a/n I'm so excited to get a positive reaction to this story so far! Thanks so much to everyone who commented on the first two chapters and I hope you're still with me! Huge thanks to Stormkpr as well for betaing. Happy reading!

Making out whilst theorising about blood supplies is an interesting occupation, but it's kind of become Clarke's full-time job over the last couple of days.

Well – that and giggling. She wonders if she has become a naïve giggly fool for real, now, since she's spent so much time acting that way of late.

Today for example – right this second – she is giggling gleefully as Bellamy kisses a line down her neck and as far as her collarbone.

"Any luck with the ventilation shafts?" She ducks to whisper the question in his ear.

"None. All too high to get into without causing a scene. Did you get anything useful out of Maya?"

"These people have a crazy secret and effective healthcare routine. I'm sure they're using the blood for that. But no details."

"We need to figure this out faster." Bellamy bites out, now, as he grazes his teeth softly over her neck. It's such an odd juxtaposition it has her heart hiccupping in her chest. "While we're taking days to find out what's going on, they could be feeding us up for the slaughter."

"We're working as fast as we can. You know we can't just march in there and demand to see everyone's health records."

"But what if we broke in and saw everyone's health records?" He suggests.

She doesn't like that. It has the feel of some of his more reckless plans when they first landed. But on the other hand, she can understand his urgency.

"Bellamy -"

"What other choice do we have, Clarke? Hang around kissing until they start killing off our people? Try to break out of here? You know we'd never manage to take everyone with us, and we can't leave them."

"Breaking out could work if we could come back with reinforcements. Do you think Raven made it?"

He laughs a hollow laugh, covers it with a loud moan. Clarke hopes no one will catch that. "Come on, Clarke. You know as well as I do that there's no one out there to help us. My sister should have disappeared safely with Lincoln by now. Even if by some miracle Raven did make it, what's one woman going to do?"

"You don't think she made it anyway."

"No. Of course I don't." He says, sour. It's amazing how fluent they are at this new kind of whispered communication already, she thinks. It's almost as if they were made to spend their lives with their faces pressed close to each other's necks.

"OK. So we're breaking into the medical ward and looking for some records." She concludes. He's right – it really is the only choice.

She's sick and tired of the way only choices keep springing up to bite her, on Earth.

"Great. Let's go."

"Not now. Come on, we can't be reckless about this. We sneak out tonight when no one will be around. Make it look like we're looking for some privacy again. Maybe do that sexy rebel act of yours again over the door."

"Sexy rebel?" He asks, teasing. He actually pulls away from the kiss to look her in the eyes for that.

She flushes. This is something she can play for the cameras, isn't it? It's the truth, too, but Bellamy doesn't need to know that.

"You know how much I like it when you go all rebel. What's wrong with a little chaos and whatever the hell we want and all that."

He grins. "Flattered, Princess. I never realised you noticed me back then."

She snorts. "Please, Bellamy. Have you seen yourself? I noticed you the moment we met."

That should be a good set up for their little act of rebellion tonight, she hopes. It lays the groundwork for the idea she gets a thrill out of dating a rulebreaker.

It's also true, but that's another thing Bellamy doesn't need to know.

In fact, her list of things Bellamy doesn't need to know is getting longer by the hour.

…...

Bellamy is not looking forward to spending the rest of the day waiting for tonight's big mission, and pretending all is normal. He knows Clarke is right – it probably is more sensible to wait until a quieter time to go on their expedition. But he just wants to get on with this now. He hates feeling like he's failing at protecting his people. And nagging at the back of his mind is the idea that, if they figure out what's going on here and maybe find a way out, he might be able to go search for his sister and Lincoln.

He forces himself to be patient as best he can, as they arrive back at the dorm. At least he has acting out his relationship with Clarke to distract him. That always keeps him busy, keeps his mind safely away from other things. He supposes they'll spend the day together as a happy couple, before they make their move tonight. Should he invite her to spend some time cuddling while he reads and she draws, perhaps?

She beats him to it, as they walk over towards their bunks.

"I'm going to draw for a while this morning." She says, and he fears she sounds a little on the quiet side.

"OK. Sure. Shall I grab a book and we can sit together?"

