The 99

Chapter Sixteen: Bellamy

He had lied.

Bellamy's shoulder wasn't fine. Grabbing Clarke, he'd felt the skin that had started to knit back together tear open again. He didn't have to check it to know it was bleeding, but the pain wasn't as disabling as it had been, so he'd endure it.

"You saved my life today," Clarke's words echoed in his head and try as he might, Bellamy couldn't snuff out the glimmer of pride it invoked. But it didn't last long. So he'd saved someone's life; that did nothing to compensate for the one he took.

Miraculously, no guards had come charging down the corridors yet and though a small relief, Bellamy wasn't interested in testing it by sticking around. Clarke followed close behind as they slunk down the corridor, treading lightly and ducking their heads when someone passed. A few curious stares lingered on them which made Bellamy's skin crawl inside his suit. They were too obvious and far too exposed.

"Do you know where we're going?" Bellamy asked Clarke in a low whisper. He'd been in Mecha before, but not often and he was finding it hard to focus over the weight of the suit and his own throbbing arm. He was disoriented and tired. Hunger gnawed at him but the thought of eating another protein packet make him cringe. At the very least, he craved a safe piece of floor to lie down on, where he didn't need to worry about guards stepping over him.

Clarke eyed him warily and he didn't miss the glance she threw at his shoulder. "Repairs, I think."

"You think?"

She just grimaced, but kept walking, down the main corridor that branched off into dozens of directions.

"Wait," she said, holding up a hand as they came to a bend. Around it lay an open area, almost like a commons room if not for the small counter a few people were lined in front of. Bellamy recognized it vaguely.

"The Exchange," Clarke informed him.

Bellamy smirked, casting her a sideways glance. "I think you mean the Black Market."

She looked up at him. "If it were one, don't you think the Council would have picked that up by now?"

"Contrary to what you may believe, not even the Council can follow everyone all the time. Or is the fact that we're still alive not proof enough for you?"

Clarke gave a subtle shake of her head, but didn't contradict him. "I just pointed it out because I think we're getting close."

Bellamy glowered at her, irritability bleeding into his tone. "Again with the think. Is there anything that you actually know?"

She didn't flinch under the heat of his stare and replied indignantly, "I know staying in this corridor dressed as spacewalkers is liable to get us both caught. But I think we're getting close to Repairs." With that, she started around the bend.

Bellamy's hand shot out and he clamped it around her wrist, dragging her back next to him. "What are you doing?" he hissed quietly. "You can't just walk out in front of all those people."

Clarke shook off his hand and spoke evenly, looking up at him with those blue eyes. "If we don't then we're both dead anyway."

Bellamy looked back at the small row of people, holding a variety of items in their hands to trade off. "And how do you suggest we get over there without getting caught?" he asked, raising his eyebrows expectantly.

Clarke faced the room. "I suggest we walk quickly."

She led the way, lowering her head as she took a few cautious steps forward, and Bellamy watched for a moment as she walked ahead of him. A meter. Two. He glanced back at the people lined up.