✧】iii. forest horse-lookin' things【✧

[ earth skills ]

THE SOUND OF heavy footsteps pulls Amery's attention to the entrance of the dropship, the sound almost reluctant against the chill of the metal floors. Wells tosses a black jacket in her direction and she catches it silently with one hand, raising a brow in question.

"You needed better clothes," he states by way of explanation, making himself at home on the floor. Amery slides down the wall next to him and tilts her head as he dumps a pair of cargo pants and an extra shirt in her lap. She places the lantern in her other hand down beside her, today's project being the rehabilitation of the dropship into something useful. "They're probably too big, but looks like you're surrounded by solutions." His eyes flicker across the mass of red seatbelts littering the floor, and Amery smirks.

"Where'd you get these?" she asks, holding the jacket to her chest and shooting Wells a look of gratitude.

Wells grimaces, and the realization shocks Amery as she lets the jacket slip to the floor. "Oh, god," she gulps, taking in the dirt smearing Wells' face and shoes. "These are..."

The clothes of the two dead space-walking kids. Thanks to Finn, a voice in the back of her mind says, but she shakes it off. No use dwelling on what she can't change.

Then again, that's never stopped her before.

"I know," Wells says softly, "but they're still resources. And you need better clothes." Amery smiles softly, realizing that she's gone right from her bed to the dropship to Earth completely unprepared. The pants are dirty and wrought with holes, but they're better than the flimsy pair she'd slipped on to go work on the communications systems only a few nights before.

She surveys Wells' solemn expression, noting the sweat and dirt coating his skin and the sorrow creasing his brows. When she looks at him, she doesn't see the face of Thelonius Jaha. She sees a boy bearing the weight of his father's reputation on his shoulders, desperately trying to prove himself in a camp of delinquents cursing his last name.

She recalls the way he'd stood up to Bellamy last night, the way he'd gathered rainwater in buckets without complaint, the way his shoulders had tensed when he approached the etched FIRST SON, FIRST TO DYE on the side of the dropship's gray paneling.

Amery might hate the Chancellor, but the Chancellor is not his son.

"Thank you," Amery says sincerely, trying to shake off the concept of wearing a dead man's clothes. Wells is right. There's no use in wasting resources. The boy nods, and Amery's gaze flickers to his bare wrist. "Wells–"

"Blake and Murphy," he mutters, leaning his head against the wall, and Amery snorts. Wells raises a brow in question and Amery grimaces at the memory of earlier that morning.

"I had to kick Bellamy out of here earlier," she explains, slipping her arms into the dark denim jacket. It fits loosely and wraps her in a cocoon of warmth and security, reminding her of the old shirts she used to steal from Keaton on the Ark. "I'm pretty sure he was about to get it on with some girl."

Wells snorts, and shrugs as if to say what did you expect?

Just then, Harper stumbles through the strips of fabric serving as the dropship's door, running a tired hand down her face. The disruption opens a window of sound, letting the noise of angry shouts and a few kids drumming on buckets drift through the space before the curtain swings closed, cutting Amery off from the great outdoors once again.

"If I have to listen to one more pair of idiots having their first round of Earth sex," Harper complains loudly by way of greeting, not bothering to complete the threat. Amery and Wells exchange a look and burst out laughing, the sound echoing off the tinny walls of the dropship.

"What?" Harper asks, throwing her hands up in the air in exasperation. This only makes Amery and Wells laugh harder, the warmth of the action bubbling in Amery's chest, and Harper finally succumbs to the sheer happiness of the atmosphere and joins the two on the floor, chuckling to herself. "You guys are weird. Hey, nice jacket."

Amery opens her mouth to respond, but then the sound of a girl's high-pitched scream pierces the air. Wells shoots to his feet, pulling Harper and Amery up with him, the latter still clutching a pair of beige pants to her chest, the former muttering an irritated "I just sat down!"

The trio runs down the ramp of the dropship in alarm, and Amery barrels right into the back of Keaton, who steadies her with a hand on her shoulder.

"Damn, Mer," he murmurs, but his eyes are distracted, scanning the area of the camp in confusion.

"What was that?" Amery asks nervously, barely noticing Harper inching closer to her side.

"We're about to find out," says another kid. It's the lanky blond from the night before– Kip, Amery thinks– bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet eagerly.