"No, thank you. I was going to take some time to myself. I might go find somewhere else to sit quietly on my own."

"Oh. Right. Sure. OK." Why does he feel like he's done something wrong, here? Like he's upset her or he's in trouble, somehow?

He's probably not supposed to worry so much about getting the cold shoulder from his fake girlfriend.

He has to ask the question. "Is everything OK? Are – are we OK?"

She smiles, more brave than truly bright. "Yeah. We're great. I just need a little alone time."

"OK. Yeah. Let me know if there's anything I can do."

She smiles more genuinely this time. "You can stay here and let me go have my alone time. Maybe this morning is a good time for that chess lesson Wells offered you." She says pointedly.

He nods. She's probably right. But he doesn't like the idea of her wandering around a bunker alone when she seems a little sad, damn it. He feels this instinctive urge to protect her, even from her own low mood.

No. A good boyfriend would let her go.

"Of course. I'll go play chess with Wells. But you know you can tell me if anything's bothering you, right?"

She nods. She reaches up for a sound kiss. And then she grabs her sketchbook and strides straight out the door again.

He feels rather pathetic as he's left standing there, staring at her retreating back.

He's startled when Miller catches him with a friendly slap on the shoulder. Bellamy turns suddenly, sees his friend's concerned gaze. Was he really that obvious, staring after Clarke with his heart in his eyes? That's a good thing, he reminds himself. He's supposed to be obvious. This is supposed to be heady young love.

"What's got you looking so sour?" Miller asks, all careful cheeriness. "You got the girl. You should be celebrating."

He snorts. He can't help it. He didn't get the girl, and he can't tell Miller that.

Or maybe he can, actually.

"I didn't get the girl. You've met Clarke. No one will ever get her."

Miller frowns. "Fair point. I'm sorry – I shouldn't have talked about her like that."

He shrugs. "I don't think she'd care. I'm just saying it's not as simple as that. I still don't understand what she's thinking half the time. I'm worried about her – she says she wants some alone time."

"OK. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing. That's fine. I can cope without her for a couple of hours." Bellamy tries to laugh at himself and doesn't entirely succeed. "It's just – is that normal? We've only been together a few days and already she wants to get rid of me?"

Miller laughs, pulls him in for a rough half-hug. "You've got it bad, Bellamy. All she said was she wanted some alone time. I bet that's all she meant. We all need a quiet moment to ourselves sometimes. Let it go. If you'd done something wrong, she'd be the first to tell you about it."

Bellamy chuckles a little. That does sound like Clarke – or perhaps it sounds more like the real Clarke he knew before this Mount Weather model who giggles so much.

"Yeah. Thanks. Just – dating is hard."

Miller nods. "Your first real relationship?"

No. His first fake relationship.

"Yeah." He lies brightly.

"You'll get used to it. I just hope you have better luck than me and Bryan." He says, wistful but brave. "Come on – what's the plan for the morning?"

"I'm going to ask Wells to teach me chess."

There's a beat of silence. Miller simply stares at him, incredulous. And then he breaks out into a full and hearty laugh.

"Go for it, Bellamy. No offence, but I'm not staying to watch that. I'll go see if Monty has plans."

With that, he is gone, striding away across the dorm.

Bellamy finds Wells quickly. The dorm is only so big, after all. He wanders over towards him, trying to look casual and confident. Trying to look as if he is not at all nervous at the prospect of asking a favour from his new fake girlfriend's lifelong best friend.

Wells looks up and sees him, and breaks into a warm smile.

"Hey, Bellamy. You look different without Clarke clinging to your arm." He teases.

Bellamy snorts. "I feel different without her. It's amazing how quickly she's found this place in my life." That's the honest truth, even if they are not actually together.

Wells nods. "Clarke's like that. She has this way of worming inside your heart and then she's part of you forever."

Bellamy gulps. That didn't sound encouraging, actually. That sounded bad on a number of levels – an implication Wells himself is still in love with her, as well as a warning that Bellamy will never be able to go back to the way things used to be, after this.

Wells seems to realise what he's done. He gulps, frowns, tries again.

"I just meant – she's great, isn't she? Captivating. But I'm not trying to... interfere. She's really happy with you."

Really giggly with him, more like.

"Thanks, Wells." He tries cautiously.

