Taming Chaos // J.M // The 100

Chapter 68

Murphy moves to the couch by Ethan's demand and swings over the top of it, snatching the remote up in his hands.

Circling around instead of over, Ethan drops with a pleased groan onto the middle cushion and flips open the medkit - hell to the fucking yes - to treat Murphy's injury. Washing up was a no-go for either of them, unfortunately, until it was looked at.

He hears the TV click on, but his focus remains on unwrapping Murphy's outstretched arm.

"I tried to stop her."

Ethan frowns, finally looking up.

The screen was mirroring their exact location. But in their place on the couch, sits one man.

Murphy takes another bite of his cracker, lifting a brow and sitting up in his seat.

"But I lost control. She got the launch codes. It was her. She did it." The man jabs a finger into his chest, "But it was my fault." He picks a gun up from the floor.

Ethan's eyes widen, "What is this?"

Murphy takes another mouthful of water, leaning forward.

"I'm sorry." His face was ashen, "I'm so, so sorry." And then he takes the gun, lifts it to his chest and -

They flinch hard into the couch.

Ethan's eyes drop to the cushion beneath him. He abruptly jolts to his feet, "Oh my fucking god," and curls his fingers into his hair.

Murphy scrambles away, eyes flying to the prominent blood stain, bumping into Ethan's side but staying there.

There's a clanging from somewhere above them.

The doors.

Murphy bolts towards their entry and Ethan is slower to follow, glancing back at the couch with a hitch in his breath.

"Containment door sealed."

"No, no, no!" Ethan looks at the roof, the monotone voice repeating itself like a broken record until he's racing up the steps, "This can't be happening."

Murphy slams his hands against the metal, fingers curling into fists. "No way, come on!" Digging his nails back into the crevices to pull it open.

Ethan looks around at their feet for some sort of sensor, "I don't remember triggering anything - it's locking us in!" He rams his shoulder into the door, panic ramping up to a new high. "Don't do this! Let us out!"

"Chris? Where are you, man?"

The TV's still playing.

Murphy looks at Ethan. Ethan glances at Murphy.

They're back where they started, hurrying into the living room with wide eyes and heavy breathing.

"Chris?" A man runs into the room on screen, dropping to his knees with a gasp, hovering above Chris's body.

Someone younger follows him in, "I knew it. The news was wrong. It wasn't China. The stupid son of a bitch let Alie out."

Murphy moves closer. Even the history surrounding the Earth's downfall was a lie, why was he not surprised.

"Who the fuck is Alie?" Ethan whispers, panting into the stale air.

Murphy ducks down, in front of the couch. He finds the gun in the video, twisting it in his hands.

Ethan can't take his eyes off the screen, distracted by the information he was being given. He doesn't notice Murphy rushing back upstairs.

This Alie lady managed to get hold of every nuclear launch code on Earth. He doesn't understand how that was possible.

And she destroyed the world for what? What reason?

The first video replays.

Ethan turns it off.

A pained cry tears itself from Murphy's throat and Ethan finds himself racing up the steps because of it.

He snatches Murphy by the arm, shaking him hard. "Stop!" He looks between his eyes, chest rising and falling in a uncontrolled pace. "It's radiation sealed. Smashing out of this would be like smashing out of the Ark."

Murphy's panting, his hand dripping with blood, white knuckles clamped around the sharp, metal object he was using to smash at the door. It slips from his fingers with a sharp breath.

Moving to the room was their first step.

Trying to calm themselves down enough to think rationally was the next.

Ethan pushes Murphy so he's sitting on the edge of the bed and comes back with the medical equipment in hand.

"The doors are-" Ethan swallows around a dry throat, "-are probably on - on an automatic system, or something." He cleans Murphy's arm with alcohol, and works at it with a cloth.

The rambling doesn't end there. "On the bright side, we have food and water, a bath, a fucking bed. You have no idea how excited I am for a nap but please, please don't go crazy on me. Jaha might come back and he - then the doors - he might open the doors." It's a desperate hope and a blatant lie, but he can't succumb to the panic. Not yet.

Murphy takes a sudden, heaving breath.

And just like that, he's back, rising from the depths of numbness and staring at his bandaged arm.

"I'm not Clarke, but this'll do." Ethan shrugs, lowering himself to his knees before the bed. He thumps his head against Murphy's knee, closes his eyes and sighs through his nose.

Murphy tilts his head, eyes narrowed in a devious way, "What? You worried about me?"

"Have you seen you?" Ethan chuckles, looking up. "How can I not be?"

He goes to tuck his feet back under him and stand, but Murphy's good hand lands on his shoulder and pushes him back down.

"Wait - just, stay there for a second." Murphy says, lowly, not looking at him.

There's a subtle charm to his voice, like he's planning something.

Ethan arches a brow and widens his eyes to convey his confusion. The warmth of Murphy's hand is already seeping through his shirt. He really can't wait to change out of dirty, itchy, smelly clothes and into some new ones -

"You look good on your knees."

Ethan stares-stares-stares.

He feels like a pot of water that's simmering and Murphy keeps turning up the heat.

Tongue darting out against a dry lip, smiling nervously, Ethan arches a brow, "what?"

His ears burns.

Murphy's lips quirk in his confidence, eyes shifty. His fingers brush against the side of Ethan's neck as he stands and heads towards the curtain, "I'm taking a bath." He pushes past.

"Don't drown." Ethan says, reflexively, but his voice cracks halfway through like he just hit puberty.