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chapter twenty-two!
THE SHOT HEARD
'ROUND THE WORLD
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━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

SO, LIFE IS looking pretty shitty. On top of their gazillion other problems — Clarke and Collins still being missing, the new disappearance of Monty, their impending battle with the Grounders, and the annoying fact that Raven is being standoffish again, to name a few — they now have another one: Murphy is holding Jasper hostage in the dropship.

Ares isn't exactly sure how it had happened. He only knows that Blake had burst into the ammunition tent as Ares had been finishing up another landmine, asking if there was any other way into the dropship aside from the main door. Ares had given the extremely intelligent response of, "Um," before Blake had backed out and sought Raven instead.

Now, they're crouched near the back of the ancient spacecraft, searching for a back way inside. Before last night, maybe he'd jump at the idea of helping Raven. Now he wishes that he could be working on those landmines or finishing the foxholes.

This anger isn't the crackling, living electricity that had snaked through Raven throughout yesterday. Ares doesn't even think this is anger at all. It's more like a quiet annoyance that's hardly discernible from the usual, reserved manner she retreats to when she's focused. Another person may not have noticed it. But Ares has grown up knowing how to read people, so he can see the slightly too-deep chasm between her angular brows and the frown on her lips that never vanishes. Worst of all, he'd noticed that these minuscule changes had arisen when she'd come near him.

Ares has yet to sleep even though the sun had risen about an hour ago, hidden behind an overcast sky that turns the entire camp a dreary grey. He rubs at his tired eyes with the knuckle of his index finger and sniffles. The lack of slumber isn't doing his head cold any good, and considering they have a life-or-death battle coming up, he's in need of a decent nap to get him alert and healthy.

Despite the fact his breath forms white clouds in front of his face every time he speaks and there are cold drops of early-morning dew coating every surface, he'd shed both his jacket and hoodie long ago. It leaves his bare arms exposed to the chilled air. It's a method of keeping himself awake, but also a precaution. He knows that this task isn't going to be easy — if they can accomplish it at all — so he's going to sweat.

He and Raven work without speaking. The only sound between them is their gentle tapping against the dropship's rear panels in an effort to find the hollow sound of a hidden door, the metal so dark and smothered with rust and grime that Ares finds his hands dirty where they're not protected by his fingerless gloves.

He wants to say something to her, but what? He'd already opened up to her so she would come back to camp; bearing his soul open twice in less than twelve hours isn't exactly on his agenda.

The side of Raven's fist creates a dull thunk when it lightly bangs against a panel. The sound echoes a fraction more than every other sound they've created, causing Ares' ears to perk up in interest.

"I think this is it," Raven says without looking at him. Her brows are pinched as she regards the sheet of metal. She reaches into the bag of tools at her feet and locates a screwdriver, inserting it into one of the bolts holding the panel to the ship. Her arms strain with the effort of turning a screw that's been stuck in place for nearly a hundred years.

Once Raven has the top two bolts loosened, she wedges her fingers into the rivet between the panels and yanks, but it only moves an inch. She returns her hands to her sides with a sigh.

"I'll go tell Bellamy we might have our way in," she says. "Put that pretty head to good use and figure out how to get that thing open."

Ares can't help himself. He turns to her with a smirk, raising his scarred eyebrow. "You think I'm pretty?"

Raven levels him with a sharp glare. Instead of replying, she walks away, the sounds of twigs snapping under her boots greeting Ares' ears as she walks away to give Blake an update.

He puffs a breath from his lips and blows out his cheeks. Taking one of his knives from his jacket pocket, he wedges the point into the small gap that Raven had managed to create between the pieces of metal. His boots dig into the hard-packed dirt to steady himself. Then, he grits his teeth and uses the knife like a crowbar, arm muscles becoming taut as the rusted panel gives a reluctant groan.

