I'm a phoenix in the water
A fish that's learned to fly
And I've always been a daughter
But feathers are meant for the sky
And so I'm wishing, wishing further,
For the excitement to arrive
It's just I'd rather be causing the chaos
Than laying at the sharp end of this knife
Home – Gabrielle Aplin

When Iris had accepted the captains offer to go out in the world, she never once imagined five years to pass before she would set foot in Paris again.

It pleased her to see that nothing had changed – Paris was just as she remembered it. Of course, nothing would be the same. She was a different woman; living with Navarre had given her everything Treville wanted for her. She was faster and stronger, and certainly more experienced than before she had left. And yet, as she began nearing the musketeers garrison, she felt unsure of what was waiting for her.

Iris had left the garrison broken and in despair. The massacre in Savoy had torn each and every last musketeer to shreds, physically or emotionally. With five years to regain it's strength, she didn't know what to expect. It would never be what she remembered it to be. Touching the bracelet with the small brass fleur-de-lis charm hanging from it, she took a deep breath. It was a nervous habit, but it never ceased to give her the strength she needed to move on.

Being the first and only female musketeer had never been easy. Over the years she had learned to shut out the comments and judgement from the people she met. Even at the garrison she had had trouble being fully accepted by her brothers. It would be no different now.

At least you will have the support of Aramis and captain Treville, a small voice said inside her.

The thought made her smile. After everything he had been through, Iris had hated herself for leaving him behind. It didn't matter that he had encouraged her to go himself – the attack had changed him.

They had been keeping in touch over the years, but she hadn't laid eyes on him since her departure from the garrison. His letters had soon become cheerier, leaving her with a hope that she would find him as the same charming man who had become the closest thing she had to family.

As the familiar gates came into sight, she felt a thrill go through her. Come what may, at least she would be home again.

"I feel like someone should ask," Aramis began, after a full two minutes of silence. "Why did you call us in here?"

Standing in a line behind the desk in Treville's office, Aramis, Athos, Porthos and D'Artagnan had been waiting for their captain to say something. Not five minutes ago he had appeared at the porch in the courtyard, calling them upstairs. When they entered, he was sitting in his chair, sending impatient glances at the window every other second. The men had waited for some sort of explanation, that didn't come.

Treville sighed, and turned his attention to them after one last glance at the window.

"I was hoping someone would join us before pulling you into this, but I cant delay this investigation any further..."

Glances were exchanged between the men at the mention of another person joining them, but no one broached the subject.

"There's been a string of murders – four that I know of – that I at first glance didn't see anything mysterious about. However, four men is too much of a coincidence to ignore."

"Do these men share a connection?" Athos enquired.

"Not with each other. Their connection is to us. These men functioned, if you will, like extra eyes and ears on the streets of Paris."

"Do you believe these men were murdered because of their connection to the musketeers?" D'Artagnan asked with a frown. Treville ran a hand over his eyes.

"As there were no witnesses to any of the murders, it's hard to tell. If this is indeed just a coincidence, we should treat it as nothing but a simple murder investigation. But," he said, leaning forward in his chair, "if there is someone running around, cutting off the musketeers source of information, we might find ourselves in bigger trouble than we've ever been in before."

Athos lowered his head, deep in thought. It would indeed put the musketeers in a bad light if it became known that valuable information had been compromised. He knew a few of the informants himself; frequently, he took advantage of their expertise himself. For whatever reason, these men stood ready at a moments notice whenever they were needed. They could move like shadows through Paris, receiving or delivering information without being discovered. To hear four of them were dead surprised him. To his knowledge, very few people knew of the existence of these informants.

"It is of the utmost importance you keep this investigation behind closed doors – if someone is out to weaken the regiment, we'd do well to stay a few steps ahead."

Treville glanced back at the window again, looking unsure for a moment.

"It's a tricky situation... I must admit, I am at a loss to where you should begin looking."

"And this someone is an informant as well? Will he be able to shed some light on where to begin?" Porthos asked, crossing his arms.

"She is not, but she will certainly endeavour to do whatever she can," a voice spoke behind them, emphasizing the word she.

