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chapter seventeen!
HANGING CLOUD
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ARES' SLEEP IS not kind. It seems fitting for the eventful two days he'd been awake. Instead of being so tired he'd have a dreamless, peaceful slumber, he is plagued with nightmares that he can't drag himself out of, trapped in an inescapable hell formed by his own – apparently guilty – conscience that haunts him at every turn.

Dream Ares is in the forest surrounding the camp. It's not dark, which somehow makes it worse; if it hadn't been for the events in the nightmare, the warm sunlight spilling over the woods and warming his skin may have seemed benign. It also makes it so much easier to see the blood. It's everywhere, on the dirt and caked onto his boots, smeared onto the trees and dripping from the leaves. Blood of his own. Blood of his enemies. And the blood of his friends.

He hadn't started off alone. He'd been with Nate, the two of them on a hunting trip organized by Clarke. But when Ares had stepped forward to approach an unsuspecting deer, Nate's body had dropped dead next to his, an arrow embedded in his spine. Ares had whirled around and shot the Grounder in the face before he could think twice. And before the panic could settle in, before he could take the time to mourn his friend, the war began.

Each time, a person he knows calls out his name, and each time, he's a second too late to save them. He watches their bodies go down until there are so many corpses he's practically tripping over them with every step. He shoots the Grounders in retaliation, but by that point, the action is futile. The delinquents are already dead.

Ares doesn't know when he'd started crying, but his face is so slick that he can't tell what's from blood and what's from tears anymore, the forest conflating into a sea of chaos and crimson that makes him want to hurl his guts up. The stench of death is near-paralyzing. A distant part of him knows that this must be a dream because he has too many bullets. He should have run out by now. But he hasn't, so he keeps going, keeps killing, keeps soaking himself in blood.

He steps around Raven's body and nearly stumbles on top of Oliver's. Kiernan's sky-blue eyes stare up at nothing from his twisted frame. He can see the tangle of Clarke's blonde hair, the Grounder that had killed her lying motionless to her right. Ares uses his boot to nudge another warrior off of a body, revealing Blake and the gruesome slash across his neck.

"Ares," a voice pleads from behind him. He squeezes his eyes shut, internally begging, Not again. Please, not again, before finding the strength to turn around.

Instead, he finds his own rifle aimed at his forehead.

"Your turn," says his voice, though he can't tell if the words had come from his mouth or some sort of clone before the bullet rips through his brain.

Ares hurtles out of the nightmare with a gasp, pushing himself to a sitting position before he's even conscious. His trembling hands drag over his face for any sign of blood or tears, but his dirt-smudged cheeks are dry. The inside of his tent is void of bodies. Though his heartbeat hammers in his chest hard enough to make his ribs ache, he forces himself to remember that none of that was real. It was just a dream. Just a piece of him that's angry for what he'd done.

He forces himself to take slow, measured breaths, curling his hands into fists until his heartbeat begins to even out and the post-nightmare adrenaline to stop coursing through his veins. Just a dream. Just a terrible, awful dream.

The zipper of his tent starts to move. Ares is too groggy to even consider raising a weapon, so he waits until Nate pops his head inside and gives him a once-over.

"Thank God," he says with a sigh of relief. He turns back toward someone Ares can't see, saying, "Yeah, Kier, he's awake," before facing forward again. "You've been asleep for, like, sixteen hours, man. We thought you died. We wanted to wake you up this morning, but Blake told us to let you sleep."

Ares flinches at the sentence We thought you died. For a moment, he remembers his nightmare with startling clarity, seeing the barrel of the gun pointed directly at his head, the awful bang–

Nate's voice slices through his flashback. "You good?"

Ares blinks. He runs a hand through his curls, which have grown longer since they'd arrived on the ground, and messier as a result. His fingers get caught in a few knots. "Yeah. Just had a bad dream." When Nate opens his mouth again, he quickly adds, "I don't want to talk about it."

His friend's mouth snaps shut. "Fair enough. But you missed a lot while you were out, so hurry up and get out here so Kiernan and I can fill you in."

And with that, he disappears from the tent. Ares sighs. There was once a time when he may have insulted Nate, argued that he didn't listen to anyone, and then roll over and go back to sleep. However, he is pretty interested in hearing everything that's gone down while he was out, so...

He haphazardly tames his curls and throws his two blankets off of his lower half. Since the air is getting crisper and the temperature is steadily dropping as they creep closer to winter, he's glad he has both to cover him as he sleeps. The blanket Nate had given him for his birthday may have been the best gift he's ever received.

