✧】iv. we actually were stoned【✧

[ earth skills - earth kills ]

JASPER JORDAN LOOKS like shit.

Finn and Wells hold the unconscious boy between them, his head lolling to the side as Clarke walks purposefully ahead. Amery can't tell where the blood stops and Jasper begins. She casts her eyes to the sky, stars punctuating an angry, dark curtain like ink on a page, and closes her eyes.

Please let him be okay.

Monty stiffens next to her, and she can see the gears turning in his mind, the way he's trying to decide if he can handle getting any closer, if he can take the news they're about to give. Octavia has no such hesitations, darting to Wells' side and peering over his shoulder to get a look.

Monty gulps, edging forward slightly as he takes in the sight of his best friend bloodied and bruised, barely hanging on. "Is he–"

"He's alive," Clarke confirms urgently, her voice level in an almost detached way. Amery lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding as she watches Clarke's eyes dart around the camp, the doctor in her kicking into gear. "I need boiled water and strips of cloth for bandages."

Amery nods sharply, mind immediately dissecting the mission ahead and splitting it into smaller tasks. While she's never had any interest in the medical field, mechanics isn't too far off in that everything is a problem with a step-by-step solution. And while she still isn't sure she's ready to join the Clarke Griffin Fan Club, she knows that the girl is Jasper's best bet, so she's ready to oblige.

Step one: get supplies.

Clarke disappears into the dropship with Finn, Wells, and Jasper on her tail, which Amery takes as her cue to spin on her heel and embark on a search for water. She may not know Jasper very well, but he's important to Monty and Cash, which makes him important to her.

Before she can even take a step, she registers Monty's hollow expression. His skin has gone completely white in the moonlight, his lips slightly parted like he doesn't recognize the person he's just seen.

Amery changes her mind. Step one: distract Monty Green.

"C'mon, Green," she murmurs, placing a hand on his lower back and gently pushing the boy forward. It's not going to help him to see Jasper right now. He needs to channel his nervous energy into something else. "Let's go find some water, yeah?"

Monty nods numbly and follows Amery through the camp, everyone around them buzzing with an anxious sort of energy and illuminated by various small campfires. Behind them, Bellamy, Murphy, and Cash dump something wrapped in a tarp on the ground, resulting in a large cheer from the others.

"Who's hungry?" Bellamy shouts. Cash edges away as a few girls saunter up to him, asking about his adventures, as others throw their fists in the air and shout "Bellamy! Cash! Whoo!"

The boy's eyes keep flickering to the dropship, and Amery knows he must be really worried about Jasper if he can't even bask in the attention of a gang of doe-eyed girls. But Cash is not her priority at the moment.

The mechanic lets her eyes drift away from the commotion and roam the campgrounds, settling on one of the pails Wells had used to collect rainwater under a short tree.

"There," she points to the pails, and Monty peers inside and nods when he sees it still half-filled with water. As Monty picks it up and starts hauling it toward Amery, she scans the ground for kindling and throws together a small fire.

Several yards away, Bellamy and his posse have taken over the fire nearest to the camp gates, already beginning to roast their latest kill. Amery grabs a stray tree branch and approaches, slipping between rowdy and hungry teenagers to get close enough to the flames.

"Present for me, huh, Mecha?" Bellamy's voice startles her, and she turns to find the taller boy staring down at her, an annoyingly confident smirk tugging at the side of his lips. He holds out an expectant hand, eyes flickering down to the branch Amery clutches in her fist.

"Your princess calls me that, too," she hisses, narrowing her eyes at Bellamy. "Guess you've got more in common than you think."

She jerks the branch away from him and jabs it into the flames, creating a torch that she immediately has to hold at an arm's length in front of her. Sparks drop to the ground like tiny, blazing waterfalls, warming her hand and forcing the crowd to part as she marches back to Monty, not sparing Bellamy a second glance.

She lights the smaller fire and sighs, tossing her new torch into the flames and letting them sting her cheeks. Monty's eyes are fixed on the embers as he sits with his elbows on his knees, the flames dancing in his dark irises as he lets the worry envelop him like a dark cloud.

"Here," Amery murmurs, passing Monty another branch to poke at the kindling with. Having something to do seems to liven Monty up at least a little, and he breaks his focus on the flames and starts to brush leaves into the fire as Amery smiles softly at him.

A girl with long, brown locks of curly hair tumbling down her back approaches the pair hesitantly, a bundle of sticks and branches in her arms. Her build is lithe and small, her arms honestly not looking too far off from the small pile of sticks she's holding, but her features are soft and even, a warmth burning in her irises that Amery finds herself liking immediately.

"Hi," the girl says softly, staying a few feet away as if afraid that Amery and Monty will chase her off. "I thought maybe I could, um, help with the..."

The girl gestures to the bucket of water, looking at Amery as if asking for permission.

Truthfully, Amery has never been good with... kids. Unlike machines, they're unpredictable, overly emotional and clingy to the point that Amery would rather keep her distance. Not that the girl before the fire is that much younger than her, but everything in her demeanor screams young– the way she trails off before finishing a sentence, looks to someone older for answers. Amery stumbles for words, unsure of how to address this new step in the equation, but it seems Monty has the situation handled.

"That would be great," he assures her, watching the tension leave the younger girl's shoulders as she kneels next to him.