Like the others, Athos turned to stare at the woman who had spoken.

She was leaning against the door frame, watching them all with amusement. Though she looked like she had been travelling a long way, her green eyes were alight with joy. A ray of light from the setting sun came through the window, turning the blonde hair that fell down below her shoulders a warm golden colour. She wore a dark blue jacket over a simple dress.

When she stepped into the room, everyone's eyes followed her. Athos found it hard to determine her age – she was young, but there was an air of maturity about her. She couldn't be older than D'Artagnan.

Aramis, who had turned to look at her with a furrowed brow, now stared at her dumbfounded. Her smile grew wider at the sight of his surprise.

"Forgive my delayed arrival, captain," she apologised, her eyes never leaving Aramis'. "There was a slight delay at the detour you had me take. Musket wound to the chest, no witnesses."

"I expected as much... that makes it five men," he mused, watching her as though it was only natural for a woman to speak of such things. The impatient look had returned, but there was now a hint of joy in his eyes as well. Glancing back the the musketeers in front of him, he cleared his throat and stood up as she came to a stop next to him.

"Gentlemen, let me introduce you to Iris Chevalier. Iris, this is-"

"Athos, Porthos and D'Artagnan," she finished, looking them each in the eye in turn. A strange feeling settled over them, as the strange women before them guessed who was who. Seeing their confusion, she chuckled.

"There's no need to look so worried – I'm no stalker. It's just, Aramis often mentions you in his letters."

"Does he now?" Porthos grumbled, turning to Aramis with a questioning look. Aramis still looked speechless, as though he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.

"It would seem he hasn't extended the courtesy of telling us about you, Mademoiselle," Athos said slowly, frowning at the two of them.

"I prefer just Iris, thank you."

"And I prefer any further introductions to be taken outside. You three," Treville said, gesturing towards Athos, Porthos and Aramis, "are to report at the Louvre tomorrow. D'Artagnan, I'll have you and Iris begin looking into these killings in the morning."

Signalling them to leave the room, he turned back to Iris.

"I'd like a word with you before you go anywhere."

The four men still stood in the room, watching Iris with varying expressions of confusion.

"In private," Treville added, producing the stern look they all knew to respect. When the door closed behind D'Artagnan, his expression softened.

"I was starting to worry – according to our correspondence, you were to return days ago."

Iris' smile faltered a bit, and sadness replaced the joy in her eyes.

"Navarre took a turn for the worse just as I was about to leave," she explained, absent mindedly scraping her boot across the floor. "It didn't seem right to leave him in the hour of his death. Not after everything he's done for me."

"You did say he was sick, but I never realised it was this bad," he muttered, sitting down heavily in his chair again.

"At least he passed without any difficulties," Iris sighed. "He sends his regards," she continued, half a smile forming. Treville let out a laugh and shook his head.

"So very like him to act polite, even from beyond the grave."

They were silent for a moment, remembering the men who had once been a comrade of Treville and since a teacher to Iris. When Treville spoke again, his focus had returned to present.

"I hope you wont mind being sent straight out into the field."

"Anything else, and I would be offended."

"These men you saw in here – what do you know of them?"

"Only what Aramis has written." Iris glanced back at the door where they had disappeared through. "He seems to have a great deal of trust in them."

"As he should. Athos and Porthos are both very fine musketeers. And, though he hasn't been with us for long, D'Artagnan shows great promise. Not unlike you did yourself," he commented with a hint of pride.

"It's not their skills I'm worried about," she admitted, letting her voice trail off. Treville gave her an assuring nod.

"If you give them a chance to get to know you, they will quickly come to accept you. Aramis will see to that."

When the door closed behind D'Artagnan, Porthos instantly rounded Aramis.

"You need to explain what is going on," he demanded.

"Who is that woman?" D'Artagnan asked, narrowing his eyes.

Aramis started slowly shaking his head.

"Let's go outside – Treville wont be happy if he thinks we're eavesdropping."

Walking out to the porch, Aramis was closely followed by his friends.

"Who is that woman?" D'Artagnan repeated as they made a small circle around Aramis.

"Iris is an old friend. She's... I haven't seen her in years."

