Just a quick note... any an all errors are mine (I take full responsibility for them!) This chapter has gone through MANY variations before I finally settled on this one. It's completely different than the one MountainCat originally saw and edited for me... the horrors of being indecisive!

Except for the waters that continued to rise, the chateau looked the same. Ivy had grown around the windows. Gardeners had trimmed and trained it to allow the sun's rays to enter each of the rooms. The brick and stone were partially hidden, and the large red stained double doors with black hinges and a wrought iron handle and lock stared back at Porthos. With a hint of trepidation, hesitation, and uncertainty, he dismounted and held the reins of his horse as he looked at the tie line outside the entry.

It had been just over a year since he had last seen her. That fateful day she walked away and left him broken-hearted and questioning his livelihood. He had even considered leaving the musketeers for her, abandoning his responsibilities, his friends — brothers, and even his dreams. Porthos quirked a fond smile. Alice hadn't allowed him to leave… she had denied him before he could deny himself, and in the process, he had solidified who he was as a soldier and a man.

The roads were busy for those who lived at or below street level and they worked to prevent the rising water from entering their homes. Others simply moved their belongings to the higher levels of their houses. It was quieter than it had been near the docks; the areas where the ports were the busiest. Regardless, the damage was still the same, and those who lived in the area worked to save what they could. Parents ordered their children to the upper stories of their homes, mothers carried linens and food, while fathers moved furniture.

"Monsieur!" A woman cried. With her blue skirts clutched in her right hand, she waved frantically with her left. "Please, Monsieur, help us!" She ran from behind the chateau near the gardens. The hem of her dress was wet and muddied, her large bosoms swayed despite the confines of her bodice. "Please! Madame Clerbeaux is trapped!" She skidded to a stop and caught her breath.

Porthos abandoned his horse and ran toward her. "Where?" He said and ran in the direction she pointed.

"The children… she went to help the children and," the older woman huffed and adjusted her hold on her skirts and ran after Porthos. "Behind the stables, Monsieur… please," she gasped, and slowed to an exhausted walk, "behind the stables!" She waved him on and wrapped her arm beneath her breasts, grasped her side, and then slowly followed.

Porthos shoved open the gate behind the stables, near the gardens, and it bounced off the tack room wall and swayed back and forth as the hinges squeaked.

Water had rushed the bank of the canal that was fed from the Seine and into the inner city. It had flooded the gardens behind the chateau and along the canal's bank. A frantic mother screamed near the edge for her two children who were trapped in a tree, while her husband and several stablehands worked to rescue them. The knee-deep water was enough to force a full grown man to his knees if he wasn't prepared for the force of it. Mud, plants, roots, branches, and household belongings floated along the water's edge and several pieces dammed in areas that had yet to succumb to its force.

Porthos tossed his weapons belt and doublet onto a wheeled cart near the small barn and then looked at the tree and found Alice tucked awkwardly within its branches. She held the hand of a child, pale as fresh snow and just as frozen, while the other, red-faced and daring, screamed for his parents. Their hair clung to the sides of their faces, and their muddied hands struggled to maintain their holds.

"We've tried everything, Monsieur," a stablehand said and defeatedly tossed a broken rope into the water near his feet. "We tried crossing, but the water is much too deep and it's getting too fast for us — it nearly swept me down the canal." He ran a hand through his blonde hair that clung to his scalp and he clinched his jaw as he turned and looked at the tree that stood a few fathoms from him. He was older, much more experienced than the others, but lacked the strength needed to combat the raging waters.