"We'll go check it out," Keaton says calmly, looking at Harper and Amery's worried expressions. "Carefully. Promise. Be right back." He heads off with Kip, and Harper exchanges a glance with Amery.

"He wants us to stay," Amery says flatly, and Harper scoffs. She looks at the dropship, then Amery, then Keaton's figure getting smaller as he gets further into the camp. Then she grabs Amery's hand and pulls her down the ramp, muttering something about like hell we are.

She stops a few feet away, spinning on her heel and looking up at Amery. "Wait. Pants," she says, pointing to the clothing in the other girl's arms.

"Um, yeah," Amery raises an eyebrow. "Pants."

"No, put them on," Harper elaborates, a goofy smile on her face. "Some dick will try to steal them if you just walk around carrying them."

Shaking her head but knowing Harper is right, Amery slips behind the dropship and pulls on the new cargo pants. She ties them around her waist with a thick seatbelt and takes a step back in Harper's direction before freezing.

Turning around again, she kneels next to her old pair of pants and gently removes her leaf from the pocket. It's a lighter green when she holds it up to the sunlight, and she smiles, checking the smallest pockets of her cargo pants for holes and sliding it into the safest one. Then she runs up to Harper, chucking her old pair of pants in the dropship's general direction.

"Let's go."

✧✧✧

They're the last to reach the scene, climbing a small hill and pushing through a crowd of rowdy onlookers to find Wells and Murphy sprawled in the dirt. A girl in a ratty cap stands off to the side, holding her wrist, and Bellamy watches the fight unfold with a pensive look on his face.

Amery claps a hand over her mouth as Wells land a hard punch to Murphy's jaw, his head falling limply to the ground.

The Chancellor's son has turned back to Bellamy, pleading. "Don't you see you can't control this?" he cries, gesturing to Murphy and the riled crowd.

She hears Keaton's voice before she sees the knife, before she registers a bloody-faced Murphy stumbling in Wells' direction mumbling something along the lines of "you're dead."

"Wells!"

Wells spins to find Keaton stumbling into the clearing, barreling right into Murphy. The crowd cheers at the sight of the two boys tangled together in the dirt, Keaton maintaining a white-knuckled grip on the wrist of Murphy's knife-wielding hand.

Murphy flips, and suddenly Keaton is the one on the ground, his attacker straining against his grip to bring the knife closer to Keaton's throat.

"Hey!" Amery shouts, and an arm wraps around her waist to pull her back as she struggles to intervene.

"Amery, no," Zoe's voice murmurs in her ear, level with reason. But Amery doesn't want to listen to reason right now. She wants to listen to the jolts of anger shooting through her nerves like a wake-up call. The suffocating tentacles of panic grip her heart like a python, and all Amery wants is to lash out at Murphy in a blind sort of rage.

"Let me go," she growls through gritted teeth, but Bellamy's actions allow her heart to settle momentarily in her chest. He grabs Murphy and pulls him to his feet, stopping him from moving forward with a hand across his chest.

"Wait," he demands in that low, authoritative tone of his. He draws a knife from his pocket, dropship metal bound to a hilt with a length of rope, and holds it expectantly in front of Keaton.

"Fair fight." Keaton heaves in a breath, pushing himself up and making to grab the knife.

"No," Wells says, his voice loud and firm. Before Keaton can protest, Wells snatches the knife from Bellamy's hand and turns to face Murphy, anger rolling in waves off his tense expression. "It's my fight."

"Wells–"

"No," he says, fixing Keaton with a meaningful look. An understanding passes between them, and Keaton takes a step back.

Zoe releases her hold on Amery, who rushes over to Keaton and tugs him back into the safety of the crowd.

"You idiot," she seethes, but he barely registers the words, eyes trained on the space where Wells and Murphy are circling each other. Murphy has the audacity to grin, a criminal in his element, stirring up trouble where it doesn't need to be, and Amery forces herself to exhale slowly to keep from yelling at the boy.

Murphy strikes first, aiming for Wells' stomach in quick jabs, then scoring a slice to the boy's arm as he twists and runs at him full-speed.

"Wells!" Keaton shouts, panic filling his eyes, and Amery tightens her grip on his arm. Her strength is no match for his, but she's hoping the touch will ground him, drive some sense into him the way Sinclair's quiet shoulder touches always did for her.