"But who IS she?"

Aramis sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Well, first and foremost, she is a musketeer."

Silence. Glancing at his friends, he saw disbelief on their faces.

"Really though," Porthos muttered, narrowing his eyes.

"I'm not kidding you. I was there when she was commissioned." He stopped for a moment, and frowned. "Well, not there. I wasn't in the room as it happened. Treville is the only witness. But I assure you, she is as a musketeer as surely as I am."

"But... she's a woman," D'Artagnan argued. A wide smile appeared on Aramis' face.

"True as that may be, do not say those words when she is around to hear you. I should know what she's capable of – I helped train her myself."

"You did WHAT?" Athos exclaimed, looking at Aramis as though he had gone mental.

"I'll hear none of this women shouldn't fight, it isn't ladylike stuff," Aramis warned, his smile faltering a bit.

"I've never said anything about women not being able to fight," Athos quickly pointed out. "But she seems so young. Far too innocent for this kind of life."

"Clearly, you don't know me at all," Iris commented, as she walked onto the porch. The joyous smile had returned, and she looked at Athos with a challenging look.

"Mademoiselle, I didn't mean to insult you-"

"Iris. And I'm quite sure young and innocent counts as compliments compared to what others have called me."

Before he had a chance to say anything else, she turned back to Aramis.

"Surprised to see me?" she asked with a mischievous smile.

"Very much," he admitted, grinning. "I'm still finding it hard to quite believe it. What are you doing here?"

"Well, Navarre is no longer with us and Treville though it was long overdue for me to come home."

"Understatement," he muttered as he moved in to give her a hug that actually lifted her off her feet.

"Just look at you," he noted as she let go. "Someone's turned into a woman."

"Oh that's flattering," she said sarcastically, a look of mock hurt on her face.

"You know what I mean – clearly, going away has done wonders for you."

"Only the tip of the iceberg."

"I'm sorry," D'Artagnan interrupted the reunion, looking between the two of them,"but I still don't quite understand what is going on here."

"Well, what do you want to know?" Iris asked, giving him a slight smile.

"I'm very curious about the whole female musketeer thing," Porthos admitted.

"We were actually going out for a drink tonight," Aramis explained, looking hopefully at her. "You could come along. It would give us a chance to sort it all out."

"I wouldn't want to impose," she said quietly, a flicker of nervousness crossing her eyes. Aramis saw it, and turned expectantly to Porthos.

"The more the merrier," he assured her.

"And what of you? Will you for once join us?" Aramis asked, turning to Athos.

Athos rarely joined them at night, as he was more of a solitary drinker. These past weeks, since discovering that his wife... were he even supposed to still call her that... he had been drinking harder than usually. It hadn't gone unnoticed by his friends, where only D'Artagnan knew what had made the sudden change.

Standing with them now, he found himself actually considering it, if only to learn more of the woman they were to work with. Realising she was staring at him, he took a deep breath, and shrugged.

"I don't see why not."

He could always slip into the shadows of a corner later in the night.

"Give me a minute to bring my things to my room," she said, moving towards the stairs. Aramis watched her go to a small stack of things, and smiled at how familiar it was to see her in the courtyard. After she disappeared into the hall that lead to the rooms, and turned and found Porthos looking hopelessly at him.

"What?" Aramis asked, his smile fading a bit.

"Don't tell me the two of you... you know."

"With Iris?" he exclaimed, a laugh escaping his lips. "She's like a sister to me."

"You cannot blame Porthos for assuming something like that," Athos replied, leaning against the wall. She certainly is appealing enough for you to have considered it, he thought to himself.

A/N

I. Am. BACK!

My eyes are burning, and I'm SO tired, but it's worth it to get the sequel going! We're starting off easy - let's realise it. There's no rush. Iris is back in Paris and the musketeers are confuzzed. Yes, I said confuzzed. I need sleep, desperately.

Feedback is so much appreciated, and I hope you will enjoy this story as Iris finds herself with our four heroes.

Also, to clarify, this story begins a few weeks after S01E03. I wont stick completely to the original storyline from the series - fanfiction is to make new stories, is it not?