"Any time. Come on, let's play some chess. I think I'm better at teaching people how to play chess than I am at talking about my feelings." Wells jokes.

"Pretty sure I'm terrible at both."

Wells snorts. "You don't need to talk about them. You're more one for showing them, aren't you?"

He nods cautiously. He supposes that might be true. But where does that leave him, in a relationship which is all ostentatious actions? If he's supposed to be putting on a display, but he has always been one for showing his feelings in truth?

"Don't worry about it, Bellamy. Really. Just sit down and let's get started."

Bellamy nods again and takes a seat. He's not sure what he did, to deserve this kind of loyalty and warm welcome and these overtures of friendship from Wells. Is it all because Wells is convinced he makes Clarke happy?

This guy is really going to hate him, when he finds out this relationship is all a lie.

…...

Clarke can already feel herself relaxing a little, as she wanders away from the dorm with her sketchbook under her arm. She's not completely relaxed, of course – far from it. She and her friends are trapped with smiling strangers who have blood channelled into their med bay from behind a locked door. That's not a relaxing though at all, is it? And tonight she and Bellamy will go make a raid on their medical records – there's another source of stress.

But she does feel a little better, as she finds herself alone, and as she takes some deep breaths.

She finds a small alcove to sit in – one she and Bellamy have made out in, probably. There is barely a corner in this place that they haven't kissed in, by now. And then she opens her sketchbook across her knees, genuinely grateful for this gift from President Wallace. She still doesn't like the man much, is still suspicious of his motives and his people, but this sketchbook is very handy to her right now.

She starts to draw – a depiction of the dropship, remembered as best she can. But this time isn't really about the quality of the artwork. It's about being alone to sort through her thoughts.

She's just not used to being with people, every minute of every hour of every day. She grew up as an only child, like almost every kid on the Ark, with parents who worked long hours in demanding jobs. She spent a year in solitary. And throughout her life, she has always used drawing alone as a kind of meditation, a chance to contemplate and find some semblance of peace.

That was harder at the dropship, of course. But even then, she could take a moment to go down to the river alone to wash, or sit in her tent with a rough piece of bark and one of those pencils Finn found.

It has been different, since they were brought here to Mount Weather. She's been in a crowded dorm, has felt the weight of cameras on her every move. And most of all she's had Bellamy at her side every single second. It's not that she minds his company – if she had to spend that much time with anyone, he's the person she would pick. But she's finding it all a little overwhelming. And his constant presence doesn't give her time to sort through her feelings about him and this act they are putting on between them. It's easy to get snowed under in how real it all feels.

Huh. She's not drawing the dropship, now. She's on a new page, and she seems to have started drawing Bellamy's face. At least that will look good for the surveillance cameras.

Maybe she ought to give it to him as a gift.

It's no surprise she's drawing him, probably. She's rather preoccupied with him at the moment for obvious reasons. And besides which, he's a good subject to draw. He's beautiful, but in a complex, fascinating sort of way, with all those freckles and curls and that scar on his lip. He's a challenge to her, in every possible way.

She thinks that's why she likes him so much, in fact.

They're doing well together. That's what she decides, as she tries to arrange her ideas. He's not actually attracted to her, of course, and that's fine. But they were becoming good friends even before they started this act, and she thinks their fake relationship has only cemented that further. She resolves that, if she comes out of this with her people safe and with Bellamy respecting her and valuing her friendship, she will not complain that he's not interested in a real relationship with her.

Obviously that's true. Obviously her people's safety and happiness is more important to her than her own silly crush. But she just needed a quiet moment with her sketchbook to think that through.

She stays in her alcove and keeps drawing for a couple of hours. And when at last she heads back to the dorm, her sketchbook tucked under her arm, she's feeling rather calmer. There is still worry and tension there, but she feels in control of it, more or less. She and Bellamy have a plan, and it's going to work.

She arrives back at the dorm. Jasper and Monty greet her with waves. Miller seems to be playing some game with Stirling. Wells and Bellamy don't see her right away – they are on the far side of the room, bent low over a chessboard.

She heads over there. She sees Wells notice her – he's sitting facing her, and he glances up from the board just long enough to clock her presence, to hide a small smile as he makes a point of refocussing on the game.