With a grin, the girl starts setting up a small triangular structure of sticks around the flames and then gestures for Monty to pass the bucket. He obliges, and as Amery studies the girl's facial structure in the firelight, she recognizes her as the girl who had been pinned to the rock while Murphy took off her wristband.

She seems youthful, impressionable, desperate to please. Amery's heart pangs at the thought of her giving up her wristband just to gain approval from jerks like Bellamy and Murphy.

"I'm Fox," the girl offers happily as she hangs the pail from an intersection of branches, letting the flames tickle the bottom and heat up the water inside.

Fox. Amery promises she won't forget the girl's name. She seems like she needs some friends who aren't asshats like Bellamy and Co.

"Well, Fox," Monty smiles as he stands, dusting off his pants, "do you think you could do me a favor and watch this until it boils? Clarke will need it in the dropship after that, but Amery and I need to go find some bandages for Jasper."

Fox's eyes light up at the notion of being trusted by Monty with an important task, nodding seriously.

"I can do that," she promises, slipping into a cross-legged position as she prepares to watch the flames.

Amery's heart swells as Monty thanks Fox, telling her she's a "natural." A natural at what, Amery isn't quite sure, but Fox seems to devour the compliment.

"Thanks, Fox," Amery smiles, really thanking her for more than just the water. Fox has apparently served as exactly the distraction Monty needed.  "Alright, Green," she says, clapping her hands together and nodding in the vague direction of the dropship. "Step two, let's go."

Leaving Fox to tend to the fire and water, she drags Monty toward the dropship door. But something stops her halfway there, and she turns to see what Bellamy Blake is shouting about this time.

A line of delinquents winds from the fire several yards back, and Amery's eyes widen as she realizes what he's doing: making them trade their wristbands for a piece of cooked meat. John Mbege snaps the wristband off of a tall, shaggy-haired blond and Bellamy presses a skewer of meat into his hands, pounding the kid on the back like he's just done him proud.

"Bastard," Amery mutters, and a voice from next to her nearly scares her out of her two-sizes-too-big cargo pants.

"You can say that again."

"Jesus, Keaton," Amery mutters, turning to slap him on the shoulder. "Do that again and I'll forcibly introduce my fist to your face." Keaton just shrugs, grinning, but his smile fades when his gaze shifts back to the fire. The Spacewalker himself has sauntered up to the flames, staring at Bellamy in challenge as he grabs the food.

"Woah, woah, wait, wait, wait," Murphy laughs humorlessly, holding a hand between Finn and the stock of food. "What, you think you play by different rules?"

"I thought there were no rules," Finn drawls, and Amery can't help the smirk that reaches her face. He doesn't falter as he turns around and retreats to Clarke with his new loot, smiling smugly.

"Real smooth," Keaton mutters. "C'mon." He marches right up to the fire, past the line of impatient, hungry teens and toward where the meat sticks out of the ground on sticks.

"Woah, woah, woah," Bellamy says, strolling over to the boy, an amused expression on his face. He's so relaxed, nonchalant, that Amery wants to sock him in the face, even though she isn't sure it would phase him. "Not so fast, Sinclair." He gestures to Keaton's wrist.

"That's not your choice," Keaton says lowly, glaring daggers at Bellamy. Amery slips around the two boys, reaching out an arm to grab a piece of the undetermined animal meat, but Murphy slaps her hand away.

"Uh oh, Little Red Riding Hood," he taunts, stepping into her path. "Wanna be just like Mr. Spacewalker now, is that it?"

She holds up her hand, eyebrow raised as she bites back her retort of why would I ever want to be like Finn?

"No wristband, Bouncer." Murphy looks mortally offended at the new nickname, but Amery was only half-joking. Isn't that what Bellamy is using him for? A personal bodyguard, another pawn in his grand scheme of earthly domination?

Bellamy clears his throat. "Looks like Sinclair will have to give his up for the both of you, since you never had one to begin with."

Amery spins to look at Bellamy in disbelief. "Neither did you," she counters. "You didn't stop Finn, did you? And hey, Blake," she continues, daring him to question her, "I'm doing whatever the hell I want. Doesn't that make you happy?"

She can feel her temper raising the hairs on her arms, a guttural anger deep in her chest threatening to claw its way out and claim Bellamy as its prey. Maybe it's been building since she got to the Ground. Maybe it's been building since Keaton took the blame for her all those years ago. Maybe it's been building her whole life.

Amery's always had a temper, struggling to keep it leashed, like it was an entity of its own that required as much care as a faulty engine. Keaton used to keep her calm, talk her out of the rash decisions she was always on the brink of making. Then his father stepped into the role. Raven helped on occasion, but more often it was true that she agreed with Amery on whatever scheme she was cooking up in the back of her mind.

Keaton is occupied, arguing heatedly with a smirking Murphy. Sinclair and Raven are on the Ark. Nobody stands between her wrath and a very deserving Bellamy Blake, the arrogant self-proclaimed leader of the planet he isn't supposed to be on.

It turns out that nobody needs to talk Amery down, because something else snatches her attention away first. Keaton lunges forward and makes a grab for the skewers of food, ducking under Murphy's shoulder, but the other boy spins and catches him around the waist, slamming him into the ground.