"This is for my father!" Murphy screams, voice jagged, and Amery swears she barely blinks before Wells has Murphy in a chokehold, knife to his neck.

"Drop it!" he screams in Murphy's face, a primal sort of anger that Amery's never seen on the boy before.

"Wells!"

This time, it's not Keaton's voice calling his name. The loud, commanding voice of a girl brings a heavy wave of silence over the clearing, and Clarke Griffin storms up to the battle with a furious and exasperated expression on her face. "Let him go!"

Wells throws Murphy to the ground, finally allowing the tension to seep from Keaton's shoulders. Amery deems it safe to release her grasp on the boy's arm as her eyes find Finn behind Clarke. Her hand flies to her pocket, unconsciously twirling her leaf between her fingers as she scans the space behind the recently returned explorers.

Bellamy restrains an angry Murphy, but Amery's attention is somewhere else. Octavia limps into view, one arm slung around Monty and the other around Cash. The boys support her until they can hand her off to her brother.

Cash plops down on a log next to Finn, his usual buzzing energy evaporated. He casts his gaze to the dirt, as if his shoelaces hold the secrets of the universe. But Monty just stands where Octavia and Bellamy left him, slowly turning in a circle, and Amery's heart pangs because he looks so lost.

She looks expectantly in the direction he came from, but there's no movement.

She ignores Keaton's exasperated "where are you going now?" as she bounds down the hill and to Monty's side, putting a hesitant hand on his elbow and drawing his attention. His eyes are glazed over, far away, and he seems almost confused about where he is.

"Monty?" she asks quietly, raising her eyebrows expectantly. "Monty."

"Hm?" the boy murmurs, eyes clearing a little as he looks down at her.

"Hey. Are you okay?"

Monty shakes his head almost imperceptibly, a heartbreaking, unspoken no.

"Monty, where's Jasper?" Amery asks, pulling the boy into her arms. She's hardly known him for a day, but the stark contrast between the carefree, leaf-waving boy who left camp and the suffocating silence of the one who returned makes her angry at whoever did this, at whatever happened. When she pulls away, she's met with dark eyes holding a brutal combination of anguish and shock and confusion. "Monty, I–"

"They took him," a voice croaks, and it takes a moment for Amery to register that it belongs to Cash. "They took Jasper."

Amery's mind starts whirling, thoughts of all the horrible things that could have happened to the goggle-clad boy, thoughts of how Monty must be feeling, thoughts of how Amery herself would feel if they had taken Keaton. But she manages to ask the most important question.

"They?"

Finn pipes up, a grim expression on his usually carefree face. "It turns out, when the last man from the ground died on the Ark," he sighs, "he wasn't the last Grounder." A shock ripples through the crowd and Amery tightens her hand around Monty's arm in response, a combination of surprise and irritation vibrating in her chest. Finn looks like he's just sitting around a campfire, telling a scary ghost story complete with dramatic pauses and gasps from the audience, not informing a camp that one of their own has just been apprehended by a mysterious enemy.

She can't find the words to follow the rapid exhale leaving her mouth in disbelief. Others. Grounders. People who the radiation didn't kill.

"We think Jasper crossed into their territory," Cash gulps, looking Amery in the eyes. "We didn't even see them. There was just this spear that came out of nowhere. And then we went back when we heard him scream, and he was... he was gone." The seriousness of Cash's expression makes Amery's heart pang in sympathy and exhaustion. She doesn't need to consult Keaton to know that Cash isn't himself. Cash is smiles and sunshine and unexpected embraces that leave you feeling warm and probably a little confused. This Cash is shaken and small and afraid.

But Cash is doing good in comparison to the boy next to Amery. Grief and confusion pool in Monty's dark eyes as he listens to Cash recount the story, and Amery is struck by the sudden urge to pull him into another hug. But somehow she knows that isn't what he wants right now, what he needs right now, because the despair over losing Jasper needs its own space that she shouldn't try to take up.

Instead, she pulls lets her arm fall to her side, sliding her foot forward just slightly so that the tip of her boot touches the side of Monty's shoe. It's barely anything, but she taps the soles together so lightly she's not sure if she even did it. But then Monty raises his eyes to hers, and the corner of his mouth twitches just a little.

"It's true," Clarke's voice rings out as she turns to address the crowd. "Everything we thought we knew about the ground is wrong. There are people here, survivors. The good news is, that means we can survive. Radiation won't kill us."

