Murphy would willingly talk to the thief from the deazdone, but not the guy he fucked in the bunker. What a way to stab him in the back.
Ethan sets his jaw, rolls his eyes, and spins away from said people to watch the water behind them.
He's swallowing the bitterness down at the same time as he notices he's scratching ragged lines down his ankle.
"What happened between you and John?"
Ethan flinches, almost flailing out of the boat and into the water if it wasn't for Emori grabbing his arm. She winces when he settles back down. In some sick way, he's leaning into the touch.
"What?" He snaps.
Emori pulls away, choosing instead to crouch down beside him with a furtive smile, "You two were as thick as thieves. What happened?"
He probably shouldn't tell her anything after the last time, but he does anyway, because it's nice to confide in someone who isn't already on their own side.
"He thinks I stabbed him in the back." Ethan fiddles with the bracelets still around his wrist. "And when Murph puts his mind to something it won't be changing anytime soon. Not until he has proof."
He blows out a breath, eyes landing on Murphy, now standing with Emori's brother, Otan.
Ethan will do anything to get that proof. Even if he has to beat it out of Jaha himself.
This thing with him and Murphy isn't ending just like this.
With a resolute huff, he drops his eyes. He almost bites through his tongue when he realizes he's scratching at his leg, again.
"Maybe he wants to avoid being hurt," Emori says, lifting a perfect brow.
Ethan crosses his legs so his right foot is tucked under the other, "He sure seems hell-bent on doing the hurting." The bruise in question aches when he speaks, but hasn't darkened from the red flush it's taken on.
It sucks. Mostly because if he was in the same situation, thinking Murphy had broken his trust - again - he would've punched him too.
"Are you two... together?" Emori glances behind her, hair tumbling over her shoulder.
Ethan frowns, lips parting when he follows Emori's questioning gaze. He didn't. . . he didn't know. The label was never placed. Okay, that was stupid. He'd mostly assumed -
And now?
"I don't know." His voice comes out in a croak, so he forgoes an explanation.
Emori tosses her head back towards him, her brows touching her hairline. "You're not? I thought. . . with how you were in the deadzone."
His cheeks feel a little hot, and he shrugs, clearing his throat. "I'd like to be."
She hums, "I can see that," She looks at Murphy, catches blue eyes before they swing away, "I can see that he'd want to be as well."
The steady lap of waves slam against the boat with every passing second, and Ethan tries not to think about the monster at sea - besides, this was the cleanest he'd felt in months and he really doesn't feel like falling in and ruining it all - nor the fact he can barely open his eyes past a squint.
He drags his fingers over his face and stifles a yawn. "You know, for the thief that took our shit and tried to kill us, you're not that bad."
Emori grins, a cheeky kind of look.
He adds, "Still don't trust you though."
"That's the life," She shrugs. Glancing overhead, she stands and pats his shoulder. "We're here."
"Already?" Ethan smoothes his hair down, completely enamoured by how clean it feels and follows Emori to the front of the boat. He doesn't recognize the landscape, still green rather than the sand he would've despised to see.
Emori takes the metal, roughly geometrical-shaped bag in her hands, only to watch Gideon snatch it back like his life depended on it. "Easy, I was just trying to help," She steps away, hands up in surrender.
Ethan withholds from touching anything else. Besides, it was Jaha's shit. He was sick of doing things for him.
But watching them haul their baggage out of the boat reminded him that he and Murphy had plenty they'd wanted to take with them once they left the bunker, stuff that was still there.
Including that knife, one of the only things left of the dropship.
Ethan really wanted some of those sweatpants to take with him. He's glad the pair he's wearing now is still intact, and the loose tank is admittedly soft against his skin. So there were at least two items of clothing he wasn't giving up any time soon.
"As I recall, last time you helped, two of my friends blew up." Murphy shoves his hands in his pockets and joins them on land.
Friends? That was reaching.
Murphy's changed a lot since his days in the dropship.
The bracelets at his wrist catch Ethan's attention, his own mirroring Murphy's. It somehow eases the stress he can feel making his gut churn.
"You could have told us about the minefields at least," Ethan adds, crossing his arms.
Murphy's old jacket sitting on his shoulders makes him feel like one of the hundred again.
With all those fancy new clothes at Alie's mansion, Murphy looks. . . different. Good different, but definitely not the same as before the bunker.
"Well, there's no minefield this time." Emori smiles, "We go around the Deadzone."
"Let's get a move on you three."
"Don't push it, Jaha." Ethan says, "You passed your word limit the second you started talking."
