Disclaimer: The boys and Jumper in general do not belong to me.
David blinked, sitting up slowly and taking stock of his surroundings. For the second time today he found himself in the non-fiction section of the Ann Arbor public library.
"Did I just… teleport?" he found himself asking the deserted stacks. "CLOSED DUE TO WATER DAMAGE" the sign read. Shrugging off the minor guilt, he climbed to his feet and made his way to the exit. There was a moment of panic before he discovered how to will himself outside the security bars, then taking a deep breath he pushed further and with a sharp displacement of air, materialized in his own bedroom. Drawing a heavy, astonished breath, he slammed his door shut, one ear tuned to the voices outside his window; his father talking to the police. Apparently they thought he was already missing, and if his mother could run away… He'd barely even consciously made his decision before he was rooting around his secret cubby hole, digging out his emergency stash and hurriedly stuffing that and a bunch of clothes into a duffle.
His frantic shuffling had unearthed and old box full of trinkets and memories. The topmost item had always been one of his most prized and secret possession; a photo of himself and his mother, taken on a long-ago visit to the Empire State Building in New York. The sight stopped David dead in his tracks, reaching for the picture in its cheap, worn frame. Neither of them had been focused on the camera, his father having taken the shot more for its candid nature than anything. David found himself dropping onto his mattress, using his free hand to pull his duffle into his lap, before running a finger lightly over the woman's face. Most of his memories of her were hazy with time and distance, but that day stood out like a beacon.
He remembered the long, long trip.
("Are we there yet? Are we there yet mommy?"
"Not yet baby, but soon, I promise")
He remembered the warmth of her hand as she'd led him, the unending elevator ride to the top, the sharp bite of the wind on his face, the tiny little ant-cars and ant-people below. He remembered her touch and the smell of her hair as she'd lifted him for a better look. The lump in David's throat was the size of a lemon and his eyes burned as he held back tears. Ten long years since that time…
It was only then that David was aware of the whole world shaking. No, just his room was shaking, jagged cracks running up the walls, dust shaking from the ceiling. Outside the window there was a startled cry, the sudden disturbance drawing the attention of his father and the officers. He heard them make for the front door…
Then he slammed painfully onto the harsh concrete butt first, the force of his arrival leaving a fairly impressive crater, cracks cob-webbing across a good section of the ground around him. Groaning, David shoved his duffle off him onto the shattered ground next to him, sluggishly taking to his feet. A quick glance around confirmed his suspicions. He was indeed on viewing deck of the Empire State building. It was nighttime, the place devoid of the usual tourists. David turned slowly in a circle, taking in the place he'd remembered so vividly, finding it pretty much unchanged. Save for the renovations David himself had just performed by accident. And of course, the boy sitting on the rail about twenty feet to his left, dressed in a battered hoodie and jeans, fingers of tousled dark hair brushing his forehead, the heavy flood light nearby casting deep shadows on a face no older than David's own. He was watching David with a level eye, expression solemn, and chicken nugget poised in mid dunk. It took David's poor, overwhelmed brain a moment to realize what he was seeing, causing him to pause, blinking comically, before flailing a little in shock.
The other boy must've found his awkwardness amusing, because he let out a harsh bark of laughter, like the crack of thunder in the quiet air. A quick motion had the aforementioned chicken nugget stuffed whole into his mouth, masticating furiously and McDonald's bag left abandoned as he hopped off the rail and made his way over to David.
"Y'know," the boy began in a musical British accent when he'd crossed about half the distance between them and finished chewing, "y'keep landing like that and you'll draw all sorts of attention. The wrong kind, mind you." Stopping only a foot away from David, uncomfortably in his personal space, the boy slouched casually, predatory hazel cat-eyes fixed solidly on David's own and belaying his relaxed demeanor. The boy still held in his left hand the tiny container of… honey, it seemed, that he'd been dipping his nuggets into. While David watched, speechless, the boy took his right index finger, and with all the grace of a seasoned dancer, dipped it in the honey, straight to the bottom. Entranced, David held eye contact with the strange teen as the finger was raised into the space between them, glossy with the sweet syrup, a slight twitch of the hand making the gesture an offering.
"Want some?" The boy's light baritone was melodic in the stillness, his breath fogging the air in the late November chill. David struggled, mouth working without coordination as he searched for his voice. He managed to croak out a weak "No, thanks" that squeaked a bit in the middle, causing an instant hot blush to heat his face. The boy grinned a little feral grin, before proceeding to take his own finger in between his full lips in an action so suggestively obscene it made David's stomach twist in a way that felt a little too warm and inviting to be discomfort. David watched wide-eyed, as twice more the boy repeated the action, the two never breaking eye contact until David drew a ragged breath and looked off to the side, stepping back a little to put another few inches of much needed space between them, and allowing him to clear his head enough to speak.
"Um, attention?" Ok, not and intelligent reply, but since his brain felt dangerously close to relocating itself in his lower head, he figured he deserved a little bit of slack. The other boy seemed overly amused by David's antics, which only drove David's flush deeper as he nodded in agreement.
"When you jump, genius. Pop from one place to another? Appear out of nowhere and startle poor innocent kids like me near off our dinner? You keep making such splashy entrances and they're going to find you" David felt the first stirring of cold creep into his chest at the non-nonsense tone in the other's voice.
"They?" He asked, knowing he wasn't going to like the answer. The other boy has his moment to look surprised now, momentarily forgetting his snack as he gaped at David. After searching David's open expression for a minute he seemed to come to an understanding.
"You have no clue, do you? About the Paladins, about the war, about any of it?" The teen was gesticulating freely now with both hands, and David watched with the sinking certainty of a man who knew what was coming next as the last little bit of honey in the cup slopped onto the hand that was holding it, right onto the fleshy part between thumb and forefinger. The boy stopped waving his hands immediately. Everything froze for a moment, time suspended in the microcosm between them, making David's barely audible "No" almost echo in the air. In the uncomfortable moment of silence that followed, David deliberately slide his eyes away from the heavy speculating gaze of the other, only to accidentally come to rest on the hand still hovering, the sticky-smear of honey still shining wetly and provocatively. David swallowed thickly and let his eyes dart back to the other's face. The teen must have read his mind, because the Cheshire grin was back full force.
"I can tell you everything, if you like. I can teach you, if you want, everything you need to survive, even give you a place to stay if you've got nowhere to go. Just tell me your name, and say yes." David felt like he'd been hit in the chest, losing all his breath in one long exhale. The boys face was pregnant with possibility.
"Your name first." David managed through a mouth suddenly desert-dry. The boy's grin turned a modicum more welcoming and he executed a little half-salute in greeting with the sticky hand, David's eyes tracking the motion almost hungrily.
"Griffin O'Conner, at your service brother."
"David Rice, I'm not your brother, and YES." With a quick motion David's hand snapped out and caught Griffin's, lifting it to his mouth; holding gently so it could be pulled away if its owner wanted. It wasn't, so David set his lips to the sugary smear, just for one little taste, Griffin's please chuckle warming the air.
Seconds later, after collecting the forgotten duffle, there was nothing left but a new crater and a crumpled fast food bag to tell of the late night visitors.
There you have it, the first in a series of what-could-have-beens. Hope everyone enjoyed!