Summary: David left Griffin trapped between transformers. So, what happened to Griffin?
Warnings: Could be some language. Not enough slash'iness - but on the other hand, it's not exactly the right place for Griffin either.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Jumper, characters or anything else associated.
A/N: Response to the 100 Fic Ultimate Challenge at jumperslash. The prompts I used - #5 battlefield and #6 abandoned but controlled.

Aftermath

It wasn't long since he had been left here. He tried to jump and he failed. Again. It was hot. He was sweaty as if he had just come from a shower. Griffin absent-mindedly wondered if a couple of drops of his own sweat were going to end this for him once and for all. He tried again and everything became dark for a moment. He wasn't a fucking plaything that could be jumped somewhere. He could and he would come and go as he pleased. He tried again.

The scream that tore from him was drowned by the sounds of gunfire and war yet it hurt a little bit less when he let that out. He knew that he wouldn't be able to stand if he were let down now. He could hardly see – recognizing where was the earth and where the sky was far above his abilities at the moment. He didn't remember what he had said to David. It seemed like something important but there was only haze and pain in his world now. Maybe he hadn't said something important? He usually didn't. Griffin knew he was pretty bad with words but, hey – that's him. Everybody is entitled to have some flaws.

He couldn't move. He could hardly think. He could barely breathe. Every breath seemed to become less natural and more like a chore. The very air seemed electrified and it hurt. It felt like his lungs were going to turn into mush and he couldn't help but wonder if it would get better if he'd stop for a moment. If he'd just hold a breath or two, maybe the pressure would lessen.

He had been electrified before but there just was no 'getting used to'. He was bad with words and he found it hard to explain how exactly it feels. It was pain and fatigue but firstly – shock. When electricity traveled through a body every single receptor reacted, the brain recognized the sensation in less than a second and then came the pain. It spread from one place to the whole body till the person felt like escaping from their own skin. It fried a person from inside. It caused terrible cramps and finally if a person manages to escape with their insides and muscle tissues intact – there's the fatigue.

Fatigue, helplessness and desperation. Nothing causes depression like a nice, good electrocution. Griffin would have snorted if he'd been aware of his lips. He let out a shallow breath and closed his unseeing eyes.

It was night when he opened his eyes again. There were no stars; at least, he couldn't see them. Maybe it was his eyes – maybe he'd never see properly again. A light breeze of a chilly west wind caressed his cheek. He didn't know whether it was the night of the same day or some other already. He felt better. If one accepts general loss of feeling as being better. He wanted something to drink – preferably a soda. He needed water. He tried to shift into a bit different position - vain attempt to improve his situation. His movements were uncoordinated and his leg hit the transformer yet no sparks came from it. The power had been turned off. Awfully kind from the guys who couldn't take the time to pry him off, on the other hand they were at war and had other things to do. Once in a while one has to make some hard choices, some sacrifices. Weren't those his words? He should understand. After all, he was at a whole war on his own.

He was free to jump yet he had no strength left to do so. He lay trapped between the transformers like a puppet doll. A Marvel hero, indeed. David had used him. Griffin knew that yet he couldn't bring himself to be angry. Irritated, slightly offended, probably amused and generally annoyed, yes, but not angry. Still he supposed that he would deck the kid if he'd see him again.

He didn't know how long he laid there staring in the starless night sky, though it couldn't be too long, else it would be a morning already – when he started to feel his fingers. It wasn't much but he was pleased to know that he wasn't completely paralyzed. Along with feeling came soreness and itching and other aches. Moving his fingers seemed weird. It was like learning he had them all over again. Griffin huffed. Now that air came and left his lungs more easily, he could afford to do that. He was reduced to identifying with a newborn. That wasn't … good. That certainly didn't make him happy.

He was cold. He wanted to jump to the lair. He couldn't. Even if the paladins weren't there at the moment they knew of that place, courtesy of David, and it wasn't secret anymore. It wasn't safe. It couldn't provide him the protection he needed to recuperate. And he needed to recuperate.

Come morning the temperature dropped even lower. He really did hate the Chechnya. If for nothing else, then for the weather. It wasn't long until he was shivering from cold. Funny, how previously he had thought he was going to be a jumper barbecue and now he was something closer to auntie's frozen dinner leftovers.

He didn't pass out anymore although he would have preferred few more blissfully unconscious hours considering that it wasn't going to get warmer until sunrise. Griffin didn't stay to watch the sunrise. He jumped as soon as he could.

He collapsed in his bed in the lair. Old habits die hard. He was exhausted, cold and in pain. He couldn't think of another, better place to go to despite all the shortcomings the lair now had. He made a move to cover himself. All the paladins could come crashing in on his head and he found that he couldn't care less in the moment. He was home. And all he wanted now was to get warm and to get some sleep.