Taming Chaos // J.M // The 100

Chapter 41

Ethan's mother had taken one look at him, her face clouded by resentment, and, well.

The easiest explanation is that he was "grounded".

Something so childish and unfair, now that they were on the ground. Now that he was almost seventeen.

Being locked inside Alpha station after a month of living in tents and running through trees was like torture.

Lorelai wasn't happy - and that was an understatement. She told Ethan he wouldn't be leaving the Ark, with a heavy emphasis on "ever".

She's different, now.

Somehow stricter.

Ethan hasn't seen the others since the massacre.

But he remembers the unbearing silence on the walk back to camp, and hopes they never have to experience it ever again, not together.

He escapes his mother's metaphorical grasp that night and heads outside, digging bruised knuckles into his face and over every healing scar.

His arm has improved, more range in movement, but Ethan swears he can feel Abby glaring at him every time he attempts to lift something heavy.

He heads for the fairy lights, people gathered around tables made of scrap metal and spare barrels, seeing Clarke sitting with Bellamy.

It's hard to believe they couldn't stand each other at first.

Ethan feels a sort of joy bubbling up with the prospect of a normal chat, perhaps the first time they've been able to chill while talking things over -

but aborts as soon as he notices Finn moving towards them.

Grimacing, he continues for the tin cups on the furthest table and fills one up with what he thinks is water, but wishes were moonshine.

It's been hard to look at Finn.

Or, rather, hard to look at him and see friend instead of enemy.

Ethan bumps into someone the second he turns around.

Jolting back a step to save his drink, Murphy snaps his head up, eyes narrowed - but he's considerably calmer when he realises it's just Ethan. "You're alive." He rasps, smirking. "What? Your mum grounded you? It's been, like, two days."

"She did actually, yeah." Cracking his neck, Ethan groans. "Felt like I was twelve again."

Murphy whistles, lifting his drink into Ethan's view, making him go cross-eyed to see it. "I salvaged a bottle of Monty's moonshine. Looks like you could use it."

Ethan worries his lip between his teeth at the reminder.

Monty's still gone. Along with the rest of his friends in Mount Weather. 

If Abby doesn't send a rescue crew like she's promised, then Bellamy and Clarke will be hiding in the shadows, plans already tucked up under their sleeves.

"I could." Ethan slides his empty hand into his pocket and stands tall. "You don't seem like one to share, though."

Murphy rolls his eyes, grabs Ethan's cup, tips out his unfinished water and splits the moonshine between them. "There." He declares, handing it back. "That proof enough?"

Ethan snorts, glancing at the wet grass.

"What?" Murphy asks, frowning.

Ethan accepts the cup and shakes his head with an amused smile. "Nothing." He takes a long sip. 

Murphy sighs through his nose, annoyed by the response - or lack thereof - and tries to walk around him to leave.

Rushing to catch up, slowing him with a hand against his shoulder, Ethan rolls his eyes, "Come on. Don't be like that, I just would've liked to finish my water before you tipped it out."