Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. Just borrowing. Made no money!

Trial by Fire Part 3

By Ecri

Flames licked the walls painting the room in an eerie red-orange glow. The items stored in the attic had been there a long time and some had not been touched in years...or decades. The boxes and their contents, helped by the old, yellowed, crumbled newspapers with which the more delicate items had been wrapped, went up quickly and passed the fire on to other parts of the room. The floor itself was on fire in some places. Smoke curled and twisted like a live thing trying to escape what was left of the room.

Dick came to lying on the floor. His face, mercifully, was inadvertently pressed into the crook of his elbow protecting him from smoke. Unfortunately, he woke unaware of that fact and the first thing he did was inhale deeply. Coughing for several minutes, he tried to look around and get his bearings, but found he couldn't really recognize anything. Alfred, he thought, I have to find Alfred. He'd grown to like the old man and the thought of something happening to him terrified Dick. Besides that, he wasn't going to tell Bruce that Alfred was injured or dead. That struck Dick as a good way to end up the same way himself.

As the coughing settled down, Dick took a more shallow breath and called to Alfred. "Al, hey, Al! Where are you?" Dick got the response he'd expected: none. He d have to do this the hard way. Crawling around on the floor, trying to stay low enough so as not to breath in too much more smoke, Dick put one hand out before him, trying to feel if Alfred had fallen somewhere nearby. He'd been standing right next to Alfred when the explosion...what had exploded? Dick tried to remember just what had happened, but it was all a blur. He shrugged it off. He'd probably remember later when he and Alfred were swapping stories in the ER. Dick only hoped someone had seen what had happened and had called the Fire Department. He wasn't going to stop looking for Al now, and the house would surely go up if someone didn't get here soon.

Dick had to stop again. The smoke was getting thicker. He couldn't see anything. He tried to suppress another fit of coughing. Then, miraculously, the smoke seemed to clear a bit and there, not two feet in front of him, was Alfred. "Al!" Dick was so excited, he nearly rose from the floor. Catching himself in time, he crawled forward slowly, and grabbed a hold of Alfred's shoulders. Slowly he dragged the old man toward him, inching them both across the floor and towards the staircase. It took longer than Dick expected because he had to go around burning boxes and fallen rafters. Alfred was a dead weight, although Dick discouraged himself from using that imagery. The butler didn't seem to be able to move on his own. He hadn't opened his eyes at all. Dick almost wished he would cough once so he'd know the old guy was still around.

When they finally reached the staircase, Dick began the arduous task of lowering Alfred down one step at a time. He took the lead himself not wanting to risk lowering Al into a hole or flame or whatever. He reasoned that, even if he couldn't see too well right now, he'd certainly feel it if he stepped in flames. Alfred might not be aware of it at all.

Dick crawled awkwardly down the staircase. One step. Left knee. Right knee. Alfred. Left knee. Right knee. Alfred. He'd gone halfway to the first landing before he had to take a break. Dick wanted to wipe his face. He could feel sweat start to trickle into one eye, but he didn't dare let go of Alfred. He tried to angle his head to wipe his eye with his shoulder, but that produced minimal results. After a moment, he continued downward, afraid to stay in one place too long. Left knee. Right knee. Alfred. Left knee. Right knee. Alfred.

By the time Dick had made it to the second landing, he was having trouble keeping a grip on the situation. Alfred was heavier than Dick had thought. The smoke was choking him, blinding him. His throat was so dry it ached to breathe. His chest felt heavier with every breath he took. Still he was determined to save Alfred.

A loud creaking sound penetrated Dick's fatigued brain. He found it hard to listen intently and continue on his downward route, but he was too afraid to stop. The heat was increasing if that were possible. Fearing the worst, Dick tried to see through the smoke, which was now also getting more intense. Pausing a moment to adjust his grip on Al, he heard the creaking sound again, only this time it was louder and more ominous. Dick knew his time was growing short. If only he could get Al down the next few flights of stairs. Maybe the fire hadn't spread that far. With a grunt and another shift in his position, Dick again began his descent.

Bruce Wayne had searched the first floor and had begun to climb up to search the second, when the firefighters arrived. They'd dashed into the open door and had cut Bruce off before he could dash up the steps.

"Anyone else in the house?" The firefighter was an intense man, near 40 years old with intelligent eyes.

Bruce nodded. "I think so. I haven't found them yet. An older man named Alfred and a teenaged boy, Dick Grayson. There was an explosion. It looked like it came from the attic." Bruce moved to go up, but his path was blocked by several firefighters running in with axes and hoses at the ready.

"Hey, where can we hook up these hoses?" A younger man stood by the door leaning into the house with one hand on the doorframe.

Bruce knew he couldn't search for his friends now. These people were trained to do it. He'd have to let them. "I'll show you. Wayne Manor has a private water supply." Without another word, Bruce led the man outside to the fire hydrant, which was positioned at the side of the house. There was another by the garage and another by the stables. Hopefully, it wouldn't spread that far.

