Ethan doesn't go with the flow this time. He sticks to what he knows.
Lies low in the top half of the dropship to watch over Jasper. Read: to hide from Bellamy and Murphy, but Clarke didn't need to know that when she asked why he'd volunteered to stay.
Wandering around outside had come to feel too open, he had realised, when his eyes tracked movements around him with more vigour than he's used to.
So here he was, twenty-hours in, with Clarke, Wells and Finn still gone, tracking down some seaweed for Jasper - said to have healing properties, which quickly raised the question "why would the grounders use medicine on someone they were trying to kill?"
Bellamy and his crew of hunters had yet to find their way back, either, leaving Murphy and Mbege in charge for the remainder of the day.
Ethan hovers, currently, just above the open hatch.
Bodies litter the floor below, sleeping comfortably in the warmth of blankets. Now at rest. Ethan doesn't know where Murphy is.
But he's parched.
He scratches absentmindedly at his bare wrist and frowns, pinching himself. They got his wristband, so there's no reason to be wary. It's over. Why did he feel so cautious to even leave the drop ship? He chalks it down to feeling overwhelmed. A logical answer.
Ethan sighs, releases his white-knuckled grip on the ladder and drops onto the floor below.
Just like that, he feels a bit better. The uneasiness leaking out of his shoulders.
It's cold when he saunters outside, heading towards the water canister, but nothing he can't handle. A familiar temperature, unlike the heat they've yet to get used to. The Ark wasn't exactly the warmest place.
Ethan regrets hiding himself away when he glances at the stars.
Besides, he could take Murphy. It's a small reassurance. Bellamy, on the other hand. . .
A drop of condensation falls from the cup and trails slowly down his neck. With a shiver, it reminds him to get back inside, setting the cup upside down to dry off.
It's then that Jasper makes an especially loud groan, and the lower floor does so in pursuit, though not out of pain, but annoyance. Ethan gets it, being half asleep leads to some irritablity. But they gotta step into Jasper's shoes for just a moment and understand his delirious pain.
He sneaks past sleeping bodies with a subtle grace that he finds himself earning the longer they're on the ground. Up until a kick to the knee makes him stumble.
Ethan rolls his tongue against the back of his teeth because ah.
It's Murphy, his shoed feet dangling off his put-together hammock, sharp eyes squeezed shut under furrowed brows.
Kicking people under the ruse of sleep.
Rolling his eyes, Ethan steps around childishly swinging feet and continues towards the ladder.
All hope is lost when Jasper lets out another pained cry and Murphy snaps up in his hammock, "That's it." He begins, eyes latching onto the closest person. It just so happens to be Ethan.
Murphy jabs a finger towards the roof, "Shut him up, or I'm ending this."
"Not a chance, hotshot." Ethan steps closer. "If you can't handle it, Murphy, there's the door." He points at the exit and leans closer, egging him on. "The dropship will be waiting for you when you get back."
Murphy's hands curl into fists, but he doesn't swing.
"It echoes all the way out to the trees." A young girl murmers, curled up tightly on one of the chairs behind Ethan. The bags under her eyes are intense, and he almost feels bad.
But Jasper living is more important than losing a few nights sleep.
Murphy sighs. He has the audacity to start heading towards the ladder, knocking into Ethan's shoulder.
Instinct settles deep in his bones, Ethan snags the boy's arm and yanks him back to his side. Here he goes once more, going with the flow of his racing heart.
They're standing barely a foot apart. The heat is rising, people sitting up to watch, waiting for a fight.
Ethan glances between sharp blue eyes, hair hanging down in front. He looks at him, really looks, and notices how much smaller the brunette looks without the large jumper around his shoulders.
"You're not killing him."
The same girl from before pulls the blanket tightly around her knees. "Didn't Bellamy give him until tomorrow?" She asks, blinking lazily at Murphy.
He snatches his arm out of Ethan's grip and glowers, "Yeah, well, Bellamy isn't here, is he?" He glances at the roof when another groan echoes its way through. "The kid's dying anyway. I'm just getting it over with."
And with no other option, "Monty, Octavia, the latch!" Ethan yells.
Murphy's eyes go wide, catching on.
And then Monty is running and Ethan is stumbling into a few bystanders, a fresh bruise blooming across the one Bellamy gave him the night before. Monty makes it up in record time, yelling something to Octavia.
Metal clangs against metal, Murphy is screaming about killing Jasper and then the hatch is blocked from the other side, unmoving even as he rams his back into it.
It's quiet.
On opposite sides of the room, Ethan and Murphy are breathing heavily.
The latter turns his head, a murderous look in his eyes when they lock onto Ethan, holding himself up against the wall.
Delinquents do best at fighting with anger.