No shit, Amery thinks, but she gives Clarke a small nod to humor her.

"Yeah," Finn huffs, his voice monotone and low. "The bad news is... the Grounders will."

Clarke's eyes snap to Wells' wrist then, and she gives him a murderous glare. "Where's your wristband?"

"Ask him," Wells scoffs, glaring daggers at Bellamy.

Clarke's jaw tenses as she approaches Bellamy, and Amery is actually slightly scared for the taller boy. "How many?"

If looks could kill, Amery is sure Bellamy would have just died in a very graphic and painful way.

"Twenty-four and counting," Murphy chimes in, a cocky smile on his face. The grin paired with the drying blood makes him look like an utter psychopath– and maybe he is. Amery doesn't remember what he was in the Skybox for, but she's fairly certain there was malicious intent behind whatever his undoubtedly violent crime was.

"You idiots," Clarke reprimands, a whisper that somehow grips the air with the same tenacity as a shout. "Life support on the Ark is failing. That's why they brought us down here."

Amery's heart stutters in her chest, and Keaton shoves his way into the crowd, ferocity blazing in his eyes. "What?"

It doesn't take a genius to know what's racing through his mind.

Sinclair.

"Yeah. They shoved me in the Skybox to keep the secret," Clarke says bitterly. "They need to know the ground is survivable again." Clarke turns away from Keaton and continues, "And we need their help against whoever is out there. If you take off your wristbands, you're not just killing them. You're killing us!"

"We're stronger than you think," Bellamy retorts, his public-speaking voice rising over the clamor of the gathered crowds. "Don't listen to her. She's one of the privileged. If they come down, she'll have it good," he spits. Amery has to resist rolling her eyes.

"You're still going with this?" Keaton cries, exasperation and desperation dripping from his tone. "You know they're going to die up there, and you don't want them to come down?"

"You know damn well you'll have it good, too, Daddy's boy," Bellamy seethes, raising his eyebrow in challenge. "How many of you can say the same?" His voice raises to a shout. "We can take care of ourselves. That wristband on your arm? It makes you a prisoner."

Anger swells in Amery's chest as she sees several kids look at their wristbands hesitantly, contemplating.

And if you take it off, you're Bellamy's prisoner, she wants to bite back, but she clamps her tongue between her teeth in a strained effort not to create more conflict.

"We are not prisoners anymore!" Bellamy shouts. "They say they'll forgive your crimes. I say you're not criminals!" Excited clamors rise from his audience, the sound bouncing through the surrounding trees and echoing in hollow spaces, an amplification of the massive cheer for freedom.

"Who are you to decide that?" Keaton shouts, marching up to Bellamy and jabbing a finger into his chest. "Who are you to take charge of this camp, act like you make the rules even when you claim there aren't any?"

Bellamy shoves him back, and Keaton stumbles into Wells, who steadies him with a hand on his lower back.

"You're fighters," Bellamy cries, not even addressing Keaton's argument. "Survivors! The Grounders should worry about us!"

A cry of agreement, years of anger and resentment of authority bubbling up and bursting to the surface, fills the clearing. Amery self-consciously rubs at her own bare wrist.

She hates the Council, too. She does. But that doesn't mean she wants everyone on the Ark to die. Women, children. Innocent people. Kyle. Raven. Sinclair.

Monty suddenly bursts into motion, walking in long, quick strides to catch up to Clarke as she storms past a small fire a short distance away. Amery follow unconsciously, falling in on Clarke's other side.

"What do we do now?" Monty asks.

Clarke stares straight ahead, a new purpose in her walk, grip tight on the strap of the pack slung over her shoulder. "Now," she decides, "we go after Jasper."

✧✧✧

Cash whistles lowly as Clarke storms into the dropship, bolting up the ladder and through the hatch without addressing her audience. "Damn," he says.

A beat later, Wells runs in and does the same thing, looking more urgent than angry. Keaton puts his head in his palm and lets out a long, heavy sigh, massaging his temples in frustration.

Monty is quiet next to Cash, taking his hands in and out of his pockets as if something will change each time.

"Hey," Amery says lowly, drawing his attention to her comforting expression. "We'll find him." She has no idea if that's true, but she can't afford to think any differently. Monty gulps and nods, probably thinking the same thing.

