A/N: I'm churning these out faster than expected, but if it starts taking longer for new chapters, blame it on college. Anyway, R&R'ing is much, much appreciated. I'd love feedback, so I can tell how to make my story better!

Oh, and I realize there are several typos in my last chapters, but I'm too lazy to go in an fix them. If it really bothers anyone, I might, but it shouldn't be too big a deal.

Chapter Three

Jack

"So… how exactly did this happen?" I asked, glancing around at the surrounding cave. "I know I didn't jump here on purpose." I also had a feeling Griffin knew—he had that smug look on his face that guys tended to wear when they knew something you didn't.

"Let me guess; you were tryin' to Jump to a bar in London, yeah?" It was less a question than a statement, but I nodded. "Figured. I was too. My guess is, we were Jumping to the same place at the same time, and went through each other's Jump scars. Ain't really heard of it before, but that's the only explanation. I wound up in your apartment."

It probably bothered me that he'd seen my apartment (small and temporary though it is) for the same reason he'd been bothered by my presence here. But judging by how quickly he'd Jumped here to shout at me, he hadn't gotten more than a cursory glance, so it wasn't really a problem. Besides, I didn't think I'd left any of my underwear lying around. I realized he had started talking again, and tuned in.

"So, now that you've got your explanation, you can fuck off now." Griffin Jumped, and I turned again, watching as he appeared on his couch, picking up a video game controller.

"That's it?" I asked, wondering why I was getting the brush off.

"What's it?" he replied, his eyes glued to his television screen.

Shaking my head when a sigh, I walked over to where he was sitting (I liked walking occasionally, it made me feel like less of a freak), and sat beside him on the couch—keeping as much distance between us as I could. "You're just gonna tell me to shove off without the courtesy of explaining some of this stuff to me?"

"I already told you what you wanted to know. And yeah, that's the plan." Was it just me, or did he seem to be completely deliberately not looking at me? I mentally shook my head—I must be getting paranoid.

I shook my head. "Look, I don't want much out of you, Birdie," I said—I'm not usually the confrontational type, but Griffin's attitude was really starting to get my back up, "but I've never seen anyone else like me before. I don't know who those people are," I pointed to the wall, upon which I could see several pictures of men (and a few women), some of whom had tried to kill me, "and I don't know why I've been having to run for my life since I was twelve. So I'm sorry if I thought you had the answers." Here was where I got to my master stroke—I only hoped that his ego matched his attitude problem. "I guess I was wrong to think you can help me. You're probably as lost about all this as I am." I stood as though I were about to jump, trying not to be too obvious about stalling; I needn't have worried.

"Wait," he said, with a heavy sigh as he put down his game controller and turned to look at me. Or rather, look near me. His eyes seemed to be focused just over my left shoulder, unless I was imagining things; which, I admit, was quite likely. "I can help ya—if you promise to leave me alone after. I can probably teach you how to fight 'em off, too, if only so you don't die as quickly. They've already gotten to too many of us."

"Your vote of confidence is overwhelming," I said dryly; holding my tongue was never my strong suit. "I've managed to survive for seven years, when I was positive I was alone."

Griffin shrugged and turned back to his TV. "Fine then, I guess you don't need me after all."

Well shit. Open foot, insert mouth. I hated apologizing, but I didn't want to miss this opportunity, either. "I'm… sorry. It's just a little shocking for me, is all," I replied, swallowing the repertoire of insults and retorts in favor of not cutting off my nose to spite my face, for once.

Griffin smirked at me, but thankfully didn't rescind his offer of help. "I've got one word for your survival rate up to now—pure, dumb luck."

"That's three words—"

"Whatever, you know what I mean," he said, cutting me off, though I thought I saw amusement pass through his eyes (which still refused to meet mine; call me crazy, but I'm an eye-contact kinda person—I like feeling that the person I'm speaking with is actually paying attention, y'know?). "You've been lucky," he continued, "but that won't last forever. Sooner or later, you'll be in a real battle, and you'll be taken down in five seconds, if you don't know how to fight them."

"Even if their electricity doesn't really affect me?" I asked, honestly curious. I knew that they had other weapons at their disposal, but the one time I'd been attacked, the first thing thrown at me was their electric rope. It stabbed into me and hurt, but the electricity didn't affect me at all, except tickle a little, and I Jumped away without any trouble. I was twelve at the time, and had just seen my family killed, but I'd been Jumping since I was five, and had tons of Jump sites all over the country. I Jumped all around America before settling in an unoccupied penthouse in New York. I haven't had a steady home since.

I hadn't thought there was much I could say that would startle a man like Griffin, but what I'd said obviously had done so. His eyes widened slightly, and, almost as though forgetting himself, he looked me directly in the eye. The contact didn't last long, but I thought I saw pain flicker in the depths of his eyes, before he glanced away, again looking just over my shoulder. I decided I'd been imagining things. "It… doesn't affect you?" he asked, plainly surprised.

I shrugged. "Not really. It tickles a little, but that's about it. The stab itself hurts," I added on reflection, "but it doesn't keep me from Jumping." I almost spilled the fact that I couldn't even be out in the rain without my body going haywire, but I didn't know this man, even if I thought I needed his help. I wasn't ready to trust him with something that could destroy me.

The bastard guessed anyway. "What about water?" he asked, and while I didn't respond, he apparently saw the answer written on my face; I inwardly cursed the expressive dark green eyes I'd inherited from my mother. "Thought as much. Haven't seen one of you in a long time; last guy I knew got dunked trying to Jump a Paladin into the Pacific and couldn't jump out again. Poor guy died." Eugh. I hadn't thought about it like that before. So just how, exactly, was I supposed to get the upper hand here? Especially if the Paladins found out about my fatal weakness. Once again, Griffin seemed to know what was on my mind. "If you're careful, it'll take the Paladins a long time to find out. They will eventually—like they figured out about using electricity against us in the first place—but until then, you'll be able to take a lot of 'em down. And once they do find out, they'll have to figure how to make water guns with enough force to take you down, or how to force you to Jump into a lake. You're fairly safe—for now. But they'll realize—probably already have, in fact—that electricity won't work on you, so they'll bring normal artillery along. You'll have to learn to fight 'em if you want to survive your next meeting with 'em."

Wow. I hadn't pegged Griffin for the speech-giving type, but I kept my mouth shut this time. I didn't want him to clam up on me. "So… what will you teach me?" I asked instead.

"First, the quarter-staff," he replied, pointing at a long, heavy stick in one—could it really be called a corner?—of his cave. "I'll find ya another one. Very effective for Jumping and landing painful, injure-inducing hits."

I snorted; I doubted that Griffin would be able to teach me anything there. "I already know how to fight with a staff," I informed him, pride in every aspect of my tone and stature. I'd taken lessons as a kid, and continued them under a false name when I had to leave home.

The smirk on Griffin's face unnerved me slightly. "We'll see about that. Come back tomorrow. Not too early, mind; if I'm asleep and you wake me up, I'm as apt to take your head off as look at you."

"I'll be there." I tried to sound sure of myself, but I couldn't help but wonder, as I Jumped back to my current apartment, just what he had up his sleeve.