Murphy hides a smile by swiping a hand across his nose.
Ethan walks deliberately slow, dragging his feet in case the ex-chancellor forgot he wasn't one for taking orders, especially now. Instead, he watches their backs.
It's a while later that they come to a stop for. . . Jaha's hourly meditation?
They stock up with firewood and share the limited food Jaha brought with him.
The grass. . . Ethan had missed the grass. He didn't realize how much he loved grass until he dropped and splayed himself out across it, lifting one leg onto his other knee.
He's sweating already, it's like re-learning how to run.
"Have you really been to the City of Light?" Otan is asking Jaha, crouched right in front of him.
Gideon keeps a watchful eye.
"Shut up, Otan. I'm not listening to that skrish again." Emori scoffs as she walks past.
Ethan's only mildly concerned when Jaha pulls Otan away, leading him through the bushes and out of visibility. He knows what the man can do under Alie's orders. Nevertheless, he shrugs and places his arms under his head like a cushion. It wasn't his problem.
Maybe it's time to start worrying about his own issues, back when they were in the dropship and it was every man for himself.
He should slink back into the chaos and mayhem, let it lead him through life again.
"Skrish." Ethan repeats, testing the word. It felt good on his tongue, "Skrish."
"You good?" Emori settles down beside him, placing her bag and the firewood by his head.
"Sorry, I like the sound of it. Is it a curse word?" He arches a brow but turns his head away when Murphy joins them, dumping his own pile with the rest of it.
Emori shrugs, amusement colouring her open-mouthed smile, "I guess you could call it that."
Glancing away from where Otan disappeared to, Murphy shoves his hands into his pockets. "Thank god he's got somebody else to preach to now, huh."
Emori looks up at him, "Not a believer?"
And Ethan closes his eyes. He listens to them talk, focuses primarily on their voices.
"I believe you're here for a reason, I just don't know what it is yet," Murphy says, low and raspy.
"We were recruited."
"Recruited by who?"
Ethan purses his lips in a sarcastic smile, "Imma take a wild guess and say Alie."
Murphy finally looks down at him. He recognises just who's jacket it is that he's got on, sitting over the loose tank that's chosen to ride up a few agonizing inches.
What catches his attention the most is the sliver of bandages around an ankle.
Murphy narrows his eyes.
"Well, I didn't know her name until now. She comes to us in the flying machine." Emori gestures to the clear sky.
Crouching down, "You mean the drone? Yeah, that's how she found us, too." Murphy taps deliberately against the foot resting across a knee, worries confirmed when Ethan withdraws, a wince hissed through gritted teeth.
"What'd she recruit you for?" Ethan adjusts his legs, laying them out flat. His eyes are still closed when Emori glances from him to Murphy.
"To collect tech."
"You mean steal it?" Murphy corrects her.
"When we have to. We bring it to the island, to him." She gestures at Gideon. "That's how we survive. This time she said they needed a ride." Her eyes lock onto something. She sheathes her knife and stands up.
"What are you doing?"
At the slight jump in volume, Ethan forgoes his chance at a nap and opens his eyes.
"Don't try to be a hero and I'll leave you on your feet this time."
Ethan heaves himself into a sitting position, arms across his knees, "Could you take both of us?"
She smirks, "I probably could."
Ethan rolls his eyes.
"And here I thought you got me. I'm no hero." Murphy presses his lips together. When Emori moves to walk past him anyway, he stops her with an arm. "Come on. Are you really about to steal from the people you steal for?"
"We have other buyers."
Ethan whistles, "Gideon's faster than he looks."
Emori shushes him, "Be quiet."
And then she's gone, stepping around Murphy to move stealthily across the grass. She reaches for the metal backpack, eyes fixated on Gideon for movement.
Ethan turns to watch it happen.
"Bad idea," Murphy repeats, inching forward.
Emori doesn't listen.
She kneels down and barely touches the bag before Gideon is twisting a hand around her neck and lifting her off of her feet.
Now Ethan is scrambling to get up.
"There's no harm done, alright? Just put her down!" Even when Murphy slams a log over his head, Gideon doesn't react.
"There is no pain in the City of Light."
Ethan firmly grabs the reatreating arm, still holding part of a broken log.
Panting, Murphy meets his eyes.
With a single nod, they launch themselves into Gideon, taking both him and a gasping Emori to the ground.
She rolls over, coughing, and still goes for the bag.
"Go, go, go!" Ethan ushers, Emori swiftly kicking Gideon in the head.
They take off, back the way they came and through the underbrush.