Once he finally emerges from his tent, hands shoved into the pockets of his black bomber jacket, he immediately notices a shift in the camp's mood. Everything had been normal – tense, but normal – when he'd fallen asleep. But now, there's a certain stillness to the camp despite the continuous movements of each delinquent. It's not that everyone is frozen, but it's more like they're tip-toeing around a ravenous beast that will devour them whole if they attract too much attention to themselves. Some people cast him wary looks. He's used to that, so it doesn't surprise him, but somehow, he doesn't think they're from his history with Merritt Santiago.

"Camp's divided," Kiernan explains by way of greeting, catching one of the glares. "Some people think you were right to fire that first shot. Some think you squandered our only remaining shot at peace."

Ares' mouth twists in a violent snarl. Peace. Peace? With those people, who speared an unarmed Jasper in the chest and then strung him up for bait? Who built human traps around him, when all of them except Blake had been underaged children? Who kidnapped Octavia and held her prisoner? Who hunted them for sport?

How naive of anyone to think that they ever had a chance at peace with the Grounders. Ares is no perfect man himself, but they had struck first.

"They were going to kill Clarke," he growls lowly, his voice filled with malice. "If I hadn't killed those scouts, we would be short half of our leadership, and how would that have been for morale, huh? If she was dead? When are they going to wake up and realize that it's us or them, and–"

Nate grabs his shoulders and shakes him a little. "Okay, Res, calm down before you have the entire camp staring."

Ares blinks. Through his rage, he hadn't noticed how loud his voice had gotten. Now he has more than a few onlookers who quickly go back to their jobs once they notice him glowering at them.

"We heard the story from Bellamy," Kiernan says. There are purple rings beneath his blue eyes as if he hadn't slept. "He and Clarke explained everything, but some people – like Finn and Octavia – started opening their mouths, and, well, talking about what you did, and..." He pauses, taking a deep breath. "Look, the fact is that Miller and I believe you did the right thing. But others don't, and now they're scared that the Grounders are going to burn our camp down, so nobody wanted to be Gunners. Harper, Miller, Monroe, and I were up all night."

What you did. Funny how, according to Kiernan, nobody seems to be blaming Jasper, Blake, or Raven, who were all there as well. Since he fired the first shot, it's apparently all his fault.

Nate returns his hands to his sides. "Everyone's a little jittery. I'm pretty sure you're the only one who slept last night."

The dark-skinned boy's eyes flicker to Kiernan, who widens his a fraction as if they're communicating in some silent language. Kiernan's shoulders shrug a bit before dropping back down. Ares' eyes squint in suspicion.

"There's something you aren't telling me."

Nate sucks in a breath before revealing, "The Exodus ship crash-landed. You know, the one that was supposed to come down in another month? It exploded on impact – everyone heard it, but you were already asleep. Clarke believes her mother was on it. She's been really upset, but trying to hide it. You know, the Clarke way."

Ares puffs air from the side of his mouth. What perfect timing for a tragedy. If people weren't already scared shitless, they definitely are, now.

"Bellamy's gathering a team to check it out," Kiernan says. "You interested?"

"Anything to get out of this place," he replies. "It seems like everyone's walking on eggshells. You see how people are moving but don't seem alive? How they're talking but in whispers? How everyone looks at one another like they're afraid their neighbor is going to accidentally break the quiet?"

"Agreed," Nate says. "This place blows. Right now, at least. Usually, it's not too bad."

Ares rolls his eyes at his friend's blabbering. He starts walking without warning, heading toward where he'll inevitably find Blake– closer to the dropship. Along the way, he finds Octavia. The young girl shoots him a cutthroat glare and deliberately chooses a path that will take her farthest from him. It doesn't bother him; he's never had a great relationship with the younger Blake sibling, but he can't decide if he'd rather have her shameless flirting from before or her looking at him like he's mud on the bottom of her shoe.

They find Blake packing supplies in the dropship. He has his rifle on the table beside him, brows furrowed in concentration as he shoves rations and some tools into a backpack. He doesn't look up once the trio stops in front of him. "What."

Ares is not phased by the grumpiness in his tone. "Heard you were heading out to look at the crash site."

"They already filled you in, huh?" Blake questions, quickly glancing at Kiernan and Nate. "Yeah, a lot happened while you were out."

So he's been told. Too bad he doesn't feel like having small talk. "We're coming on the trip."

Blake stands up at that, raising his eyebrows at his blunt tone. "Oh, you are, are you? And who's going to look after the camp while we're gone?"

"God?"

"I'm not playing games, Ortega." His voice lacks all mirth. "This isn't a joking matter anymore. We are at war."

