A/N: Forgive what are probably some very obvious fact-mistakes here please. I don't really have any idea how these situations normally work.


It was still sort of hard to not feel even a little excited when the alarm rang. Tristan knew that it was bad to be happy when it was a fire destroying someone's home but...but the key word in his first thoughts were still always "fire!" and not "destroying." A second was all he needed to tamp down the emotion, but he still felt guilty every time it cropped up.

Like now. A level two fire in a civilian area--only one house so far but still, it was someone's house. He scrambled into the car, alongside the other five heading out. Mike was driving again, and Tristan and the others apprehensively watched for smoke as they neared their destination.

It was only once the truck, sirens blazing, pulled into a very familiar-looking subdivision that Tristan thought oh, no and then you've got to be kidding me. Those thoughts both left while him and his mates rushes to do what they could to get the flames under control. Luckily the fire was pretty well-contained on the south side of the house and hadn't spread that much.

He was helping spray down one side when two very agitated baby griffins came screeching down the lawn to scratch and pull at his ankles. The two look flustered and sooty, their feathers rumpled and up, sticking every which way. They were screaming at him at the top of their very strong griffin lungs, and Tristan only hoped that Richard had managed to get that disguise-as-stupid-cats charm he had mentioned to actually work this time.

Then he stopped dead. The griffins were upset for a reason. Richard. He must be home and in that burning house somewhere.

"Shit! I think there's someone home," he yelled at the guys. "I'm heading in!" He was always the one to go into flames first--they knew he had some weird luck when it came to fire. Yanking his mask down he ran to the side door of the house, kicked it in, and headed inside.

Hot.

Powerful.

Happy.

Shit, shit, no, not happy, bad! Very bad! Danger! For someone anyway, if not for him. He quickly pulled his mask off--Tristan only needed to wear it for show and it really inhibited his sense-- and started picking his way through the flames. There was a funny smell attached to the smoke, and he found himself following it.

The smell led him straight to the kitchen and to Richard, the latter on the floor soem sort of shield blocking most of the heat of the flames. Tristan let himself be impressed by the Grimalkin's use of some common sense, especially since he was stuck in the middle of a fire with seemingly no way out. A small window had been cracked open and Tristan spotted some feathers caught on the sill; apparently Richard had forced his griffins out so that they could escape.

What a way to get a second meeting. "Come on," he said, stepping through the barrier and bending down to strap the mask over Richards face. "Let's go." Richard stood up, swaying from something that did not seem to be just from smoke inhalation. Speaking of smoke, the smell had gotten much stronger and much more familiar. He glanced at the counter and spotted a large, greasy looking stain next to a garden window-box that had undoubtedly once been fresh leaves. God. "Figures. Catnip for cooking I will never understand you cats." Richard mumbled something but Tristan missed it in favor of leading the man outside. "Come on, come on, almost there."

Stepping out of the house into the sun and turning back just in time to see Mike and Jason douse the last of the flames. He felt the unhappy pull of all that pretty fire gone but it was for the best, it was. Still supporting Richard, Tristan quickly surveyed the damage. It wasn't as bad as it could have been--the garage would probably need to be redone and the kitchen too, or at least parts of it, but the house would stay standing and probably even pass the safety support inspection.

Helping Richard remove the mask, Tristan then let go of his shoulders in the hopes that he'd be able to stand on his own. Richard managed it, but he was blinking funny and his eyes were unfocused. Tristan sighed and rubbed his face. "You're high as hell, aren't you." It wasn't a question. If the Grimalkin had been in that house with smoke contaminated with a giant bunch of burned catnip, the guy must be stoned out of his mind.

Jason came over to them, "Fire's out and we packed up, Tristan. Is he okay? Need medical?"

"I think it's just shock. Hey, Richard," Tristan snapped his fingers, "What do you want me to do?"

"You know him?"

"Uh, sorta. Mike and I were a couple of days ago for a cat rescue." Tristan looked at Richard again and sighed. "He's pretty out of it--probabaly should call medical though he's not coughing. I'll call in." He pulled out his cell and dialed quickly. The ambulance coming for Richard would know how to handle a Grimalkin high off of catnip .

The wait was a short one thankfully, and soon an ambulance came blazing into the division. It looked right to the normals, but the faint sheen let everyone else know that these guys were doctors who actually knew what they were doing.

The vehicle pulled up and two people came came out to help Richard inside. After he was safely in, one came up to Tristan.

"Excuse me sir," she said to Tristan, "but if I could just clarify a few things with you?"

Jason nodded at him and headed back to the truck, knowing he wouldn't be needed for this. Once he was out of hearing range, Tristan turned back to the woman.

"Hi Sylvia," he said. "Nothing big--I'm pretty sure he's not burned or anything; he had some pretty strong shield's up that blocked the heat and stuff, but he got a good face full of smoke at least and it was laced with catnip. I mean heavily--there was a whole pile of the burned stuff in there from some herb box thing. He's pretty out of it."

The phoenix nodded. "Then we'll keeep him for observation and out of normal eye till he calms down." She raised an eyebrow. "Should we take them with us too?"

"Them wh--oh." Tristan followed her gaze to start down at Mark and Mandy. The babies were squalling again and trying to climb into the ambulance. He wondered how he had managed to tune them out. "Yeah, probably. They're his kids." Her eyebrow cimbed higher. "Adoptive kids, Sylvia! Said something about looking after them for the parents last time we met."

"You met him before?"

"Yeah--look," he snuck a look to the truck where the guys were waiting. "I gotta go. I'll fill you in later if you want--we can meet for coffee or something. And here," he dug out a card. "Give that to him when he comes out of it, will you? The guy'll probably need some help and I know all the non-normals in the business.

Sylvia tucked the card into her pocket. "Will do." She looked to the house. "Bad fire?"

"Not too bad, but I'm sure he'd appreciate having a helping hand to deal with it, or at least to tell him who to call. The fire we took care of fast and the flames died easy." He glanced sadly back to the house before shaking himself out of it. "Whatever, you go do your phoenix healling stuff, i gotta get back to work."

Tristan left Richard and the ambulance behind and clambered into the truck, his mind once again straying back to the fire against his will. I am so having barbeque for dinner tonight, he thought mutinously.