Mbege gets the picture in a moment and drops to the ground after him, wrenching the wristband off of Keaton's wrist as he cries out. Bellamy turns away to guard against the impatient and growing line of kids in front of the fire.

"Mother–" Amery wants to intervene, maybe show Murphy exactly where her shoe can fit, but then she catches Monty's eye. He's still and tense as he takes in the scene, and Amery remembers that his best friend is probably dying in the dropship and this isn't exactly what he needs to see right now.

Sorry, Keats, she thinks, and then uses the commotion to hide the theft of three skewers of food. It's likely that now that the wristband is off, the morons will let Keaton go.

"Time to move," she whispers urgently, and Monty darts back toward the dropship ahead of Amery after she shoves the skewers into his hands. "Clarke needs bandages."

Amery risks a glance back to make sure Keaton's alright. Sure enough, as soon as Bellamy's little security team got what they wanted, they left him alone. But in the time that the two had directed their attention toward Keaton, a string of impatient kids had frayed from the line and started to grab food on their own terms.

Bellamy glares heatedly at Murphy and spins on his heel, storming into the trees, and Amery grins without remorse.

Even on the Ground, there's an authority to rebel against. And every kid sent down in that dropship has been wired to start an uprising.

"Amery," Monty protests as she leads him to the dropship ramp, "bandages first, remember?" It's good to hear his voice more in command, to see him come out of his shell of shock a little. Instead of responding, Amery peers under the ramp and pulls out her old pair of pants.

"Bandages," she announces in a sing-song voice, gesturing to the extra fabric. Monty just shakes his head and smiles softly, following the redhead into the dropship.

The first floor appears empty, the only sound coming from above. Amery looks quizzically at the ladder, wondering how the hell Clarke managed to get an almost-dead Jasper up there, but she supposes now isn't the time to question it.

Monty goes first, Amery a few rungs behind him. On the second floor, Jasper lies on the ground on a pile of dirty blankets, strangled moans slipping past his lips periodically as Wells and Cash look him over. Their voices drift across the room in hushed tones.

Monty is at his side before Amery even takes another step forward, peering down at his best friend with worry written all over his dimly lit features.

"He's gonna be okay, right?" Monty asks nobody in particular in a small voice, and just for a moment Amery thinks he might start crying. She wishes she had another leaf to give him.

"Clarke said he's stable for now," Wells promises as he tears his gaze away from Jasper. "She wouldn't have left if he wasn't."

"Where is she?" Amery asks, slightly annoyed that she abandoned Jasper so soon.

"Food," Cash sighs, flopping onto his back on the floor. An empty skewer lies next to him, and Amery realizes his wristband is gone.

"Cash, your wristband," she murmurs with a slightly puzzled shake of her head.

"In my sleep the first night," Cash sighs. "I don't even know who it was." He rubs at his bare wrist, as if remembering the sensation of the cool metal against his skin.

Monty sits back and sighs, and Amery knows that "stable for now" wasn't exactly the response he was looking for. She places herself on his other side, cross-legged, letting the toe of her boot touch his shoe again.

She taps her sole against his one time, ever so lightly, like she did when he first returned from the forest.

Monty taps back.

Amery doesn't look at the other boy, eyes trained on Jasper, but she allows herself a tiny smile. Jasper has gone blissfully unconscious, a temporary reprieve from the constant moans of pain, but Amery is sure the relief won't last long.

The room is silent for a few minutes, tense with the worry that every breath might be Jasper's last. Amery's focuses her attention on her stolen food, ripping it into small pieces in her hands and savoring the slightly burnt flavor of the unknown animal. Monty follows suit, evidently glad to be able to look at something other than Jasper.

"I'm going to get Clarke," Wells says abruptly, breaking the silence as he stands and stretches his arms above his head. "You should all probably consider getting some sleep."

"Fat chance," Monty mutters, leaning his chin on his hand as he continues to look softly at Jasper.

"Sleep," Cash moans from the floor on Jasper's other side. "That sounds fucking glorious."

He jumps up, taking his empty food skewer with him, and shakes his head so that his dark hair falls slightly into his eyes.

"You'll tell me if anything changes?" he asks, glancing from Monty to Jasper and back again. Monty nods, and Cash follows Wells out of the dropship with one more hesitant glance back at Jasper.

Amery and Monty sit side-by-side, breathing in tandem as they wait for something unknown. Clarke, maybe. Jasper waking up. A giant meteor crashing down from the sky and obliterating all life on earth for a second time.

"Hey," she murmurs, reaching out to play with the lace of her boot. She feels Monty's gaze shift to her in the quiet, but she doesn't make eye contact. "You–"

"I hate him!" Keaton barks as he bursts through the hatch, startling Amery so much that she actually yelps and scoots back against the wall. She hadn't even heard him coming up the ladder. "John Murphy can go do whatever the hell the Earth version of floating yourself is."

To anyone else, Keaton would appear to be radiating sheer anger, dripping off of him like sweat and injecting the air with a suffocating tension. But Amery hears every layer in her best friend's voice, and right at the core is something else entirely.

Fear.

Silently, Amery picks up the last skewer of meat and holds it up to Keaton. It's a wordless apology, a sorry I left you on the ground with the two evil Johns, but here's the food I stole to make up for it.