SNAP! The tip of the knife breaks off without warning, giving Ares no time to shield his face before the sharp sliver flies at him. He cries, "Agh!" at the piercing sting of it slicing into his cheekbone. Though every instinct in him wants to wipe away the blood, he knows he can't spiral at the sight of a crimson stain on his hands. As a result, he can feel a small drop of warmth trickling down his cheek.

Ares glares at the broken knife as if it had betrayed him. The point had snapped in just the right place to make it virtually unusable unless he fixes it himself, so he pockets it with a frustrated huff and searches for another tool.

Eventually, he locates a decently-sized rock and picks it up. It's heavy and solid in his hand. It scrapes against the callouses on his fingers as he raises it above his head. Then, he brings it down hard on the partially-open panel, striking it with all his might to force it down. Every clang! clang! clang! makes him slightly worried that Murphy will hear and their plan will be over before it even starts.

"That's one way to do it."

Ares turns, swiping a hand through his curls, to see Raven returning. He slightly lifts the rock. "I call it 'using my surroundings.' And it gets the job done, right?"

"Yeah, at the cost of everyone in camp hearing," she counters. "You'll be lucky if Murphy doesn't."

Ares frowns. It would have been different if there had been a teasing lilt to her voice or a mischievous glint in her amber eyes, but there's nothing but cold disapproval on her tan face. To be quite honest, he's getting sick of her attitude. It's as if, no matter what he does, he can't please her. He'd saved her from certain death at the bridge and gotten the silent treatment. He'd bared part of his soul to get her back to camp and she'd apologized for her behavior. He'd been her distraction — and he knows he did a damn good job of that. He doesn't know what he's doing to make her act this way.

"What the hell is your problem?" he inquires, his voice tinged with annoyance as he slams the stone onto the half-open panel once again.

"It's nothing you need to worry about," she responds concisely.

"Oh, I beg to differ." Ares straightens, looking her in the eye. Meeting her fiery gaze sends electricity shooting down his spine. "You treat me like shit, you apologize, you come to me for a distraction, I give it to you, and then you go right back to how you were before. I'm not going to stand here and let you act this way. Especially because I didn't even do anything."

Raven's mouth tightens even more, her stare turning razor-sharp. "Like you're anyone to give me a lecture on how you should act towards other people."

"I'm sorry," his words drip with sarcasm, "I wasn't aware this had anything to do with me."

"It has everything to do with you."

Before Ares can ask her what the hell that's supposed to mean, the dropship lurches as an electric hum greets their ears. The faint sound of the main door opening causes his brows to furrow. He shoves the rock into Raven's hands and takes off toward the front of the ship, rounding the corner just in time to see the ramp come to rest on the forest floor. The parachute covering the entrance blocks the interior from sight. Some of the Gunners have the ramp surrounded, rifles aimed and ready to fire if something goes amiss.

"Just you, Bellamy!" Murphy's voice shouts from inside. "Unarmed!"

Ares' confused gaze flickers to Blake as he passes his gun to Kiernan. What's going on?

"Ten seconds, or I'll put one in Jasper's leg."

And then it hits him. Blake is trading himself for Jasper.

As Murphy begins counting, the man transfers his radio to Octavia, who places a reassuring hand on her brother's shoulder. "Raven and Ortega will find a way to get you out."

"I can handle Murphy," Blake responds. "Get everyone back to work— the Grounders are still coming."

The Bellamy Blake that had first landed on the ground wouldn't have dreamed of sacrificing himself to save another one of the delinquents. He probably would have been okay with it as long as Octavia was safe — whatever the hell we want, right? But this version of him is completely different. He steps up to the edge of the ramp without hesitation, his jaw tightening with a thick swallow and shoulders squared in confidence. He tries to conceal his true emotions behind a brave mask. However, Ares can see a flicker of fear in his dark eyes.

This is a true leader. One who puts the good of others before themself, asking his sister to keep everyone focused on surviving instead of the fact he's in danger. One who is willing to put himself in harm's way to protect his people. Hell, it can't be an easy decision to make, but there's not a trace of doubt on Blake's face, like switching places with Jasper had been the obvious choice. Ares has to admire his bravery and development.

