Dancing in the Flames

By: Waikiki23

Summary: He didn't know how he got here, but he knew he had to participate in the dance or he would not live to see another day.

A/N - Okay, so I know I have other stories going on, but this one has been in the back of my mind for the past few weeks. I don't own anything. I hope you all enjoy this story. Please read and review.

A/N 2- Thank you to the guest who pointed out that I needed to expand the story some. After I re-read it, I agree. So this is the re-written version.

Hot.

That was the one word that flooded his mind when opened his eyes and looked around. The area immediately around him was dark, but an orange glow was edging its way towards him, taunting him with its beauty. He knew he had to get out of the room he was in, but how, he just didn't know.

It was a factory fire, one with a lot of chemicals. And there had been quite a few workers missing, as the foreman didn't have his paperwork with him and couldn't get a headcount. He and his partner had been checking for victims near the back of the factory, where there were offices, but there was no one in his direction. The last thing he remembered was entering the last office, seeing the fire licking up the walls and turning to leave when he heard the ominous but recognizable sound of the floor above start to give way. He didn't know anything after that until he woke up.

I have to get out of here!

He tried to get up, but something was holding him down. He looked in behind him as best as he could, seeing a floor joist pinning his right leg down. He started taking stock of the situation he now found himself in. His head was hurting worse than when he came to. What had started as a dull throb was now steadily becoming a horrible pounding, like someone was using his head for batting practice. Head injury, great! he thought sarcastically. Automatic night at Rampart coming my way. He had been thrown face down, his helmet and air mask thankfully still in place. He moved his arms with not much difficulty or pain, grateful that there was nothing broken there. His back was starting to hurt; he guessed that a piece of the flooring must have fallen on him at one point.

The orange glow began taunting him again, this time seeming to coax him to follow it. He knew it was absurd, since the orange was fire. He pushed the odd thoughts out of his head as he began to shove backward with his free leg on the joist, the wood unforgiving. He tried lifting it, but the board was wedged under a piece of the flooring. He stopped for a moment, trying to catch his breath. For some reason it was starting to get difficult to breath normally through his air mask. Possible broken ribs, maybe punctured lung. Yeah, I'm going to be spending a few days in Rampart.

It was then he could feel the rubble shift slightly, the joist moving just enough to the left that a gap opened up underneath it. He maneuvered his leg towards the gap, hoping is was enough to pull it out.

After a moment or two, he was finally able to pull himself free, and just in time too. The orange glow was now rapidly turning into the raging fire that had started in the corner of the room he was trapped in. He laid on the floor, his energy sapped from the exertion he had put forth just to free himself.

I have to get out of here!

He stood up, almost falling forward as he felt a stabbing pain in his leg that had been trapped. He cried out in pain finding a wall he could lean on for a moment. Lovely, possible broken leg.

He shook his head, the headache getting worse by the minute. Concussion, he thought to himself as he was able to get a better look around him, the urgent need to flee intensifying as the fire was beginning to burn everything in its path, heading in his direction.

He must have stood too long staring at the fire and taking stock of his situation because the beast had moved rapidly in in less than two minutes. He was too close, as flames began licking at his turnout coat and pants. Hurriedly he tried to smother the flames as he backed up a few feet from the intensifying fire. He grimaced in pain as he quenched the fire that almost engulfed him. He noticed that his turnouts were singed and he could feel what he thought was sweat rolling down his neck and back, his hands strangely numb.

He faltered in his movements, trying to feel his way around the room. He finally felt the opening and stumbled his way out and into the smoke filled hallway. He looked both ways, disoriented by the smoke and the headache and the burning from his hands that was making it impossible for him to concentrate, finally deciding that he needed to go to the left.

Get out! Get out! That was the only thing his mind was shouting to him over and over as he moved as far away as possible from the fire that had started on his end of the building.

He willed himself to move forward, unsteadily at best with an injured leg. His progress was slow; he was staggering from the injuries that were starting to take their toll on him.

I gotta keep moving! Can't stop; gotta keep moving!

He could hear voices faintly at the end of the hall, but they were being drowned out by the roar in his head and the fire behind and in front of him. He didn't see the debris in the floor, tripping over it. He feel to his knees, hissing in pain as he landed badly on his bad leg.

He finally staggered back to his feet, blackness threatening to overtake him. Keep it together man! Your almost there! He was faintly aware of voices shouting at him and hands grabbing him as his legs became like jello, pitching him forward as he lost consciousness.