"Yeah, because of him," Connor spits as he walks past them, purposely ramming into Ares' shoulder. The curly-haired boy simply runs his tongue over his teeth and ignores it, even though his fists are begging him to reach back and punch Connor in his forward-set mouth.

Blake's eyes follow Connor's retreating figure. He seems to weigh his options in his head before saying, "Maybe it's better if you're out of camp. Morale is already down– we don't need you picking fights like you did with Murphy."

Ares almost huffs air through his nose in laughter. That was during Blake's anarchist phase. He had encouraged that fight.

"Miller, you stay behind and help watch over camp," the man continues. "The people trust you and will listen to you. If you need help, get Monroe– she's impartial. We leave in ten."

"Damn," Nate sighs to Ares. "You always get to see the exciting stuff."

"It's because everyone here wants to kill me and probably would the second our leaders were gone."

"Nah, I wouldn't let them."

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

It turns out that going with the group to check out the crash site is even worse than staying at camp.

Clarke is downright miserable. Like Nate said, she's clearly trying to hide it, but all that's doing is making it more obvious. Her shoulders are a little too tense, her mouth constantly pinched in a line so harsh the skin around it is completely white. She doesn't speak. As a result, neither does anyone else.

Normally, Ares wouldn't mind the quiet. But this isn't the blissful serenity of people too lost in thought or enthralled by nature to converse with one another. This is a march toward a graveyard, a time spent preparing for the horrors they will soon find. It's smothering – suffocating – and Ares finds himself adjusting the collar of the hoodie beneath his jacket more than once to allow more air into his lungs, even if it's all in his head and it has no actual effect.

He smells the smoke from miles away. Luckily, the ship hadn't crash-landed in Grounder territory, or they'd be in deeper shit than they already were before. Since Ares had been asleep while everyone watched the event, he has no idea where they're actually going. He simply wanders after Clarke and Blake, trying to ignore the glares that Collins discreetly shoots him every time Raven isn't looking.

At least he has Kiernan. He's pretty sure that the kid would sooner die than stop being optimistic, so he manages to keep the mood from plummeting completely with just his presence. He feels like a security blanket. A rock to fall back on.

They finally make it two hours later. The acrid scent of smoke is so potent that Ares' eyes water, causing him to blink rapidly to clear his vision. Kiernan sputters a cough. Raven is the first to speak, muttering a, "Woah."

Every single piece of the ship had been crushed to smithereens on impact. There's no way to pinpoint the exact place it landed due to the amount of debris scattered throughout the clearing in the woods. The trees around the perimeter had been charred to black as well. Everything in the landscape is dead. The dry grass is brown – some of it still burning – and everything is still. There's not even a bird in the sky, as if they know not to fly here. The sky is as bland and overcast as he's ever seen it. Ares has walked past a display of skeletons, and he's still never seen anything this lifeless.

None of them move. They all come to a wordless agreement to wait for Clarke, who steels herself, her pale face devoid of a readable expression, and then steps forward. The grass crunches under her feet and a few loose pebbles roll away. She walks slowly, careful to avoid anything that could injure her.

Ares follows along with the others. His still-watering eyes drift across the terrain, searching over every boulder and every hunk of metal. The Exodus ships are meant to carry roughly a hundred people– just like the one they'd landed in. If he's being honest, he expected worse, but it is odd that there are so many rocks in what should have been a grassy field.

When he keeps walking, he realizes why.

The rest of the Exodus ship had formed a crater in the field. The charred, skeletal remains of the thing lie smoldering at the deepest point, accompanied by the burned remains of humans. Ares notices a ribcage poking out of one of the piles of debris.

He jumps when Kiernan's hand slaps onto his shoulder as if catching his balance. He's about to shoot the boy an incredulous look when he notices the human arm at their feet. Kiernan's eyes are practically bulging out of his head, his hand clamped over his mouth in shock and disgust. Ares, on the other hand, is overwhelmed with the intrusive thought to kick it away from them. However, considering that's probably not a good idea, he shrugs Kiernan's hand away and starts picking his way down the crater.

The stench of molten metal and gasoline invades his nostrils the closer he gets to the wreckage. His brows furrow, warding off any tears from welling in his eyes at the acrid odor. His boots slide against the loose rocks, but he's careful to keep one arm out for balance until he reaches the bottom.

Raven follows him with her usual thunderous expression on her face. She and Collins haven't spoken a word to each other. It's unusual – Ares is used to enduring Collins' blatant favoritism toward Clarke and Raven's quips at her boyfriend. But there's nothing but the same tense silence between them that everyone is experiencing, a stark reminder of how the ground seems to ruin everything.