Murphy reaches the number five before Bellamy announces, "I'm here!"

He walks up the ramp and disappears behind the canvas. A moment later, Jasper Jordan comes tumbling out, lanky legs giving way so he rolls down into the mud. A red gag has been shoved into his mouth and his hands are still restrained behind his back, leaving him with nothing to catch himself as he comes to a halt at Octavia's feet. She quickly bends down to help him.

A hiss fills the air as the ramp begins to rise. There's a rumble and a dull thud when it finally closes, and it feels like Bellamy has just willingly entered his own tomb.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

The panel opens with a heavy grating sound that makes Ares cringe. Raven immediately ducks inside, army-crawling onto the grime-coated floor with a quiet grunt. He waits for her to get a fair distance into the dropship so she doesn't accidentally kick him in the face, then mimics her actions and follows her underneath the ship's main floor.

The space is so dark that Ares is nearly blind. There is nothing except vague shapes and shadows that abruptly solidify once Raven clicks on a hand-held light. The rapid change makes his eyes sting as they adjust, causing him to blink hard before he gets used to the dim lighting.

There are distant, muffled voices from above. Judging by their direction, he and Raven must be slightly behind wherever Murphy and Bellamy are standing. He can't make out exactly what they're saying without concentrating. Too bad eavesdropping isn't what he's here for.

Raven looks around at the wires and tanks with a rare grin. "Very cool."

Ares ruins the moment by whacking his head on a low-sitting bar of metal. Raven immediately whips her head around to face him after hearing the dull thunk of his skull hitting the bar. He clasps his hands to the aching spot on the top of his head, gritting his teeth and sucking in a sharp breath to stifle the agonized groan threatening to come out.

"Will you be quiet?" she hisses. "If we're caught, we're dead, and so is Bellamy."

Ares rolls his eyes. When he looks forward again, his head pulses with pain. That spot's bound to be tender for a while.

"Not like I was trying to hit my pretty head," he grumbles back. He's never going to let her live that one down.

Raven pointedly ignores that statement and continues crawling. Eventually, she reaches a point tall enough to drag herself to a sitting position, then to a crouch. Ares follows and straightens up, squinting when she nearly blinds him with the light in her hand.

When he looks away to avoid the brightness searing into his retinas, his eyes locate a hatch in the wall. "Bingo."

He pulls it down. Raven joins him and aims her light at the inside, revealing an entanglement of multicolored wires, switches, and circuits that nearly makes his head spin. Any other time, he would be delighted to try all of them out to see what they do, but one wrong move could be the end of everything.

"We need to find the door circuit," Raven tells him quietly.

"No shit," Ares replies with a half-hearted scoff. She doesn't even glare in response.

He turns around and notices the fuel tanks— huge, cylindrical basins with warning labels jumping out at him in bold, white paint: HYDRAZINE, HIGHLY FLAMMABLE. It piques his interest.

She notices his lack of focus and follows his line of sight until it lands on the tanks. When she reaches over and lightly bangs the side of her fist on the bottom of the tank, the sound of fluid sloshing around greets their ears.

"Holy crap," she whispers. "There's tons of it."

"Yeah, we almost crash-landed and died," Ares says nonchalantly. In contrast, his eyes are alight with glee — so much hydrazine means bombs. Big bombs. Probably ones large enough to wipe out the entire Grounder army. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"More bombs," Raven answers with a nod. "We can put that on our to-do list. Right now, we need to—"

She's cut off by a gunshot from above that makes both of them jump. Ares almost hits his head again, startled by the loud sound.

"That's good," Murphy's voice says, sounding clearer now that they're so close. "Then do what I said."

Raven glances at Ares with widened eyes. His heartbeat is a low rush in his ears, cold dread trickling from his heart to his fingertips as he recovers from the sudden fear sparked by the gunshot. But he manages to whisper in an even voice, "Blake's still alive. We've got time."

