I don't normally do crossovers, and I've never written a Jumper story before, but since I saw Death Note and Jumper, I keep thinking that Griffin and Matto have a lot in common. So I decided to see what happens when you put them together. :)

SPOILERS: serious late-series spoilers for Death Note, plot-related spoilers for Jumper. You should probably read/watch both DN and Jumper before reading this story or you won't find it terribly interesting--at the least you'll be slightly lost. *wink*

This is "Chapter one." I'm hoping to continue it eventually, if anyone shows interest.

NEWS for those of you waiting for updates on Riddle's Legacy and the Journey Home: I have decided I can afford a computer and I hope to have a new one within a couple of weeks! This means I may finally get back in gear and update those ancient stories! (omg spaz!)

Disclaimers: Jumper, Griffin, Death Note, Mail Jeevas, Nintendo DS and Pokemon Emerald are definitely not mine. Jael Malorie certainly is mine.

Griffin walked down a street in Japan, munching the hot dog he'd gotten from a street vendor in New York, and prepared to jump back to his lair. Then he heard squealing tires. A bright red car had barely made the turn from the corner in front of him and now it was careening right toward him.

It was no trouble to jump from the street to the narrow sidewalk, but Griffin scowled at the car as it sped past. Then he heard more tires squealing and turned to see two cars fishtail around the corner after the first.

Always one to appreciate a good car chase, Griffin jumped to a rooftop to watch the progress of the first car. Wonder if he'll make it. Bloke's not a bad driver. He jumped along from one building to another, keeping the car and its pursuers in sight.

Oh, rotten luck, Griffin thought, seeing that there were several black cars converging on the first car's location. Looks like he's had it. Even the best driver can't get through a solid wall of cars.

Sure enough, the red car was soon surrounded by a tight ring of sinister-looking black ones. The driver stepped out and Griffin noted his interesting taste--red and black striped shirt under a warm-looking vest, goggles. He was smoking a cigarette. The other drivers got out, too, and levelled guns at the young man with the stripes.

He looks like just a kid... wonder why they're after him. Griffin couldn't hear what the kid was saying. Apparently it didn't impress the men in suits, because they gunned him down a moment later. "Oh... crap, that's definitely not fair..."

Next thing he knew, the sleek black cars were leaving.

"He's dead," Griffin muttered to himself. "Gotta be dead." He took another bite of his hot dog. "Mmm.... might as well make sure." He wrapped the hot dog carefully and put it in his pocket before jumping down beside the victim who lay beside his car.

"Hey, you... you alive?"

No response.

Griffin knelt, grimacing as he touched what he was sure was a corpse. Looks like the head wound is just a graze... but he's got... how many holes in his chest? Not good.

He wasn't sure why he cared, but Griffin put two fingers to the victim's throat and waited.

Good God, he's still... wait, did I imagine it? There it is! He's alive! There was only one thing for it. Griffin pulled the boy up into his arms and jumped to a hospital in Liverpool, England.

"Somebody get over here, this man's dying!" Griffin shouted as soon as the familiar ER came into view. "You've got maybe two minutes!"

An EMT and a nurse rushed to the place Griffin was standing, hunched under the weight of his blood-soaked burden.

"There's no way," the EMT muttered. "Looks to me like his heart and both lungs..."

"Shut up and get to work, SOB," Griffin snapped. "Bring me a gurney and get Doctor Malorie on this--he's her patient." Lying was so easy. And so was giving orders. You can convince people too many blackberries will turn their skin purple if you say it with enough confidence.

Lies or no, the gurney appeared in moments, and Dr. Malorie was soon walking briskly alongside it toward the ICU.

"You can't come back here," she told Griffin.

"Right. Sorry." He hung back until he was sure no one would notice, then jumped ahead to the operating room.

"Who are you?!" Doctors demanded.

"Next of kin," Griffin said. "Your patient may need a blood transfusion. I've gotta be on-hand--he doesn't look good."

Soon Dr. Malorie and her assistants were pushing Matt's gurney through the doors to the OR. "Why are you here?" she demanded in a dangerous tone when she saw Griffin.

"Like I said, next of kin--in case of blood transfusion..."

The lady doctor shook her head. "When this is over, I am going to kill you. Do you even know this guy's blood type?"

"No," Griffin admitted. "But please save him."