"Cash," Keaton interrupts, eyebrows raised. Amery knows this look, his "there's a question driving me insane" look, because she wears the same expression constantly. If there's one thing Amery despises, it's not knowing. She has an inkling of what Keaton wants to ask before he even says it. "What happened to Octavia?"

"You aren't even gonna believe it," Cash says, glancing at Monty momentarily. "There... holy shit, guys. There was like, this... no, okay, let me back up. So Octavia finds this river, right? And Clarke's all, 'Oh no, we can't swim!' and then Octavia strips," he emphasizes, gauging Amery and Keaton for a reaction.

Amery has to hold back a snort, because of course she did, of course the girl who called the trees her bitches and begged Finn to rescue her stripped in front of a river she couldn't swim in.

"It was shallow enough to stand, and all of a sudden we're all laughing, having a jolly old time," Cash says, waving his arms around dramatically. Amery smiles at the sight, a stark contrast to the grim and shocked Cash from only minutes ago that had messed with her heart so much. She can tell that he feels better now that there's a plan, a team going out to save Jasper.

"And then this thing comes and just attacks her. Like, picture one of those, uh, those snakes from our Earth Skills books, right? The funny lookin' green ones with the long tongues? And then multiply it by, like, a hundred, and you get this giant, weird-ass slithering river monster thing that wants to eat Octavia like she's a sixteen-course meal with two cherries on top," Cash exclaims, and this time Amery does laugh, because god, the way Cash describes things are so vividly weird. Even Monty can't help the slightest shake of his shoulders as he glances at the storyteller in his peripheral vision.

"And then?" Amery prompts, and Cash's eyes light up.

"Right. And then, we shove this rock into the water to distract it, and Jasper jumps into the water and pulls her out like a hero," Cash says, and then stops, slamming his mouth shut as he realizes the name he's just invoked. His eyes flicker hesitantly to Monty, and Amery realizes that at some point, his quiet shock morphed into a sort of buzzing, nervous energy. He looks less terrified and more ready to spring into action, maybe slay a "weird-ass slithering river monster" with his bare hands. Or with a plant.

To Amery's surprise, Monty is the one to pick up the story. "She's fine," he says lowly, and Cash smiles at the sound of his voice. "It bit her in the leg, but we got her out in time."

"We also saw a mutant deer," Cash adds, like an afterthought. Amery's heads shoots up.

"A what?"

"A deer, right? Those cute little forest horse-lookin' things?" Amery nods slowly, wondering what Cash is getting at. "One of those babies, but get this– it had two heads."

The brunet grins and elbows Keaton in the ribs. "Almost as two-faced as you, Sinclair."

"Excuse you," Keaton gasps, hand to his heart in mock offense. "I'm not the one who replaced a Guard baton with a pipe and and tried to convince him it was a trick of the light."

"It would've worked, too," Cash grumbles, crossing his arms, "if he hadn't had to grab for it while I was walking away. This kid screamed, just because she tripped, but the guy was all 'Oh my god, danger!' and tried to grab his baton and swoop in and save the day. And then he realized it was just a pipe." Cash pulls his lips into a pout. "I'm a sleight of hand god. Stupid kid."

Amery can't help it. She laughs. And Monty's mouth twitches in the smallest of smiles, and she can feel Keaton grinning next to her, and the mood is light again, if only for a moment.

Then Clarke drops down the ladder, boots pounding into the floor, the same resolute expression of action and determination emanating from her sharp features, and the mood is gone.

"It's not your ankle, Wells," she's saying, irritated. "It's you." She backs away from the ladder as Wells drops down, a look of disbelief on his face.

"You came back for reinforcements. I'm gonna help," he protests.

Monty starts forward. "Clarke, he's right," he reasons. "We need him. So far no one else has volunteered."

"I'll go," Amery says before she can think. Monty's head swivels, and she shrugs at the same time Keaton hisses, "what?"

"I'm sorry, Monty, Amery, but you're not going, either."

"Like hell I'm not!" Monty says, approaching Clarke. "Jasper's my best friend."

"Clarke," Amery says softly, but before she can make her argument, Clarke makes hers.

"You're too important," Clarke tells Monty. "You were raised on Farm Station and recruited by engineering."

"So?"

"So, food and communication. What's up here?" she taps Monty's temple, "It's gonna save us all. And Amery, we need mechanics around here. Those comm systems aren't gonna fix themselves."