He blinks at it, then accepts it and sighs, sitting down next to her. "Thanks."

"I'll help you beat him up," Amery offers, and Keaton huffs in response as he gnaws on the meat, not bothering to take it off the skewer.

"He'll think I'm dead," Keaton says emotionlessly, staring at the ceiling. She knows who he's thinking of. His dad. Sinclair.

"He knows better than that," Amery protests, trying to lighten the mood. "Real bold of him to assume Keaton Sinclair can die."

Keaton scoffs. "He doesn't know. I mean, he hasn't seen me since I was–"

Amery inhales sharply and Keaton stops short, realizing the implications of what he's saying. That Sinclair never got to see his son grow up because of something Amery did. She knows that's not what he meant, what he was getting at, what he intended, but she knows that it's her fault.

It's not her fault Keaton took the blame for the crime. But it's her fault there was a crime to take blame for.

"Amery-"

A tap on her shoe draws her attention away from her thoughts momentarily. Monty.

She taps back.

"It's fine," Amery whispers, casting her eyes to where her hands sit in her lap. She looks back up at Keaton after a moment and smiles weakly. "Plus, he's got to know by now that I snuck down here. And I'm way too badass to let you die."

Keaton grins, rubbing his now empty wrist. He shakes his head lightly.

"Hey, Monty, I did it!" Fox's excited voice drifts through the room as she pokes her head through the hatch, pulling herself up with Clarke in close pursuit. Fox plops the bucket of boiling water down next to Monty with a triumphant grin, but it falls away as she takes in Jasper's condition with a gulp.

"Fox!" Monty exclaims, grinning up at the girl. "Thank you so much. That's a big help."

Amery gives the younger girl an awkward thumbs-up. Fox beams, attention successfully diverted from Jasper.

"Thank you, Fox," Clarke says softly, and Fox's smile stretches even wider before she bounds down the ladder again.

Clarke cleans Jasper's wound again and wipes more blood from his face, eliciting several cries of pain from the boy accompanied by winces from Amery, Monty, and Keaton. The three have taken over the other side of the small room, working in the light of a single lantern to get some response from a pile of wristbands, but to no avail.

Aside from Jasper's groans, the mechanics and the doctor work in silence. Until some ungrateful boy with a gruff voice shouts at Jasper from the first floor.

"Go back to sleep!"

"Asshole," Keaton mutters, eyes closed as he leans against the wall.

"Quiet!" The next yell comes from a different boy. Monty's attention seems divided between his incapacitated friend and the angry shouts from the floor below, the wristband in his hands forgotten, idly dragging across the floor.

Amery nudges him with her shoulder, taking the dead wristband from his hand and dropping it into the growing pile.

"Don't listen to them. You're gonna make it through this, okay?" Clarke tells Jasper reassuringly, though he probably can't hear her. "Promise."

She runs out of water soon enough. While Jasper is still pale and sickly, the blood has at least been wiped from his face and neck, matted hair pushed out of his face for the time being.

"Can he just die already?" someone shouts from below, and Amery's blood boils hotter than the water Fox heated up for them.

"I'm gonna get clean water," Clarke sighs, glancing at Amery and Monty in turn. "Keep an eye on him."

Monty moves to Jasper's side, leaving the wristbands to Amery and Keaton.

As Clarke's head of blonde hair disappears down the hatch, Amery sighs and takes in the sight of Jasper. She honestly can't believe this is the same boy who had eagerly bounded into the woods fresh off the dropship, goggles on his head and ready for adventure. He looks so vulnerable here, coated in blood and groaning as the pain rolls off him in waves.

But Amery knows the story. It was Jasper who saved Octavia from the river monster. It was him who got speared because he was brave enough to swing across the river first (and if a tiny part of her wishes it had been Finn, that's nobody's business but hers). If that's the case, Amery is sure he'll make it. He's a fighter.

All of these kids, Amery thinks, are strong in their own ways. What Jasper lacks in physical strength, he makes up for in courage. Clarke is a valuable asset with her level head and medical knowledge. Wells is the voice of reason. Keaton keeps her in check, Cash is her personal ray of sunshine, and Monty... well.

Monty is a lot of things.

"You were really good, you know," Amery says suddenly, looking at Monty in her peripheral vision. A natural, even, she thinks to herself.

"At what?"

"With Fox. You were... you were good," Amery explains, not sure how else to phrase it. Monty just laughs quietly.

"Good with kids?" He points at Jasper on the ground. "It's because I've been taking care of one my whole life." Amery snorts. Monty isn't wrong. She's glad he's able to make light of the situation, though maybe it's just a coping mechanism right now. She wouldn't blame him.

"Oh, god," Keaton laughs dryly from Amery's other side. "She's so scared of small children. You'd think they were poisonous."

"I'm not scared of them," Amery protests, shooting an offended glare at Keaton.

"Amery. One time a little girl tried to sit next to you in the mess hall and you went to the bathroom and never came back."

Monty starts laughing and Amery feels the blood rush to her face. "Prick," she mutters, elbowing Keaton in the ribs and earning an offended shout. To announce that she's boycotting their friendship, Amery stands and moves to the other side of the room, resolutely sitting down beside Monty and challenging Keaton with a what are you gonna do? expression.

"One time Keaton electrocuted himself," Amery announces to Monty, making eye contact with him from across the room.