"He doesn't look like he's related to you," she muttered, getting down to business as the nurses pulled the boy's clothes back. "I'd say he looks Asian."

"Um... he was adopted."

"In that case your blood transfusion argument goes out the window--which is where I'd like to send you."

"Couldda been worse," Griffin muttered.

"Seriously," Malorie said, fastening on a surgical mask, "you can't do any good here. But you could sure mess things up. Please wait in the waiting room."

He knew she was right. Griffin slunk out of the OR and jumped back to the waiting room. He'll probably be in there for hours, he thought. Unless he dies, of course. He looked around the room at the worried friends and family of the patients who had been brought to the ER that day. I don't belong here...

A moment later he was back in Japan--back at the bright red car which now had several holes in the hood and windshield. Sort of lousy car... he was at a disadvantage to begin with... looks like a bloody stick-shift. He leaned in the driver's door, which had been standing open since he left. Junker. Pretty clean, though. Hey... He crawled onto the seat and leaned down to retrieve something from the floor of the passenger's side. Is this a DS? Wicked. He'll want this back. He checked the glove compartment, but there was nothing useful--no vehicle registration or even an operator's manual.

He turned on the DS and found Pokemon Emerald paused in the middle of a battle. He smiled. I remember this game. Think I've still got it someplace...

Griffin pulled out what was left of his hot dog and ate it thoughtfully, wandering around the Japanese back streets, wondering who his young protege was.

"Griffin?"

Griffin opened his eyes immediately. Very few people knew his name. Who was calling him?

"Your friend--we've gotten all the bullets out."

He blinked. "My... fr-- Hey, what time is it?"

Dr. Malorie checked her watch. "It's about five a.m. You slept in that chair all night?"

"Not quite.... So, you got the bullets out. So, he's alive."

"For now. But there's no telling how long he'll last. We had to give him a bypass while we repaired his aorta and things don't look good for his right lung. He really needs a new heart, but there isn't one available, so we're trying to patch the one he's got."

"What are his chances?"

She sighed. "Around five percent, I'd say."

One in twenty... geez, I thought that was about what he had when I first brought him in. Is he really going to die on me after all that? "OK," he said. "I guess... we just have to hope. I know you'll do your best."

She sat in the chair next to his. "Before I fall over from exhaustion, can you tell me something about this guy? How do you know him? What happened to him?"

"Listen, love," Griffin said, turning toward her, "I'll tell you the truth, but I really need you to promise you won't tell anyone how I'm involved..."

She slapped him hard. "You have no right to ask anything from me," she said, keeping her voice quiet, but maintaining a dangerous tone. "It's been what--three years? And suddenly you show up again. And all you can do is ask favors. No apology, no explanation, no warning! And you expect me to just help you out..."

"I'm sorry. I left to protect you. And I couldn't give warning--the guy was shot like bloody fifteen times."

Dr. Malorie leaned forward and put her head in her hands, massaging her temples. "Just tell me, please. I need to know where this guy came from."

"I can't give details. I think he's from Japan. I dunno who shot him or why--it was a bunch of guys--ten at least. But don't bother telling the police that, because they won't find a trace of them around here. It'd be a wild goose chase."

"How did you get him here so fast?"

"That's a detail," Griffin said. "I'm sorry, Jael. I really am. But it wouldn't make sense even if I explained it. I don't know the guy. I just saw him get shot and decided to see if I could save him."

"Out of the goodness of your heart?" she asked skeptically.

He shrugged. "If he ever wakes up, he'll tell you he doesn't know me. That's the truth."

"It's really fishy."

"I agree, but I can't help it." He eyed her a moment. "Look... I know it was really low--the way I left you all of a sudden. But there are things you don't know about me. Things I can't tell you. I've never been able to stick with any girl more than a date or two. It's not because I'm scared of the relationship. It's because there are people who would hurt you to get to me. I don't want to do that to you. Or anyone."

"I don't understand," Jael said, her head still in her hands. "It sounds too crazy to be true--and too convenient an excuse."

"Would you rather I lied to you?"

"I can't tell when you're lying anyway. It probably wouldn't make much difference." She stood slowly. "I need to go home and get some sleep. You should, too."

He waited until she left the room. Then he jumped to his lair for a nap.

Don't forget to let me know if you enjoyed it and if you would like to see more on this idea!