Porthos watched the servants and stablehands scramble back as more dirt and debris broke away. He looked toward Alice and the children, who continued to cry for their parents. Alice nodded to Porthos and tightened her grip on the branch of the tree. He turned and looked at the two harnessed draft horses. Water dripped from their legs and bellies. The unhitched wagon had lost its left wheel, and the bed lay askew on its axle. The largest of the two drafts chewed his bit and tossed his head. They had tried to cross, but the wagon had shifted and could not withstand the force of the water. The horses had stumbled, struggled, and fought each other and their harnesses as the wagon shifted and tugged in an unfamiliar direction. In a feat of fear and defeat, both animals had been turned back to the stables which twisted the axle, causing the tongue to snap and the bed to break. The horses had lurched forward just as the wagon turned onto its side. With their heads lowered, tails tucked, and hindquarters tightened, they managed to pull it back to gardens where the stablehands quickly released them. Both drafts stood with their ears forward and alert as the creaking and crashing of timber continued upstream.

Porthos pointed to the biggest draft gelding. "Get 'im out of 'is 'arness," he ordered and reached for a long rope. "How deep was the water when you entered?" He looped it into the palm of his hand.

Tully, the stablehand, scratched his head and shrugged. "Just past my knees, Monsieur, but the water is moving way too fast… the others had to pull me back."

Porthos nodded and then tied the end of the rope high on the post that secured the roof of the garden supplies. The building was small, secure, and strong enough to withstand the weight of a man and the raging waters if necessary. He nodded to Tully as he led the big gelding that stood nearly 19 hands high with a heavy, flaxen mane and tail. Too tall for Porthos to mount bareback, he motioned for Tully to help give him a lift.

It wasn't a graceful move, as Porthos settled on the back of the big animal. He relaxed the coiled rope that was tied to the garden shed and gently nudged the horse's sides. The chestnut lowered his head and tentatively took his first steps. He raised his knees as high as he stepped forward. At nearly 2000 pounds, the big horse waded through the water with ease, but with a hint of trepidation.

"Take the children," Alice called to Porthos as he approached the tree. Water continued to run up and along the bark, and the lower branches tapped the surface of the water.

"I'll come back for you," Porthos said as he looked at her.

Alice, with wide eyes and pale cheeks, nodded and carefully helped the two young children from the branch they had found refuge on. They each slipped onto the back of the big horse. The youngest, Adam, rode in front of Porthos, and the eldest, William, sat behind him with his hands clutched to the sides of Porthos' blouse. Both boys gasped for breath as they struggled to regain their composure. Adam had lost his left shoe and his pant leg was torn from his knee to his ankle. William had cut his hand but he continued to clutch at the fabric. He would not let go. He pressed his head against Porthos' back and tightened his grip when the big chestnut stepped away from the tree and started the short distance back to the shore.

"Maman!" Adam yelled as his mother released her skirts and reached for her son.

"Thank you, thank you, Monsieur." She pulled Adam off the horse and held him tight as he grasped hold of her blouse and cried against her neck. She grabbed Porthos' leg as he shifted and gently helped the eldest to the ground with a grunt. The boy swung his legs and dropped the final distance. He grasped his mother's skirts and felt her place her hand on his back as she gently guided him toward the stables.

One of the stablehands helped her as she slipped in the mud and struggled to maintain her hold on both boys.

Porthos tossed the rope to the ground when he realized he no longer needed it and turned the horse back toward the tree. He urged him forward and the animal again stepped into the muddied water. The horse lowered his head to counter the force of the water with his weight. Porthos felt his thighs burn. Riding bareback was a skill he had mastered years ago, but it was not a skill he often practiced. He leaned forward to duck below a branch and looked at Alice, whose knuckles were white. Her dress hung heavy and clung to her. Porthos nudged the chestnut's left side and the big horse responded by side-stepping beneath the branch. The draft swatted his short tail and tossed his head, but stood strong.

"Take my hand, Alice," Porthos said and reached for her.

Alice exhaled, shifted slightly, and gasped. "I… I can't," she said. She trembled and watched another large branch of a tree slap the side of the bank, turn slightly, and then rush down the canal.

"Look at me," Porthos said, and stretched his fingers toward her. "I'll protect you… I swear it."

Alice looked at him again, and though she tried to force a smile, it came as a grimace and she pressed her forehead against the heavy, rough surface of the tree's trunk. "I was so foolish," she said. "I thought I had time to get the children to shore, but the quays burst," she said and hitched her breath. "I'm really scared, Porthos."