Good. He's conspiring with her to take Bellamy by surprise.

She manages to get right up behind him, so close she can almost smell the earthy scent which always clings to his hair. She hesitates a moment, wondering whether to try to give him a friendly fright, or whether to shower him in affection instead.

There is too much fear on Earth already. He does not need a jump scare in his own dorm – even a good-humoured or affectionate one. And if she was really falling in love with him, she would simply want to kiss him.

That's what she does. She warns him she's there, first.

"Hey, gorgeous."

And then she gets on with it. She flings her arms around him from behind, presses a handful of kisses to the crown of his head. Then he starts turning in her arms, straining up to meet her lips with his. It's a glorious mess of kisses and touches – as if they felt simply starved for affection during three whole hours apart.

She pulls back after a couple of minutes. She flips open her sketchbook, smiling softly.

"I've got a gift for you." She explains.

"You have?"

"Yeah. Here."

She shows him a sketch she just drew of him – the best of the small selection, she thinks. She's captured him laughing over the dinner table last night at something teasing she said about starch, she seems to remember. His nose isn't quite right, for the record. But she thinks she's done a half decent job of showing the lightness in the air and in his eyes when he laughs – even in the midst of enemy territory.

He seems to think that, too. Or at least, that's the message she takes away from the heated kiss which follows.

…...

Bellamy takes the lead a little more, as they prepare for their mission that evening. It feels strange to him that they have fallen into this dynamic for their fake relationship, when the real friendship which was starting to grow between them at the dropship was based on their respect for each other as equals – and when his very real attraction to Clarke first grew out of the thrill he would get whenever she tried to order him around.

All the same, it does make sense, he supposes. It helps them look more naïve, doesn't it? If he's just a strong and stupid young man who likes telling women what to do, and if Clarke is just a giggly girl.

He tries for his best cocky smirk as they prepare for bed.

"I want you sleeping in my bed tonight." He tells Clarke smoothly.

She flushes a little. "Yeah? You want that – even with everyone else in the room?"

He nods. "Yeah. Can't hurt to remind them you're mine. And I like the idea of holding you while we sleep."

He likes that idea more than he probably should, all things considered.

She doesn't argue. She giggles a little, nods eagerly, and follows him to his bed.

He tries not to make it too onerous for her, as they lie there in the darkness. Once the lights have gone off there's no point groping her, is there? It won't help sell their lie and it might make her uncomfortable.

They do whisper to each other for a while, though. The kind of senseless chatter he imagines a happy young couple might share – comments about how delicious dinner was, how pretty she looks in pink, how handsome she finds him when he smiles.

He wonders if that has a seed of truth. All the best lies do, right? So is it perhaps true that she doesn't find him unattractive? And maybe even that she does like to see him happy?

No. That way lies madness, he's pretty sure.

At last, it is time. Clarke murmurs to him that it is late and she thinks they ought to get going. He doesn't argue, because this is her plan, for all that he's making a show of taking the lead.

They head down the hallways in their nightclothes. That's deliberate – a ploy to make this look more like a spontaneous rush for some privacy. They move quickly, too, half-jogging with their hands clasped as if they are desperate to find somewhere to get busy.

They go to the medical ward itself first, where they explored last time. They make a great display of being disappointed to find it occupied by a couple of patients, retreating back around the door before anyone can wake up and catch them there.

"We can't use the beds." Clarke says, in a convincingly disappointed tone.

Bellamy reaches out to stroke her cheek. "I know. I'm sorry. We'll find something."

She nods, downcast, and looks about her.

"In here?" Bellamy suggests, pointing to the medical ward office as planned.

She nods more brightly this time. "Do you think it's open?"

"Who cares?" He asks, smirking. Trying to remember how to be the king of chaos, that arrogant young man he used to be at the dropship camp before Clarke started making her mark on his life. "I'll kick it down if I have to. I know you love it when we sneak around."

"It's hot." She agrees obediently, sheepishly.

"Then let's try the door."

He tries it. Yes – locked. That's no surprise. He could try picking it – Miller has shown him the basics – but he thinks that risks looking too clever if they are caught.

A stupid guy, living by his strength, would just break the door down.