Amery sighs, and Keaton seems to relax next to her. The younger girl bites the inside of her cheek. Is Keaton going to protest every time she tries to leave this camp? There's a whole world out there begging to be explored, and she's been hiding out in this dropship, acting no differently than she would have on an average day on the Ark.

"You figure out how to talk to the Ark," Clarke instructs, shifting her gaze between Monty and Amery, "and I'll bring Jasper back."

She seems to hesitate, something pulling at her conscience, before she takes a step closer to Amery. "And I'm, uh, sorry for what I said before," she says softly. "I was stressed and upset about being on the wrong mountain, and no one else was taking it seriously. I know you did a good job on those comms. And I'm... I'm glad you're here."

Amery is taken aback by Clarke's apology, noting the sincerity behind her words. Maybe this girl isn't as bad as she'd thought.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you," Amery replies, smiling. "And hey. Apology accepted. Now go."

With a smile, Clarke spins to find Finn standing behind her, greeting him with a "Hey! You ready?"

"I'm not going anywhere," Finn says, and Amery raises a brow in surprise. "And neither should any of you. That spear was thrown with pinpoint accuracy from 300 feet."

"So, what, we let Jasper die?" Monty asks, a slight edge in his voice as he glares disbelievingly at Finn.

"That's not gonna happen," Clarke assures him quickly before turning back to Finn. "Spacewalker? What a joke," she says. "You think you're such an adventurer. You're really just a coward." A puzzled look crosses his face, and Amery knows she's hit him where it hurts.

Something in Amery's mind clicks. Finn. Spacewalker. This guy is Raven's boyfriend, and she curses herself for not realizing it earlier. She hasn't seen him since he was arrested, only having met him twice before that. His hair was shorter then, his entire being more lively. Raven gets a far-away, sad look in her eyes any time he's brought up, so Amery stopped. But here he is. Are they still together?

"It's not an adventure, Clarke," Finn defends. "It's a suicide mission."

"Build a wall," Wells demands. "Use the fallen trees. I'll watch out for her." He brushes past Finn, pulling Keaton into a hug and pounding him lightly on the back.

Amery gulps as she studies the way Finn looks at Clarke.

She hopes he and Raven aren't together anymore, because she deserves better than this.

"Look out for yourself," Keaton murmurs, and Wells give a resolute nod.

"I'll be back." Then he's down the dropship ramp and out of sight, a confused Finn left in his wake.

"Jasper looked up to you," Monty spits at the taller boy, who gives him an unimpressed look. Amery thinks he's going to continue, but he turns and grabs her hand instead, leading her to the ladder. "After you."

His voice leaves no room for argument. Amery heads up the ladder and through the hatch, into the dusty darkness of the second floor.

✧✧✧

They work side by side in the light of a spare lantern, poking at wristbands and pulling wires from the walls. The rhythm is familiar and cathartic, another problem that Amery can solve step by step.

"When did engineering recruit you?" she asks as Monty drops a short-circuited wristband to the floor with a defeated sigh. "I never saw you around." Amery likes to think she'd have remembered meeting a boy like Monty.

"A year before the Skybox," he admits. "Kyle Wick. I was thirteen."

"You know Kyle?" Amery stops what she's doing, the memory of a smirking blond coming to mind, and Monty wrinkles his nose.

"Nobody ever calls him Kyle."

"I do," Amery beams, tilting her head to the side mischievously. "Because it pisses him off."

Amery smiles at the idea of having a mutual friend. Had Monty stuck around, it's likely they would have encountered each other eventually.

"Thirteen," she repeats, stunned. "That's young. You're some kind of prodigy, Green." His last name seems fitting, seeing as Monty is at home among the plants. He smiles subtly at the nickname.

"Clarke's right, you know," Amery says, and Monty freezes with one hand on the new wristband he's trying not to fry. After a beat of silence, she continues. "All this jazz?" She taps Monty's temple. "It's important. It's valuable. This camp needs you."

"I'm just lucky I have a partner in crime," Monty grins, his eyes lingering on Amery's for a long moment. "Or, uh, in engineering. Jasper likes to call himself my partner in crime." His voice becomes strained, and Amery is about to comfort him when the hatch is thrown open, letting in light from downstairs, followed by a lanky girl with dark hair. Octavia.