How much time is another question. Murphy could get sick of whatever game he's playing and decide to finish Bellamy with a quick bullet to the head before they even have time to hotwire the door.

There's a low mumble of conversation that doesn't drift through the floor. Then, Bellamy's voice gets louder as he announces, probably so Octavia can hear, "I'm fine, just a misfire. Now stop worrying about me and get back to work, all of you." He pauses. "And tell Raven and Ares to hurry their asses up."

That last part hadn't been directed at Octavia— he'd been speaking directly to them. As if he'd known, somehow, that they'd already gotten in through that loose panel. Or he'd had enough faith in them that they'd be there by now.

The two of them come to a silent agreement to turn back toward the tangled wires and get working. Ares reaches up and uses a calloused finger to trace along the red one, but he quickly gets lost in the endless series of knots; a century-year-old piece of equipment isn't making their job easy.

"Red's usually ignition, right?" he asks quietly. Raven nods. "So green's probably the door."

She picks up some pliers, using them to gently lift a knot and attempt to find where they end. "We'd better hope we're right about that, or else we'll be fried under here. Help me find the starter bundle."

He tries, but it's difficult to focus when Raven is so close to him that he can almost feel her beating heart against his arm and her warm breath fans his face. They haven't been this close since his tent last night. As soon as that thought registers, his mind begins to wander back to that moment, recalling searing kisses and how her fingertips had dug into his skin deep enough to leave bruises.

"Ares." Raven snaps her fingers in front of his face to get his attention. He zones back into his surroundings, blinking to clear his vision. "Focus."

He swallows thickly, his gaze dancing along the wires in front of them even as he dares himself to ask, "What did you mean by this having everything to do with me?"

She falters her movements. The pause only lasts for a split second, but Ares is so in-tuned with every one of her motions that he catches it. It's enough to call her bluff when she murmurs, "Nothing. It was a stupid thing to say."

Ares finally locates the starter bundle for the ignition and battery. He grabs it and holds it out toward Raven, who starts working on stripping the wires. His attention turns back to finding the end of the door circuit.

"I'll have to disagree with you on that," Ares says, keeping his voice quiet. "It clearly wasn't nothing."

"What makes you say that?" She tries to sound indifferent, but he's got her cornered, and the knowledge of that makes his lips curl up in a smirk.

"Because your heart hasn't stopped hammering since we got this close."

She attempts to brush it off by arguing, "Adrenaline."

"Yet your hands are perfectly still. You know what, Reyes? I think I've finally figured out why you've been avoiding me. I think you like me, and you're mad about it."

Raven doesn't say anything in response, but due to their close proximity and the coolness of the dropship's floor, he can feel her skin heat up from a flush that creeps up her bruised neck. He waits for her to say something. It's rare for Raven to flounder for something to respond with, but words seem to be caught in her throat. She tries to hide it by pretending to ignore him and focusing on the wires in her hands.

"You've guessed wrong," she grumbles.

"I don't think so," he fights back. "My pretty head tells me I'm right, and I'm smarter than I look, remember?"

It does make sense now that he's finally realized it. Raven hadn't been eager to leave his tent just because he'd fulfilled her wish of being distracted. Maybe, deep down, she'd been harboring feelings for him, too, and merely thought that a release of tension would cause them to go away. But they haven't. And Raven — maybe still plagued with guilt about moving on from Collins — doesn't know how to cope with that.

He thinks back to the few moments after their highs, when all she'd done was looked down at him. They'd been so close, his hands tangled in her hair, hers on his chest, eyes locked. He'd yearned to kiss her then. But he hadn't, because it would have meant something else entirely. It wouldn't have been a distraction anymore, and he didn't think they were ready for that. The idea that she may have wanted him to kiss her, too, sends a flurry of emotion writhing in his gut.

Muffled conversation continues between the two people above them. Ares catches snippets — mostly Murphy blaming Bellamy for his near-execution via hanging, which is valid. He hadn't actually witnessed the whole ordeal, but he'd known that Bellamy had been the one to kick the box out from under Murphy's feet. But who their co-leader is now... he doesn't think he would have done it.