"Look at me!" he said in a commanding voice. "I won't let you go."

Alice looked at him, and saw him, not just as her rescuer, but the man who had tried to pull her to shore a over a year ago. Whatever the reason they had met, she had chosen to leave him for the very reason she needed him now. A soldier, a man who would not surrender, and a man who would not allow her to surrender either.

Tears pooled in Alice's eyes and she nodded. "I trust you," she said, and then slowly released her right hand. Her knuckles were slow to release their hold, and bark was imbedded into her skin as she reached for Porthos' hand.

Porthos grasped Alice's hand, watched her eyes continue to water, and then gently guided her off the branch with the strength he was known for. She sat sideways in front of him and wrapped her arms around his chest and leaned against him as he urged the big horse back across the waterway. He could feel her tremble against him. A combination of exhaustion and fear had taken their toll, and like the children, Alice grasped his blouse and held tight. He wrapped his arm around her and held her steady as they approached the bank.

"Thank you," Alice said. She looked at him, quirked a smile, and then rested her head against his shoulder.

Porto nodded and then motioned the gelding to the stables. The exhausted stablehands and housing staff gathered their tools and followed.

In a swift move, Porthos dismounted, and then carefully helped Alice slide from the horse's back. She immediately slipped her arm around his waist and walked with him to the chateau. Porthos, with his arm behind her back and shoulder, supported her as she continued to tremble. The woman who had captured his attention outside the home opened the door and quickly hastened to the kitchen, calling for assistance from the housing staff.

"I'm fine," Alice said and then took a seat in the chair next to the unlit fireplace. She looked at Porthos, who knelt before her and draped a blanket over her shoulders. "Really, Porthos, I'm fine." She wasn't sure where he had found it but she was grateful for it.

Porthos nodded, but placed a curved index finger below her chin and forced her to look at him. Her eyes watered, her nose flared, and reluctantly she leaned forward and sobbed. He rubbed her back, wrapped his arms around her, and felt her succumb within his embrace.

"I thought you said you were fine," Porthos said.

"I am." She continued to cry. She sat back suddenly and wiped the tears from her eyes. She picked at her dress, the wet fabric clung to her, and chilled her bones. "I…" She paused and looked at the door. When nobody approached, she looked at Porthos and said, "I never thought I would see you again."

"Are you sorry you did?"

Alice choked back a chuckle and said, "No." She cupped his cheek and then once again leaned forward. "I'm not sorry… I am sorry for what I said… the things I said that day behind the palace."

Porthos cupped his hand at the base of her neck, raised himself from his haunches onto his knees, and kissed her forehead.

Alice grasped his arm. She swallowed, looked at him, and saw Porthos for the man he was — not the man she wanted him to be. He was a soldier, a Musketeer, a lover, and a man of honor. He was kind, generous, curious, and cautionary. He was gentle, yet protective, and soft yet solid. "I'm glad you are here." Her eyes lit up when he smiled and looked away from her as he composed himself. "A year is a long time to think about things… perhaps," she said shyly, and looked at the dirt beneath her fingernails, and pinched at her dress, "we can discuss some of those things… if you're willing?"

Porthos looked at her, his brow furrowed, and he felt her hand squeeze his arm when she refused to let go. "I will always be a soldier, Alice — I know that more now than I did a year ago."

Alice nodded. "I know," she said, and slipped her hand to his neck and felt the flicker of his pulse against her fingers. "I won't try to change that, Porthos. But," she paused and took a deep breath, "perhaps you can help me understand it more."

Porthos grasped her hand and kissed it. "I will try."

Alice smiled, leaned forward, and brushed his lips with hers.

"You smell like mud," Porthos said as he pulled back.

Alice looked at him with a frown, saw the humor in his eyes, and then suddenly laughed. She again cupped his cheek and kissed him. "Will you wait while I get cleaned up?"