable expression, he carried on. "Your father thought he was making a mistake by making you lead a life that of a man." He grinned and looked at Oscar, who seemed a little trembled but kept silence. His grin faded. "He wanted you to marry. So I proposed to you, because, well my father wanted me to marry as well to keep me from... my troubling habits."

At this mark, Oscar's mind snapped. She got up from her bed and stand in front of Andre, towering him. "You are married and yet you went to a bar to find some hooker in heat! Some gentleman you are!"

"Our marriage is exceptional, Oscar!" Andre said in exasperation. "And I'm really, really sorry that I did what I did."

"Of course it's not if you pushed me into it!" Oscar yelled.

"I did not!" Andre snapped back. "I'm sorry. But I did not wed you by dragging you into the altar nor forced you to sign the damn paper! You knew you could not simply going back to being a woman just by changing your clothes. You knew Fersen could never see you the way he saw the queen. You wanted out. I offered you freedom, my dear. And you accepted it."

Oscar's face was now as pale as a ghost and her body's shaking slightly.

"None of these makes any sense, right?" Andre spoke, now in very gentle voice. "I've been trying to remember the life I actually had, a life as your friend, as a servant, even as a grandson of my grandmother. But I can't. Heaven forbids, my grandmother passed away when I was eleven!"

Silence. Nobody said a word. Oscar was still shaking and Andre did not dare to lift his head and face her.

"We'll find the woman, first." Finally Oscar said coolly. "I could not think of anything right now." She then turned around and walked away.

Andre watched her standing by the window. Her back faced him. He bit his lips. There were still so many things he needed to know but it looked like this was too much for her. So he got up from his seat and walked out of her room in silence.

Oscar put her head in her palm. She trusted Andre with her life. But after that night and after tonight, she began to wonder if she had put her trust on the wrong hand and if Andre's affection toward her had turned into dangerous obsession.