When Bellamy solemnly expresses that it was wrong, Murphy scoffs. "Yeah, it's a little late for that, now."

Ares hands Raven the stripped door circuit. She uses her pliers to maneuver the hundred-year-old wires, careful not to let the exposed ends hit any of the metal surrounding them.

"What happens after you kill me?" Bellamy asks. He's stalling for time.

"Well, I think the Princess is dead," Murphy answers snidely, "and I know the King's about to die, so who's really gonna lead these people, huh? Me, that's who. And, yeah, maybe I'll have to kill your Grounder-pounding little sister—"

There's a shout from Bellamy as he attempts to retaliate. A scuffle follows suit, and Ares finds himself clenching his hands into tight fists as Raven carefully twists the wires together to get the dropship's electrical components online. They're working as quickly as they can, and it still feels like it's not enough. Time is not on their side.

Raven taps the entwined wires to the door circuit. It sets off a bright series of sparks straight at their faces, causing her to release a surprised yelp. Ares slaps his hand across her mouth to muffle the sound, but it's too late. Murphy has already heard them.

"I'm guessing that's her right now," he drawls, his voice even closer than before.

Bellamy's hoarse voice screams, "NO!"

Deafening gunfire. The first few shots ring out before Ares' brain can register them, the bullets firing through the grated gaps in the floor, surrounding them with the pling! pling! pling! of them ricocheting off the walls. He finally manages to move so he's covering Raven, his arms wrapped around her as he squeezes his eyes shut. One clips his bare bicep. If he'd been wearing his jacket, maybe he'd been fine, but the unprotected skin rips open and burns enough that his eyes water.

Miraculously, it stops after a few seconds that seem like years. Ares finally dares to open his eyes when Raven leans heavily into him with a pained grunt, her breathing coming out in short, rapid pants.

"Ares," she gasps.

"It's okay," he tells her, thinking she's only panicking. "We're okay."

"No — I'm — I'm hit."

Ares' heart drops into his stomach. He instantly begins micro-analyzing everything about her. She's talking and breathing, meaning the shot couldn't have hit anything vital enough to kill her in seconds, but that doesn't mean they aren't in deep shit. He curses himself. Why hadn't he moved sooner?

He locates the point of impact: the inside of her right hip, digging through the fabric of her gray hoodie. A wave of nausea barrels into him when he feels the wound and the blood pouring from it. The bullet is lodged firmly into her skin.

"Ares," she whispers, her voice a fearful tremor. "I can't feel my leg."

"Fuck," he mumbles instantly. It must be why she's leaning so heavily on him. "Shit. Fuck—"

He tries to apply pressure to her wound, not even caring about his own, but there's so much blood. He can feel it dripping onto his pants and staining the fabric of his shirt. The sounds of his uneven breathing become muffled to his ears, replaced by an all-too-familiar ringing noise.

Fingers skim against his. Raven presses down on the injury, her now-wet skin sliding against his, the sensation enough to make bile sting the back of his throat.

"Connect the wires," she orders quietly, gritting her teeth together to suppress a cry of pain. "Focus, Ares."

She passes him the pliers and entwined wires. Ares takes them with trembling hands, his vision going fuzzy at the sight of his bloody fingers and soaked glove. The coppery stench invades his nostrils, causing his vision to blacken at the corners, and everything is spinning—

Focus, focus, focus. Every second feels like a millennium. Ares closes his eyes, raging against the darkness that wants to swallow him whole, knowing he can't leave Bellamy up there with Murphy and Raven down here with one working leg. He breathes in deeply and ignores the churn of his stomach when he inhales the smell of copper.

He opens his eyes. It's only been a few moments since Murphy had rained hell down on them. Ares tightens his grip on the pliers and wires to steady his hands, then taps the exposed ends to the door circuit, flinching at the sparks that jump out at him. He uses the pliers to connect those with the stripped door circuit. And then the beautiful sound of the main door opening greets his still-ringing ears.