Ares examines the rubble carefully. He can't find any sign of the control system or memory drive– everything is burnt beyond recognition. Any multi-colored cables he'd normally be able to see are probably covered in ash.

"Clarke shouldn't be out here," Collins says as he watches the blonde girl survey the wreckage above the crater.

"Clarke knows her boundaries," Ares fires back without tearing his gaze from a burnt set of bones. "Oh, I forgot... you haven't heard of those."

He feels Collins' rising anger like a tidal wave rushing toward him, but before it can crash into shore, Raven adds, "Her mom was on the ship. She's looking for answers. You want to help her, find me the black box, hard drives, anything that will explain why the ship crashed."

It is strange. The ship obviously wasn't supposed to land here. And judging by the explosion and force of the impact that had formed the crater, a parachute hadn't deployed. But if they had survived a crash-landing in the middle of the woods without dying, it seems unlikely that it would have happened to the Exodus ship.

"Stay sharp," Blake reminds Kiernan and the other people who had joined their expedition. "Grounder retaliation for what happened on the bridge is coming, it's just a matter of when."

"Can you blame them?" Collins asks.

"No, I blame you," Blake snidely replies.

"Maybe if you didn't bring guns–"

"If we didn't bring guns, we all would have been killed," Raven cuts in, her voice lacking so much patience that it cracks like a whip. She turns to glare at her boyfriend from her crouched position near the wreckage.

"Why they're coming doesn't matter anymore," Blake says. "It's our job to be ready when they do. We're on our own, now."

Ares glances up from a smashed set of seats and notices Raven's brows creasing. She's still looking at Collins, but he doesn't notice. His eyes are still locked on Clarke, worry wrinkling his round face. Raven shakes her head and returns her attention back to the rubble.

It's silent again, so it's nearly jarring when Clarke makes her first sound all day – an "eugh" of disgust at something dripping from the half-destroyed combustion chamber to her right. Raven immediately straightens up in alarm.

"Clarke, stop!" she exclaims before the blonde girl can reach out and touch it. She quickly bounds across the boulders, her ponytail swishing with each movement as she climbs up from the crater. Ares follows, intrigued by whatever Clarke had discovered.

"Rocket fuel?" Clarke questions.

"Hydrazine," Raven corrects. "Highly unstable in its nonsolid form. If this stuff meets fire, we're all pink mist."

Ares thinks that it wouldn't be so bad. At least they'd go out with a bang.

Raven dips a small rock into a pool of the liquid. "Fire in the hole!"

She throws the pebble toward a section of the ship that's still burning. As soon as it makes impact, the entire thing explodes, creating a boom so loud that Blake jerks back in surprise. The resulting smoke pours into the air and blends perfectly into the colorless sky above.

"We need to clear the area," Raven announces.

"Okay, then," Blake says. "We move in formation. No straggling, weapons hot. We've got to get back before dark."

As Clarke starts to move back toward the way they came, Ares glances back at the pink liquid still dripping from the tank. An idea forms in his head so abruptly that he reaches out and grabs Raven's arm just as she begins to leave, causing her to look at him in confusion.

"I think I found an advantage over the Grounders," he says.

Raven raises a brow. "What?"

"They're stronger, faster, outnumber us, and have better knowledge of the area, but we have something they don't: science." He's excited now, a gleam lighting up his eyes. "Think about it. All of their weapons are old-fashioned. You think they know how to make things explode like this? You think that, even if they found this crash site, they would know what this stuff is?"

"We can make things go boom," Raven finishes, realization dawning on her face. When Ares nods, a faint smirk pulls up her lips. "I like the way you think, Ortega."

Maybe this war won't be so bad, after all.

________

a/n:

this is only two (2) minutes of the actual show because this episode is JAM-PACKED with action. i'm excited to actually get into it because i am become death is one of my favorite episodes of season one! i can't believe that the season is already coming to a close– i feel like i'm near the finish line for part one but also still have so much to do (and BOY, i really do have so much to do).

the gif is honestly so iconic because it is the most "ares" gif of benjamin wadsworth i have ever seen. just him twirling a sword?? talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show-stopping, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever been done before.

the irony in me updating this is that i am three (3) episodes behind on the 100 season 7 because this season just isn't compelling to me and i'm not even that hurried to catch up. i probably will soon, but i just miss when i binged season 1 and caught up to where season 2 was airing all in a 24-hour span. my love for the show as a whole is ~gone~ and that's why i'm ending this book after season 2. i love the first few seasons but seasons 5 & 7 are arguably the worst.

–kristyn

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