Monty grins. "An engine?"

"Mer–" Keaton's eyes are wide, and he scrambles over, ready to slap a hand over her mouth, but it's too late. She shoots him a shit-eating grin and turns back to Monty.

"A toaster."

Keaton groans and buries his face in his hands, Monty doubling over in laughter on the other side of the room. Amery starts laughing, too, and all of a sudden everything seems like it's okay, even just for a moment.

"Thanks," Monty chuckles, leaning back on his elbows with a sigh. "I needed that."

"I think we all did," Keaton admits with a crooked smile. "But what about you?"

"Yeah, Green," Amery says eagerly. "Give us an embarrassing story."

Monty rolls his eyes, running his hands down his face exaggeratedly. He hums thoughtfully before breaking out in a grin. "Right. So, one time Jasper and I were–"

"High?" Amery asks, and Monty gives her an offended look. "It's a fair question!"

"Sober, thank you very much," Monty retorts, then pulls his bottom lip between his teeth in a frown. "I think."

Keaton laughs and then slaps a hand over his mouth at Monty's narrowed eyes, trying to speak between gasps. "Go– go on," he wheezes, and Monty rolls his eyes again.

"Jasper and I were playing hide and seek," he continues, "and he had those stupid goggles pulled over his eyes. So I looked for him in the cabinet by his bed, because he was a dumbass and always hid in the same spot."

Amery thinks she knows where this is going, and she grins.

"So I open it, expecting him to be there," Monty says, "and then he comes out of nowhere from the other side of the room and screams, tackling me, with the goggles on, and I may or may not have screamed...and... peed... my pants."

"Oh my god," Amery cries, laughing so hard she's rolling on the floor. The image of a young Monty screaming as Jasper plows into him from across the room is all the serotonin she's ever needed.

"I told him that's not how you freaking play hide and seek," Monty says bitterly, but he's smiling. "And then when the Guard got us, I was like, thank god, at least he'll finally lose the goggles."

Keaton raises an eyebrow and gestures at the goggles that are lying next to Jasper on the floor.

"Yeah. He didn't."

Amery snorts.

"Shit," Monty murmurs, and Amery sits up, concerned.

"What?"

"I think..." Monty murmurs, lost in thought, "I think we actually were stoned."

Keaton laughs so hard Amery fears he might actually stop breathing, and she can't help but follow suit. If the three of them can find joy in the darkness of a broken metal ship, one of their friends in critical condition just feet away, maybe they've got a shot down here. Maybe.

After a moment, Amery realizes that Clarke hasn't returned from her water run. She sits up on her elbows, pursing her lips and letting them fall into a frown.

"It's taking Clarke this long to get water?" A bit of concern has started building in her gut. She's not sure if the worry is for Clarke or for Jasper's lack of water.

"Should I go–" Keaton starts to ask, but as if on cue, Clarke climbs up through the hatch, water bucket in tow. She yawns and plops the bucket down on the ground beside Jasper with a big sigh. Amery raises an eyebrow.

"That was... a while," she says carefully, and Clarke sighs.

"Charlotte," she says by way of explanation. "The kid's barely thirteen. She was having nightmares."

More kids. Fantastic.

Amery prays the nightmares evade everyone in the dropship as she feels herself succumbing to sleep against the wall, sandwiched in a pocket of warmth between Keaton and Monty. She thinks she hears him whisper a quiet "thanks" before she drifts off for the night.

✧✧✧

The crick in Amery's neck from sleeping against the dropship wall is really not boding well for her as she stares down at the wristband, thinking that maybe if she can just will it to come back to life, it will.

It won't.

She rubs at her neck and winces, rolling it to the other side in a vain effort to ease the discomfort. Keaton's quiet snort doesn't escape her notice.

"Your shoulder's a shit pillow," she mutters, and Keaton just grins.

"You never learn from your mistakes."

There's truth in his words, though Amery would never admit it. She'd taken many impromptu naps on the taller boy's shoulder over the years, unfailingly waking up with a crick in her neck and always blaming Keaton for his bony stature.

"The Grounders cauterized the wound," Clarke muses, drawing Amery's attention from across the room. She scoots forward just slightly to see Clarke, sitting next to Finn at Jasper's side, and follows the blonde's gaze to the dried-up poultice stretched across his skin. "Saved his life."

"Saved his life so they could string him up for live bait," Finn mutters. "Garden of Eden this ain't."

"Ain't?" Amery snickers, then pulls her lips into a thin line when Finn glares at her. Right. Not the time.

"This is infected. He could be septic," Clarke mutters, worry creasing her brows. "Any progress on using the wristbands to contact the Ark? Monty? Amery?"

"That would be a firm no," Monty says flatly, eyes downcast. Amery, humming lightly in consensus, squeezes his shoulder reassuringly, fiddling with another dead wristband with her free hand.

"My mother would know what to do," Clarke says softly, eyes far away. For a moment, Amery really does feel bad for Clarke. She knows what it's like to miss family. But Clarke doesn't know what it's like to have none, Amery reminds herself, nails digging into the fabric of her pants.

She knows she shouldn't be comparing Clarke's hardships to her own, that one situation being objectively "worse" doesn't invalidate the other, but a simmering anger from years of denial and grief clouds her judgment. She shakes her head and diverts her attention to Wells, who has just sauntered up to Clarke.

