Taming Chaos // J.M // The 100

Chapter 3

Ethan stares at the wristband, red droplets making a path down his wrist, reminding him just how far these people would go just because they wanted to.

He has to fight for this. Try as he might.

Bellamy's chest rises and falls quicker than usual. He sees that he's losing against Clarke's words and he hates it.

"We're stronger than you think," He moves away from his sister to address the crowd. "Don't listen to her. She's one of the privileged. If they come down, she'll have it good. How many of you can say the same?"

There are murmurs now, drifting among people.

"We can take care of ourselves. That wristband on your arm? It makes you a prisoner. We're not prisoners anymore. They say they'll forgive your crimes. . . but I say you're not criminals!"

An echo of "Yeahs!".

He's winning again. He knows exactly what he has to say to convince them.

To Ethan's chagrin, most of what he says is right. He's sure the Ark wouldn't hesitate to lock them back up again, even if Jaha has promised the opposite. Even if the hundred were on the ground first. 

But there's one thing Bellamy isn't mentioning.

Among the layers of corrupted guards and the vicious privileged, are hundreds of innocent, working people. Children, families, friends.

"You're fighters. Survivors. The Grounders should worry about us."

Ethan clenches his jaw, "Blake's the type of guy to shoot first and asks questions later, and I mean that literally." He whispers the words to Clarke because the one thing he doesn't want is Bellamy's attention.

She glances at him, brows pulled together. "He has a gun?"

He nods, eyes drawn to Bellamy's hip.

Clarke shakes her head when the crowd begins to cheer.

She grabs Ethan's wrist, ignoring the embarrassing noise that escapes his lips and glances down to see the metal band still connected. She's made up her mind as she drags the confused boy with her, out of the clearing.

"What do we do now?" Monty asks, sticking by their side.

"Now, we go after Jasper."

Ethan follows her when she releases his arm, "And I'm tagging along why?"

"Because if you stay behind, they'll take your wristband." Clarke says, "You seem like you want to keep it."

"Yeah, my mum's up there. Yours is too, right? The doctor? I saw you guys when I left my cell." He explains, doing two things at once as he reaches an arm across Clarke for Monty, "I'm Ethan."

Clarke nods, her face softening just a little. Monty shakes Ethan's hand, but his expression is still understandably tense. "Monty."

"You got parents up there?"

"Yeah, farm station."

Ethan nods, "Nice." and that's the end of the conversation.

"Sit." Clarke tugs at Ethan's wrist until he's resting on a stack of logs.

"Uh, okay?"

She drops her bag, crouches down and reaches for his face. 

He rears back, pursing his lips.

"I have to clean it." She presents the wet cloth until the understanding dawns on Ethan, and he leans forward. It only takes a minute, but he can feel each drop of water soak through his pants and against his knee. "We don't want anything getting infected down here."