Taming Chaos // J.M // The 100

Chapter 4

One of the first Earth things he'd added to his list of awed memories, was the ability to see the stars in all their glory.

Ethan couldn't explain how much he gets lost in watching them. With freedom in sight, slowly spin around, taking it all in.

He's not far, can still hear the boisterous chatter and even see the fires glow on the trees behind him.

The grass is wet to the touch when he takes a seat, the smell of damp soil and fresh grass inviting. It has him losing the battle of resistance and laying down, stretching his arms up high until his back is arching along with it.

Then, thoroughly stretched, he flattens against the dirt, arms cushioned behind his head.

He chews thoughtfully on the last piece of panther, trying to compare it to anything else he's eating. He finds he can't. Meat on the Ark isn't exactly real, just chemically made - and tastes like it too. He gets bored with twirling the twig in his hands, so he throws it away and stares at the darkness.

Captured photos and art could never compare.

It's calm here, no engine hum in his ears. Ethan's eyes land on a singular star, brighter than all others, and he wonders if it's the Ark.

Something shifts in the leaves.

There's a snap of a twig behind him.

Grounders? Ethan's levered onto his elbows, but he's too afraid to move any further, heart slamming against his ribcage.

He can only hope his brown shirt helps him blend into the Earth.

It doesn't.

And it's not a grounder.

"Go," He hears, whispered in the wind.

Ethan darts up, but they're quick, tackling him back down. His head slams against the dirt as it happens, leaving him disorientated, not enough to restrict his attempt at hitting - what - who -

Bellamy.

An overwhelming sense of dread slams into Ethan. He knows what he's here for.

"Fuck off-!"

He delivers a swift kick to Bellamy's knee, satisfied at the pained yell that greets his ears. He tries to back up, scrambling across the grass with a hand held up in front of him, "You can't be on my ass about what I want when you made the fucking rule!"

Ethan barely gets a foot away because Bellamy recovers quick, slamming a trained fist across his face. Knees are locking into place on either side of his hips and he knows he's done for.

Trapped.

When Ethan groans, blinking through the darkness, he knows by Bellamy's tense expression that he's prepared for any interruption. Despite this, Ethan goes for it anyway, "HELP-!"

But that tanned hand clamps down - in mere seconds - over his cry for help, preventing suspicion from camp.

Ethan grabs at his arm, tugging, yanking - but Bellamy smothers the attempt, slamming his metal embraced wrist into the ground until his bones creak in protest. Stunned, he thinks it's fine, because Bellamy can't hold him down and take his wristband off at the same time but then he hears him call out to another, "Murphy!"

Ethan can't breathe, his heart is thudding in his chest, his blood is pumping in his ears and he can't move because Bellamy is putting just a little too much pressure into his hold.

In a beat, Murphy's face is sneering down at him, ignoring the muffled curses Ethan is letting loose behind Bellamy's palm.

The same Murphy that stopped Ethan from falling to his death. He can't see the similarities.

All it took was a second of forgetfulness, a flash of misplaced confidence, and here Ethan finds himself.

"You had a chance to do this the easy way," Bellamy switches his grip, grabbing the hand that's clawing into his wrist so Murphy can work with the other.

The tool in his hand shines in the moonlight, Murphy digging a knee painfully into Ethan's arm to keep the rest steady.

"Now you pay the price for the food you took."

Bellamy's hand is gone, handing over a flashlight.

Ethan sucks in a quick breath, "Everything about about you is built on bullshit, Bellamy- just- leave it, please, c'mon!" His voice cracks, but with no shift in Bellamy's decision, he drops his head to plead for the other. "Murphy! Murphy, you don't have to suck up to the one in charge just to feel important-"

Murphy grits his teeth, whirling towards Bellamy, "Shut him up!"

"Go float yourself!" Ethan strains his neck, shifting his head away from Bellamy, slamming it back down into the ground to get away, "No- hey!"

Fingers dig hard into his jaw, clamping it shut.

The tool he's watched them use so many times before is cutting into his wrist, but Ethan refuses to take his eyes off of Bellamy's. He forbids the angry tears to fall, remaining unblinking, glaring, chest rising and falling quicker and quicker and quicker.

Bellamy looks away first, something in his eyes that gives Ethan a pinch of hope.

But he feels the pop of the metal unlocking, and his wrist exposed to the cold air. Squeezing his eyes shut, he lets his body slacken underneath Bellamy.

It was over.

His wrist is free, but Bellamy's hands remain.

"I'm sorry it had to be this way. But we need them to think you're dead."

The weight is gone off his hips and he can open his mouth again, sucking in the fresh air. Coughing painfully into his elbow.

He stares into the abyss of darkness and speckles of stars, purposefully not meeting the eyes of the two standing just above. Bellamy nods at Murphy and they turn around, the thud of the wristband being thrown to the ground has Ethan's eyes fluttering shut.

His chest burns, and his throat is dry, but he forces himself to get up. Turning in the direction of the dropship.

Clarke should still have her wristband, and that's what matters most.

He doesn't hear the scrape of clothes against bark. Someone that wasn't Murphy, or Bellamy.

Ethan avoids as many people as he can, keeps his head down, rushing into the dropship and climbing the ladder with forced calm.

He sees Clarke and Monty, heads swivelling towards him, but doesn't know what to say.

Clarke senses his discomfort and frowns as she stands, a lantern at the ready. She lifts it up to see his flushed face.

To answer her questioning expression, Ethan rolls his sleeve up. She sighs, shoulders slumping in time with his eyes, dropping to stare at his shuffling feet.

"I was careless." Ethan swipes a hand across his nose, "They got the jump on me."