"How's he doing?" The boy hesitantly hovers a few feet away, evidently afraid of backlash. Moments later, the fear proves to be valid.

"How does it look like he's doing, Wells?" Clarke snaps, and Wells flinches away. Her tone is so harsh that Amery feels Monty wince next to her, too.

"Hey," Wells defends, holding his hands up in surrender. "I'm just trying to help."

Jasper groans in pain again, writhing on the floor. Amery frowns, watching the sweat beading his hairline and the sickly coloring of his skin against his bony cheeks. She sucks in a breath, hating how hopeless the situation seems.

"Right. You want to help? Hold him down," Clarke instructs, eyes hard.

"I'm not gonna like this, am I?" Monty gulps, setting a wristband on the ground and instead resorting to tangling his fingers together, unable to keep them still. Clarke just fixes the nervous boy with a solemn stare, and Keaton crosses the room to assist her.

"Oh, god," Amery mutters when Clarke starts heating up a knife, knowing exactly what's coming. "No. You're not gonna like this. Don't look," she tells Monty, shielding his eyes with her hand as she squeezes her own shut.

Right when the waiting becomes almost too much, right when Amery almost cracks her eyes open to see what the holdup is, Jasper screams.

It's heart-wrenching, echoing through the walls of the broken-down dropship, a different kind of agony than the screams Monty described from the day Jasper was speared. Those were screams of fear and desperation. This is a scream of pure pain, and Amery feels a sharp stab of heat in her abdomen as if the knife is touching her, too, like the very sound of Jasper in agony is reaching out and attacking the girl on its own accord, a phantom pain slicing through her ribcage relentlessly.

"Hold him still," Clarke urges through the noise. "I need to cut away the infected flesh." Amery risks a glance at the scene before her, but an urgent shout from Octavia Blake tears her attention away before she can take it in.

She's just burst through the hatch, nearly breathless, a crazed look in her eyes and panic etched across her features. "Stop it!" she cries, rushing over to Jasper. "You're killing him."

"She's trying to save his life," Finn snaps back, eyes narrowed at the younger Blake.

"She can't," Bellamy's voice chimes in, and Amery immediately wants to spit and who the hell asked you? But that would be defending Clarke, and she's not sure they're quite there yet. Amery didn't even notice Bellamy coming in, but she'd really rather he didn't.

Wells turns to Bellamy, glaring. "Back off," he warns, but Bellamy isn't threatened by the Chancellor's son.

"We didn't drag him through miles of woods just to let him die," Clarke retorts, and Monty tenses at the word die. That only makes the spark of fierce indignation in Amery's gut grow brighter. Jasper will not be dying today.

"Kid's a goner. If you can't see that, you're deluded," Bellamy states, unconcerned. "He's making people crazy."

Like you weren't already? Amery thinks, but bites her tongue, drawing blood. The coppery tang that fills her mouth grounds her.

"Sorry if Jasper's an inconvenience to you, but this isn't the Ark," Clarke hisses, glaring daggers at Bellamy. "Down here, every life matters."

"Take a look at him. He's a lost cause."

Amery will not admit that– not out loud, and not to herself. Not only because she refuses to agree with Bellamy on anything, but because Jasper has to survive. She can't afford to entertain any other option. His death would destroy Monty, which would destroy any chance of contact with the Ark. His death would break Cash, which would stress out Keaton. His death would send Octavia off the rails, and that's definitely not something anyone wants to see.

In the span of a day, Jasper has proven himself to be an integral part of this camp. Amery's hardly ever had a conversation with the boy, but his charisma and the energy that draws other people to him has to mean something. She doesn't know why, but she cares about this scrawny, dorky, goggle-wearing stoner.

"Octavia, I've spent my whole life watching my mother heal people. If I say there's hope, there's hope," Clarke assures her.

"This isn't about hope," Bellamy scoffs. "It's about guts. You don't have the guts to make the hard choices. I do. He's been like this for three days. If he's not better by tomorrow, I'll kill him myself."

"Oh, no you fucking won't," Amery blurts, springing to her feet and taking an angry step toward Bellamy. The death threat was her last straw. All of the anger built up from Bellamy's snarky comments and holier-than-thou attitude, the way he finds himself to be above everyone else, his double standards and ever-changing rules... all of it has finally become too much. She feels all eyes on her, senses Clarke debating whether she should intervene, but she ignores it. She has something to say.

"You are so incredibly deluded by your own ego that you have no regard for another human life. You hate the people up there, the ones who kill innocents, who locked up your sister for being born?" Amery spits, waving her arm at the sky to reference the Ark. "You hate how unjust the Ark's justice system is, the total disregard Jaha has for the rest of his population?"

Amery sees Wells flinch in her peripherals at the mention of his father, but she's too busy seething to do anything about it. She wouldn't be surprised if smoke starting billowing from her ears.

"Right now, you are no better than them, Blake," Amery says lowly, getting right up in Bellamy's face. Her eyes are as fiery as her hair, and her threatening gaze could rival Clarke's. "Right now, you're worse." Her voice is almost a growl, and she clenches her fists at her sides as she glares directly into Bellamy's eyes, refusing to budge.