Amery grabs Monty's arm and pulls him back into the shadows, grinning mischievously, because the buzzing energy radiating from Bellamy's sister says she's about to do something wild. A guy pops through the hatch and disappears only a moment later, being replaced by one of Bellamy's friends. Atom, Amery thinks.

"Nobody's bitch, huh?" Octavia mutters. "Maybe one of these days you'll realize you can't control me." She throws her arms out to the sides, gesturing around her as if to claim the whole world as her own domain. Amery wouldn't put it past her.

"You know, that guy you were with?" Atom drawls, seemingly unaffected by Octavia's outburst. "Did you know he was in for murder?" The girl is silent, and Atom gives a tight-lipped, almost rueful smile, knowing he's won. "You want to know something funny? I'm actually protecting him from you."

He drops down the ladder, and Octavia darts to the hatch right as he slams it closed, the sound of a lock echoing through the room.

"Hey, hey, hey, hey!" Octavia shouts, banging on the metal angrily. "What are you doing?"

Octavia has a babysitter. How nice, Amery thinks. Poor dude.

"Consider yourself controlled," Atom calls up, and Amery hides a grin behind her palm.

"Is this all you got?" Octavia screams. "They locked me under the floor for sixteen years just for being born! This is nothing!" She's met only with silence, and her shoulders sink in defeat as she stares at the closed hatch in shock.

Monty takes his opening, scooting back into the light of the lantern. He clears his throat, drawing Octavia's attention.

"You want to keep it down? I'm trying to concentrate," he says casually, holding up a wristband. Amery has to stifle her giggles as Octavia's head flies up, looking around for the owner of the unexpected voice. Her posture relaxes when she sees Monty and Amery, and she flops down next to them, scanning the mess of electrical equipment.

"You're trying to contact the Ark," she states, voice dry and unconcerned.

"Not very effectively," Amery sighs, rubbing an eye with the palm of her heel. Monty holds up his most recently fried wristband as proof.

To Amery's surprise, Octavia holds her wrist out expectantly. The shorter girl raises an eyebrow, but doesn't question it. Slowly, almost hesitant, Monty takes her wrist and starts prying at the metal bracelet.

"So, Atom," Amery prompts lightly, nudging Octavia with a shoulder. "Your assigned caretaker?"

"Unfortunately." Monty snorts, and Octavia leans back into the wall. The idea of Bellamy's posse of muscular delinquents running around camp and trying to restrain the younger Blake is hilarious. She's a force to be reckoned with, and Amery does not plan to be on the receiving end of her wrath.

A moment passes in silence before Octavia says softly, "I'm sorry about Jasper."

Amery stills, hoping that Monty doesn't sink back into his own thoughts at the mention of his lost friend. Instead, to her surprise, he starts to talk.

"He may not be my real brother," he says softly, gaze fixed on the wristband, "but he's always been there. Every memory I have, there's Jasper." He pauses, shifting his gaze to meet Amery's eyes. "I should be out there."

"Monty–" Amery starts, but Octavia jumps in with an almost teasing tone.

"You're not gonna cry, are you?"

Amery wants to tell her to shut her mouth. But maybe this lightheartedness, this banter, is exactly what Monty needs, because he says it instead.

"Shut up." But he cracks a smile, a real smile, and Amery is almost in awe. Octavia giggles. "You sure about this? Your brother won't approve of you helping us contact the Ark."

"He's not my keeper," Octavia protests, a spark of youthful rebellion in her dark eyes.

"He might send your babysitter after you," Amery warns, and the trio cracks up.

"Let's just do this," Octavia insists. "Let's do it." She straightens her spine, bracing for impact, and her eyes widen only slightly when Monty sighs and holds up a crowbar.

He slips it between the wristband and Octavia's skin, twisting until the band snaps. Octavia grunts and rubs her wrist."Son of a..."

"Sorry," Monty says absently, focused on the wristband. Amery holds her breath as it flickers out in the lantern light. "Dead. Damn it.

"Ugh," Amery groans, throwing her head back in exasperation.

"If we can't even take it off, how do you expect to turn it into a radio?" Octavia asks. Amery hates that she has a point. A loud clang startles the trio and draws their attention to the hatch. Atom's head peeks through the floor, shooting Octavia a bored look before he climbs back down.

The girl looks at Monty, almost asking for permission. Can't be controlled, huh?