Bruce watched in a daze as the men and women moved with a quick precision into the house. The hoses were on and while several firefighters aimed theirs at the attic, several others had begun hosing down the house and grounds to keep the fire from spreading. With all the noise and shouting going on, Bruce knew as soon as he heard the sound, that he shouldn't have been able to hear it. Still, it was clear and distinct to him. It snapped his head up and he stared at the flames shooting several feet into the air. His throat constricted, whether from smoke or some other cause he could not say. In a choked near whisper, Bruce uttered a single word. "Alfred."

Dick was dazed. He was having trouble concentrating. His limbs were getting heavier. His coughing spells were getting longer. He'd made it down to another landing and had stopped. He knew he should go on, and he would in a minute. He hadn't let go of Alfred, somehow he couldn't. He looked up now; hoping the smoke would be slightly dissipated. He was rewarded with the sight of the ceiling, which he was sure would have crashed down around his ears by now. Like the rest of my life. He shook his head to clear it. Where that thought had come from, he really didn't want to consider. Come on, you have work to do. He chastised himself for taking too long a rest. He must have been on that landing a good 15 seconds. A lifetime. As he descended, Dick became aware of movement below him. Straining to look while continuing downward, he though he saw a figure down there. No, it was several figures. He saw a large hat, an ax, and at least two or three people. Score one for the cavalry, or the firefighters, as the case may be. Just as he was about to shout in relief, something made him look up. A large section of the staircase above him was shaking violently. Dick could see flames had eaten through the wood in places and were hungrily devouring what was left. As he looked, he saw it getting closer. That was when he realized it was falling. Knowing he could save himself if he let go of Alfred and rolled blindly down the staircase, Dick never even considered doing such a thing. Instead, He threw himself up just enough to as much of Al as he could with his body. Eyes clamped shut, Dick yelled like his father and taught him "A little vocalization of the fear could help you relieve the pressure, son. It might even improve your concentration." That thought played in Dick's mind over and over, up until the time he felt himself falling. Then, unable to help himself as the aerialists worst fear played out and he was plummeting who knew how far, Dick passed out.

Commissioner Gordon sat at his desk trying to work out what to do about Bruce Wayne's stubbornness. The man was going to let himself be killed and there wasn't much Gordon could do about it. He pondered the Riddler's latest literary endeavor. The officers he'd sent to the stadium had reported nothing unusual. They'd searched everywhere, but had found nothing amiss, not even in the Wayne industries box seats which were being used by some of Wayne's employees. Apparently the man allowed everyone in his employ to go to one game a season in the company seats. Not a bad fringe benefit.

A knock sounded on the door to his office. Gordon knew who it would be. "Come in." He closed the file on his desk prepared to receive his secretary's run down on the events of the day. He was quite surprised, however, when the person at his door turned out to be Dr. Chase Meridian. "Doctor, what can I do for you?" He rose and put out his hand. Then he noticed how agitated she seemed to be.

"Commissioner, I just heard there's a fire at Wayne Manor. One of your officers was about to come in and tell you, but I said I would. I'm going down there anyway. I thought you might want to go with me."

Gordon barely answered. Grabbing his jacket, he ran for the door of his office, taking the good doctor's arm in one hand. "I'll get us there faster." Soon they were in a patrol car, lights flashing, siren blaring, and speeding down the highway towards the largest residential structure in Gotham. Before they were halfway there, they could already see the orange glow of flame and the black belching smoke. "Oh my God." was all Chase could whisper as she heard the commissioner order the patrolman to drive faster. She only hoped it was fast enough.

The ambulances were as close to the building as was safe. Bruce stood right between them staring stoically at the door to his home. This was the best place to be to see Alfred and Dick when they were finally pulled out of there. He had rarely been this scared in all his life. He couldn't imagine life without Alfred. Alfred had always been there for him. He would have been able to live without air before he could adjust to Alfred's absence. And Dick was another matter entirely. He already blamed himself for Dick's family's demise. Adding Dick to the list of people he'd managed to kill or hurt in his lifetime would push him over the edge, and he knew it.

There was activity now near the door, Bruce took a few steps forward and, sure enough, he could just make out a shape being carried over the shoulder of a firefighter. The paramedics were there immediately with a stretcher ready. They administered oxygen to the firefighter as well. Breaking into a run, Bruce pushed through several of the people who were running to and from the house. He didn't want to disturb the paramedics, but he had to see who they had pulled out of the inferno that was once his home.

Peering around the shoulder of one of the medical professionals, Bruce finally identified the patient. "Alfred!" He yelled in relief. Tears ran down his face freely in a release he hadn't known he was capable of producing. He quickly answered any questions the medics had about Alfred's general health.

As they loaded his old friend into one of the waiting ambulances, Bruce could constrain himself no longer. "How is he?"

The medic looked up at him, brushing a strand of hair back from her eyes. "He's lucky. It could have been a lot worse." Seeing Bruce's relief, she hastened to add, "He's not out of the woods yet. It could be touch and go for a while. Do you want to go with him?" she asked, as they were about to shut the ambulance door.

Bruce considered it, but shook his head. "No, I have to wait to seeI have to wait."


TBC