Bellamy meets Amery with a blank stare, unwilling to reveal whether her words have had any effect on him. He diverts his gaze to his sister, kneeling next to Jasper on the floor.

"Octavia, let's go."

Amery scoffs, but doesn't take her glare off of Bellamy.

"I'm staying here," Octavia says, no room for argument in her flat tone. Her voice doesn't carry across the room, and Amery deduces that she didn't even bother to turn and look at her brother. Bellamy pauses for a moment, then spins on his heel and storms away.

As he grudgingly climbs down the dropship's ladder, a new appreciation for Octavia rises in Amery. The girl from under the floor won't be defined by what her brother wants her to be, despite whatever obligation she might be feeling just because he came to the Ground for her.

Amery finally unclenches her fists, trying to let the tension leave her shoulders as a little of her anger fizzles out.

"That," Monty says with a low whistle, drawing Amery's gaze back to him, "was badass."

Amery lets out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, collapsing on the floor next to Monty and smiling humorlessly. "Someone had to say it." She huffs. "Dick."

Monty hums in agreement. "Power-hungry, self-serving jackass. He doesn't care about anyone but himself." He then remembers that he's in the presence of Bellamy's only family and snaps his gaze to the girl in question. "No offense."

Octavia just shrugs, unconcerned. Even she can't argue with the fact that her brother is too entitled for his own good.

"Yeah. Bellamy is all that," Finn mutters, and Amery jumps, because in all honesty, she'd completely forgotten he was here. "But he also happens to be right."

Clarke stares at Finn with wide eyes, disbelief written all over her darkened features.

Amery just blinks at him. "Pretty sure everyone else in this room is here to save Jasper's life, Spacewalker, so if that's not you, the hatch is over there."

Finn blinks at the two girls, raising his hands in surrender.

And then he stands up and walks away like the coward he is.

✧✧✧

Amery eats her rations quietly and without complaint, letting herself sag against the wall in exhaustion. Her body is tired, but so is her mind. If they can't find a way to contact the Ark soon, Amery knows they're screwed, but she, Monty, and Keaton just can't seem to keep a wristband alive long enough for that to happen.

Monty kneels over Jasper's shadowed figure on the ground, trying to soothe him with unintelligible words as he fights against an attacker no one else can see. Octavia sits a short distance away, bright eyes wide with worry.

Maybe if Jasper Jordan weren't wobbling on the brink of death next to their workspace, if they weren't running out of food on a planet with two-headed deers and giant river snakes, if they weren't concerned about the Grounders bursting into their camp and sticking a javelin through every person's heart like a human kebob, Amery could focus.

But she can't, and it feels so... hopeless.

Keaton pushes through the hatch and tiredly makes his way over to his best friend, letting himself slide down the wall beside her with a sigh.

"Clarke went with Finn and Wells to get whatever Jasper's poultice was made of," he explains through a yawn, and Amery finds herself unconsciously mimicking the action. "She thinks it's antibiotic. Could save Jasper."

For a moment, Amery lets herself hope. It seems too good to be true that a simple plant could save Jasper's life, but...

Harper's words from the other day come back to her: She'd read that trees created oyxgen. She thought that if she put the tree in her room, maybe her mom would be able to breathe better again. A tiny plant was what changed the course of Zoe's entire life– Harper's, too.

The petals of the poison sumac flower in her pocket feel thin between her calloused fingers, but the blossom has retained its color against all odds. It seems that plants hold more power than she had realized.

Who's to say a little seaweed can't save Jasper's life?

"I hope they find it," she whispers, leaning into Keaton's side.

"They will."

A moment passes in silence before Keaton remembers something else, turning to look down at Amery. "Bellamy organized a hunting party, too," he says. Amery raises a brow, wondering why Bellamy Blake's newest pastime is relevant information, and Keaton hesitates. "Cash went with them."

"Why is Cash hanging out with Bellamy?" Amery groans, letting her face fall into the fabric of Keaton's shirt. "One's nice. One's mean. Doesn't match." Her words are muffled in Keaton's sleeve, and the mechanic finds herself too exhausted to come up with a more clever comment demeaning the eldest Blake sibling. Octavia snorts from across the room, but doesn't argue.

"Opposites attract," Keaton mutters bitterly, and Amery's analysis of his tone is interrupted by two overly eager girls bursting through the hole in the floor. Harper and Zoe lug sleeping bags and blankets behind them, marching up to Amery and dropping them unceremoniously at her feet. Harper breathes heavily, flopping down on the floor after the sleeping bags, but Zoe looks entirely unaffected by the apparently strenuous journey from the tent to the dropship.

"Uh," Amery says lamely, looking up at the two girls, who have oddly determined expressions on their faces. "Hi?"

"We've come to force you to take care of yourself, because god knows you won't do it on your own," Harper grins, kicking a blankets toward Amery. "And we miss you. You left the tent after sleeping in it one time and haven't been back since. Did we scare you away that fast?"

Harper glances at Monty and Octavia, raising her hand in a half-wave that Monty returns.

Her tone is teasing, but Amery still feels a pang of guilt. She hadn't even realized. It seems days pass in the span of minutes down here, but are also somehow drawn out to the point that they start to bleed into one another. It probably doesn't help that Amery spends most of her time cooped up in the dropship with no natural light to indicate the time of day.