Amery can't help but wonder if Octavia is so used to being told what to do that she almost isn't sure how to react in the absence of an authority figure. It's likely she could go off the deep end very quickly because of the sudden lack of restraint.

"Go on," Monty says. "I'll be fine. I've got company." He smiles lightly at Amery, who can't help but return it. Octavia ruffles Monty's hair playfully before walking over to the hatch.

She's just about to climb down when she turns and calls, "Hey, Monty?" The boy looks at her in question. "Jasper would understand why you stayed."

For a moment, Amery thinks Monty isn't going to say anything. But then he asks, "How is someone raised beneath the floor not a total basket case?"

"Who says I'm not?" Octavia scoffs, grinning. Then she's gone.

Amery chuckles. Octavia is a lot of things that she isn't quite sure how to describe.

"She's right, you know," Amery says, making sure Monty's eyes meet her. "He'd get it."

"I know," Monty murmurs, sinking back into his work quietly. For a while, they fall back into their rhythm, handing each other tools and broken wristbands without even having to speak. It's comfortable, not awkward as a silence between people who met a day ago should be. Amery resolves not to be the one to break it.

Monty does.

"There were skeletons," he says into the silence.

"What?"

"In the grass. I tripped. There were bones, Amery. And they didn't even... they didn't even look human."

Amery gulps, wondering what these "Grounders" actually are. They're primitive, using spears and skulls as intimidation tactics, but how much of a threat are they really facing?

Tears are pooling in Monty's eyes, and Amery scoots closer to him on the floor.

"They'll find him," she insists, and he nods.

"It's just... this was supposed to be everything," he admits, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palm. "I mean, look at this place. There's... it's green everywhere, it's like heaven, right? And then we have assassins coming from the trees and my best friend is out there somewhere, dying, and I should be out there and– and I'm just... stuck here in the dark, just like back on the Ark."

Amery stills for a moment, and then pulls her leaf out of her pocket and offers it to Monty with a small smile.

"Didn't have these on the Ark."

Monty chuckles dryly, spinning the leaf around in his fingers. His hand goes to his pocket, and his face falls.

"I lost it," he mutters.

"You keep mine. I'm probably allergic anyway," she jokes, and Monty smiles wryly.

"Hey, wait," Monty says suddenly, hand going back into his pocket. "I might have something better." He pulls out a few crushed, purple flowers. The smell wraps Amery in comfort. Monty holds one flower out to Amery, miraculously in tact, and she grins.

"It's beautiful," she whispers, grinning at Monty as she admires the blossom in her hands. "What is it?"

"Poison sumac."

"What?" Amery squeaks, dropping the flower into her lap. Monty laughs, and the sound warms her heart.

"It's not poisonous," Monty grins. He pops one right into his mouth. "They're actually calming."

Hesitantly, Amery presses the petal into her mouth, grinning as she savors the sweet, thick taste.

"Maybe we can just live off of these," she suggests, only half-joking.

"But there's so many other plants out there!" Monty protests, and Amery grins at how serious he seems about it. She surveys the boy next to her, wondering where he– or the Council– went wrong. He's sweet and innocent, caring about plants and the earth with the respect and admiration Amery wishes someone could give her.

"Can I ask," she says cautiously, accepting another flower from Monty, "what they arrested you for?"

"We, uh, well," Monty says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, "my family owns the Ark's pharmaceuticals. And me and... me and Jas... may have snagged a few of the, uh, more potent ones."

Amery gasps, her hand dropping into her lap as she gapes at Monty with a grin.

"Oh my god!" she cries, slapping him lightly with the back of her hand. "Green, you're totally a stoner! You absolute heathen."

Monty chuckles, looking down. "We kind of were. I used to ask Jas if he wore the goggles just to hide the bloodshot in his eyes."

We. Amery's face falls, and she places a hand on Monty's shoulder in what she hopes is a reassuring gesture.

"We'll find him," she whispers, slipping a poison sumac flower into her own pocket. "And we'll have something for him when he gets back."

Monty looks at her, questioning in his deep, dark eyes. Amery just offers him a goofy smile in response. "Can poison sumac get you stoned?"

✧✧✧

a/n:

hehe. i hate when monty's sad but they're so cute

i think cash is so fun to write. he's so goofy. also it's problematic cause i ship him with literally EVERYONE so please give me your thoughts

coming soon: jasper returns !! pain !!

[ word count | 6.6k ]