Taming Chaos // J.M // The 100

Chapter 50

Marching across the vast land towards the dropship is a lot harder when you're attached to a thread of rope forever being pulled, and Ethan honestly - seriously feels bad for Murphy that one time.

After the last few days, Ethan doesn't think Murphy holds it against them. Unless he's just good at pretending to be nice.

He's pulled out of his thoughts when he sees Zack's swing still attached to the tree, smiling briefly at it before he's tugged to keep following.

Passing by defeated gates, he can feel the tension. The grounders stare at the dust, at the ash, at the bones. Ethan holds his breath when Indra tenses, teeth clicking shut. She glares at Clarke, who stops at the entrance and gains the Commanders attention.

"This way."

Ethan moves first. The rope pulls tight at his wrists but slackens enough for him to climb up the ladder on his own. He quickens when he hears Octavia crying, pushing past the hatch with Clarke to see -

Abby shakes her head minutely.

She can't do it.

Lincoln's gone. 

Lips parting, Ethan glances at the man's chest, still as a statue. Hit with the confirmation, he heaves a long breath and stumbles closer, "No-"

The rope pulls firm and he's back where he started, whipping around to glare at Indra.

Selfishly, a thought comes to mind.

What happens to reassurance when it doesn't come through?

Abby sees the stun baton on the ground, Bellamy looks at the gun to his right, Clarke studies the Commander finally coming to an understanding.

It happens in seconds.

"Kill them all!" Indra orders, yanking her sword from her belt. 

Ethan ducks because she's let go of the rope and hopes to retreat to the other side of the dropship, but feels himself being dragged into the arms of the male grounder, Gustus, who'd snatched the restraints right back into his hands.

He's nothing but paper against the warrior, forced with his back against a sturdy chest. There's a knife to his throat and Ethan chokes on a breath. His bound hands reach, but when he grabs the arm tight against his collarbone, the blade moves closer to his adam's apple.

He winces, forgoing the action.

Guns are met with swords. 

It's a draw.

Each and every one of them come to a standstill.

"Put it down or your reassurances are gone!"

Ethan inhales sharply because Gustus is yanking the dagger closer to prove his point. 

Bellamy flinches. He has to force himself to stay put. Has to watch helplessly as Ethan pulls back from the threat, head jolting against Gustus' shoulder.

"Please," Clarke shows her empty, placating hands, gaze darting between the Commander and Ethan. "You don't have to do this."

"You lied. I told my people what would happen if you did." 

She nods at Gustus.

Ethan denies the embarrassing noise he makes when he's pulled impossibly closer, knife slicing deep. Everything narrows to that point of contact. He feels something warm set a path down his neck to his collarbone and clutches at Gustus's arm because of the pain that follows.

"And you're out of time."

Ethan shudders out a breath. He can't move. He's watching himself in third person.

The blade slices further, slow and painful. He sees the fallen look on Clarke's face, eyes red and glazed and realises this - this is final.

He's about to die.

Lips parted to gasp for air, Ethan squeezes his eyes shut, stretching his neck away from the red-hot fire, flinching against the force being applied and -

It stops. 

The blade pauses in its path.

Because Abby is driving the stun baton, full power, into Lincoln's unmoving chest.

"Hit him again."

The second time is the charm.

Lincoln gasps, heaving in a vast breath.

Ethan steadies his feet, panting into the silence. His fingers dig into Gustus's arm.

Let me go, let me go -

Octavia drops by Lincoln, cradling him against her chest, whispering gently to him past her tears.

The former-reaper lifts his head an inch, "Octavia?"

And that's when the shock passes and the truth hits. Lincoln's back. They weren't lying.

Clarke's breathing heavily, slowly meeting eyes first with Indra, then the Commander.

The latter sheathes her blade. Lifting her head, she nods. Indra gestures quickly towards Gustus and the steady trail of red-red-red against their reassurances skin.

Ethan exhales harshly from being released and thrown towards Clarke. The dagger's gone, a shallow cut an example of what they go through to do the right thing. He presses bound hands over the wound and furiously blinks away the tears.

It's harder to hold back the distress when Clarke tugs him right into her.

"Oh thank god," She whispers, pulling away to search for the wound.

He hesitates, breathing hard into the silence, but removes his hands for her to examine the cut. Clarke tilts his head, fingers gentle at his jaw, and he looks over her shoulder at the people she has her back turned to.

Indra steps closer.

Ethan's eyes lock on. He reaches for Clarke to tug her away, seeing the dagger unsheathed from a belt but the Commander catches his eyes instead. She nods, once, and maintains the stare.

He pauses, hesitantly.

Indra takes Ethan's arm and slices his wrists free from a tangled rope with ease. He keeps unblinking eye contact with the Commander until he's released, in which he unwinds in Clarke's gentle hands.

Bellamy looks up from beside Octavia, brushing a hand down her back. He whispers something in her ear before standing and joining the two blondes.

"Here," Clarke presses against his neck with a salvaged piece of cloth, brows furrowed.

He places his hand over hers and squeezes.

"Hey," Bellamy breathes out, and Ethan leans into the hand that clasps over his shoulder.

The three delinquents share a look, one that shares how terrified they were. But it also shows how grateful they are now.

Because it worked. They were okay.