"Sorry," she murmurs sheepishly, and Zoe just sighs. Her hair is pulled into the same two braids, but they've become loose and messy, caked with dirt and grime. How does Zoe Monroe manage to make dirt look good? It's wildly unfair, Amery thinks.

"We're just worried about you," Zoe says gently, crossing her arms over her chest loosely. "We need to–"

Her speech is interrupted by a swarm of kids legging it into the dropship, hoods or shirts pulled over their faces as they seem to share a collective fit of coughing. The sound of the door slamming shut downstairs startles Amery, and more kids hurry up the ladder and slam every panel letting light in closed.

"Hey–" Amery tries to stop one of the boys as he runs by to ask what's going on, but it's no use. Her voice is lost in the cacophony of panic. The crowd of kids rubs at their eyes and trips over their feet, getting as far from the doorway as possible.

"What's going on?" Monty asks urgently, gaze flickering around the room frantically. Amery finds herself rushing to his side, dragging Keaton behind her, creating a barrier between Jasper and the other kids. Zoe and Harper follow with their blankets and sleeping bags, making room for the sudden onslaught of company.

"Air got thick. Everybody's skin started burning," a girl explains in a rush as kids anxiously scratch at their arms and exposed necks. Amery thinks she recognizes Kip from across the room, counterintuitively taking his shirt off for whatever reason.

"Monty, my brother's out there," Octavia cries, leaning toward him desperately as if he can offer her the solutions to all the world's problems.

"He'll be fine," Monty says quickly, but his expression betrays him. His brown eyes remain wide as he takes in the chaos surrounding him. "We'll all be fine."

Keaton tenses next to Amery, his shoulders going rigid. "Cash."

Harper and Zoe exchange a look, then sigh and flop down on either side of Amery. "Dropship mates," Zoe says flatly, and Harper releases a humorless snort.

"Yay."

✧✧✧

Eventually, Monty and Keaton manage to get the delinquents packed into the first floor, giving Jasper some breathing room in the space above. The task doesn't prove very difficult, as it soon becomes evident that none of the teens can stand Jasper's cries for long. Amery finds herself between Monty and Keaton on the floor again, Harper and Zoe tangled up in each other in a pile of blankets in front of her.

She feels a swell of appreciation for the girls as they snore softly, an overwhelming sense of pride and respect and gratitude. They really care about her, and they hardly even know her. They took the time out of their day to come and make sure she was taking care of herself, even in the face of much bigger concerns.

Amery promises herself that she'll return the favor. Harper and Zoe deserve the world. Maybe not this world, but a better one.

"Where the hell is Cash?" Keaton grumbles, and through his mask of irritability, Amery notes real concern. His fingers tap nervously against his thighs as his eyes flicker to the door and back to his shoes, waiting for his friend to reappear. "He should be back by now. They all should."

"It's Cash," Amery says, hoping her voice sounds more reassuring than she feels. "He'll be okay."

Keaton says nothing else, gazing at the metal of the entryway until he falls asleep, dozing off on Amery's shoulder this time. For a while, aside from the periodic groans from the second level and the complaints of sleep-deprived kids on the first, it's quiet.

"Thank you," Monty says into the darkness.

"For what?" Amery whispers, craning her neck to see him in the lantern light trickling through the second-floor vents.

"For saying what you said to Finn earlier today. I'm not... I'm not really great at confrontation," the boy admits sheepishly. "And I'm really glad someone put him in his place. Glad it was... glad it was you."

"My absolute pleasure, Green," Amery says with a breath of silent laughter. "I'll yell at Spacewalker anytime you want."

"Anytime?" Monty grins, hair flopping into his eyes as he tilts his head inquisitively.

"Well, not right now. I'm kind of comfortable," Amery admits, yawning. Monty edges slightly closer to her, his thigh brushing against hers.

"Do I get to nickname you, since you call me Green?" Monty asks after a moment of silence. Amery shrugs noncommittally. "What's your last name?"

"Ekker." She's been told it's Dutch, but she's never really attached any meaning to its origins. The nationalities that used to divide the earth weren't relevant on the other side of the atmosphere.

Monty hums in thought. "If you call me Green, I'm calling you Red."

"Oh my god. A ginger joke," Amery groans, running her hands through her hair. "This is my legacy."

"It's not just your hair," Monty laughs softly, and Amery tilts her head in question. "It's just your... your personality. Confrontational. Bold." He hesitates. "Bright."

"Well, shucks," Amery grins, and then she shifts her body to the left, allowing her head to fall onto Monty's shoulder. "I'm making you my pillow now," she announces through a yawn. "Night, Green."

"Night, Red."

✧✧✧

a/n:

this chapter took me SO LONG for NO GOOD REASON. i like how it turned out, though. lots of meaningful little moments between amery and her pals.

i was going to try to get to episode four in this chapter, but all of a sudden i was at 8k words and i was like dang, okay, time to stop.

what's the amery and monty ship name vibe, guys? amery, monty, ekker, green? do what you will.

where do we think cash is? HOW do we think cash is?

also, what do you guys think amery's crime was? 👀

also amery yelling at bellamy blake is my aesthetic

i love bellamy but currently amery sees him as the world's most self-entitled prick and it's so funny

let me know what you thought & what you'd like to see next! thank you for reading!

[ word count: 8.3k ]