Someone shouts, "Raven, Ortega, you did it!" from outside. Ares doesn't have the sense of mind to feel relieved. Especially not when an explosion rocks the ship, nearly sending them toppling to the floor.

They need to get out of there. But how, when Raven is so gravely injured? How can he manage to help her without aggravating her wound further? He can feel the blood draining from his face, a sharp contrast to the crimson coating his hands.

Ares Ortega is not a coward. He can do this. He can do this. He has to be able to do this.

He can't trust himself to speak without puking, so he eases Raven down until she's kneeling and holds up a finger as a signal for her to wait. Next, he drops to his stomach and crawls out the way they came, sucking in a gulp of clean oxygen and chucking the pliers on the ground. Ares plants his feet on the dirt and wills them to hold his weight instead of crumpling. Then he ducks down and beckons for Raven to come toward him.

She does. It's difficult and awkward, mostly involving her on her stomach with her hands clasped in Ares' as he gently pulls her toward him. The problem is that their grip is slippery due to all of the blood. He tries not to look at it, but with the brightness of the sunlight, he's reminded of how bright it is. Bright and red and so, so sticky—

Raven finally reaches the edge of the dropship after several minutes. Ares rolls her onto her back and heaves her up, instructing her to use her good leg to kick off the side of the ship and give him some much-needed leverage. Then, he wraps one of her arms around his shoulders and helps her walk. Step by tiny step. Ares doesn't know how he's still conscious. His mouth is as dry as a desert, but then it starts filling with saliva, and Christ—

He isn't even aware that it's raining. Freezing droplets of water plop onto his hair and face, but he can't feel them as they glide down his skin and gradually cause his shirt to stick to his torso. It only makes everything worse. He's reminded of how his clothing had done that when he'd woken up in Merritt Santiago's blood, and even though he knows it's water, his brain likes to play tricks on him.

Ares still can't find his voice, so it's Raven who cries, "Help!"

A swarm of people is at the front of the dropship. Ares isn't sure if he's hallucinating when he sees Clarke racing toward them, but a very much alive Bellamy reaches them first. Collins grabs Raven from Ares and lifts her bridal-style. Ares wants to protest, "No, you'll aggravate the wound," but the words get caught in his throat, and she's carried away.

"Get her into the dropship," Clarke orders. Her cold hands are on his face next, blue eyes forcing him to look at her. "Ares, what's wrong? Were you hit, too?"

Ares barely has time to push her away and turn toward the bushes before he drops to his knees and vomits. The acid burns his throat, the violent churning of his stomach causing tears to sting the corners of his eyes. Even as his stomach empties onto the greenery, it still spasms, trying to get rid of something that isn't there.

"Res!" Nate calls over the ringing in his ears. Footsteps pound closer. "Res, hey, it's okay."

"What's the matter with him?" Jasper asks. "Is he hit?"

"He's having a panic attack." Nate's hand is on his back, his voice turning gentle. "It's okay. Breathe."

But Ares can't. His windpipe is constricting now. He looks down, seeing the red all over his hands, and it triggers another painful series of stomach spasms that leave him choking.

And then he passes out in the mud.

_________

a/n:

poor ares. he's really Goin Thru It but it's only gonna get worse before it gets better. and this is the 100 anyway, so does it really get better?

thank you all for being so patient with me. i wanted to have the first season done by now, but alas, life. i did finish my peter parker fic, so now i'll have more time to write my other stories! yay!

in case you didn't know, benjamin wadsworth & froy gutierrez actually know each other, so enjoy your real-life kieres content bc these pictures live in my mind rent-free

also this video always leaves me dead on the street so i converted it to gif format for your viewing pleasure🥴🥴

they do be whispering in each other's ears tho😳🤪

ANYWAYS, hope you liked this chapter and all the orteyes angst (+ ares teasing her relentlessly), but writing raven getting shot broke my heart. she deserved better

—kristyn

( word count: 4.9k )