He settles on a compromise. He kicks, hard, just below the handle. Just at the point where the lock must bite.

It works. It works perfectly. He splinters only a very small part of the doorframe, and then he and Clarke are inside.

"Wow. What is this place? It's incredible." He says, deliberately awed, taking in the stocked medicine cabinets, the many computers, the stacks of paper records.

"Can we look around? You know I always wanted to be a doctor." She offers, bright and earnest.

"Course you can." He says – an indulgent and slightly patronising boyfriend offering a treat. "But don't be too long. I want to get my hands on you."

It's a big room. Clarke starts with the paper records – he supposes that is a sensible choice, rather than waste time trying to hack the computers when that is not her specialist skill.

He looks around him, wondering what his next move should be.

"I'm going to go look for a couch or something we can use." He tells her.

She nods, still searching the desks before her.

He sets off wandering around the rest of the room. He heads behind a sort of wall of shelves, then further back into the office. Lots of things seem to be stored here – he tries to memorise as many of the labels as he can. Clarke might want some of this information.

He doesn't know quite what she's looking for. What would explain the mysterious blood supply lines? He's no doctor, and he hasn't a clue. He simply keeps searching shelves of medicine, notices a lot of boxes which seem to be labelled anticoagulants.

That's medicine which stops blood from clotting, isn't it? He figures that's probably relevant.

There is no couch back here. A couple more desk chairs sit before a couple more desks. More shelves rise high against the walls and around the desks.

Mount Weather really is the strangest overdressed junkyard.

"Clarke? Babe? I can't find any couches back here. There are some desk chairs we could use if you want to take a look." It's a hint to come check out those boxes of anticoagulants, and he hopes she understands it.

Yes. She's moving towards him, eager and clumsy. The very image of an overexcited girlfriend.

"Coming."

"You will be soon."

She snorts out a laugh. She picks her way around a few more shelving units, and then she's here, smiling at him brightly in the dimly-lit room.

He goes to meet her in a kiss. It's too tight, too urgent, as if she's found something she doesn't like.

"Anticoagulants on your left. Loads of them." He murmurs as he kisses her neck.

"I figured it out. It's right there in their medical records. Blood transfusions whenever anyone is exposed to radiation. These people can't handle the surface radiation at all. They've got a blood supply that can."

"From where?"

"From behind that door. A huge amount of blood. And there's some food going through that door according to the inventory. They've got people alive and captive." She surmises.

He shivers, hopes he can pass that off as a natural reaction to Clarke's lips. Are there even any cameras in this dark corner anyway? "And that's what they want us for?"

"I don't know. They're treating us different – for now at least. I think these people might be something to do with the reapers Lincoln mentioned."

"But how much longer will they treat us different?" He asks. That's the question which really matters.

He never gets an answer to it. At that very moment he hears voices echoing down the hallway outside – voices raised in anger, and approaching quickly.

"Guards." Clarke guesses at once.

"Yeah. Trust me?"

She nods right away.

"Get down on your knees."

She doesn't make him ask twice. She's there at once, kneeling before him, peering up at him with a look which tells him she knows exactly what's coming next. A look which tells him she forgives him for it, too.

He's so incredibly fortunate that he has this woman as his partner in crime. He really got lucky, he thinks, when they both found themselves on that dropship, and as a result he got Clarke to support him in everything he has faced on Earth.

He tugs his pyjama pants urgently out of the way. His cock is half-hard already, even from that little bit of kissing tangled with bad news. Something about Clarke has that effect on him, no matter what the circumstances.

He shoves his cock none-too-elegantly at her face.

She takes it into her mouth, wrapping her lips around the shaft, getting him deep down her throat right away. There is no time to hang around and warm him up, is there? They need to look like they are right in the middle of an assignation by the time the guards appear.

The first guard has reached the door, now. But it's a large room, and dark, so maybe they have a few moments.

Clarke doesn't seem flustered by the setting at all. He could swear this woman is unshakeable, sometimes – she's steady as a rock, no matter what.

No. That's unfair. He needs to remember she's only human, too.

She's giving him a pretty awesome blowjob, considering the circumstances. She's managing to get him pretty deep down her throat, and she's cradling his balls in a gentle hand, warming them and massaging them lightly with her fingers. It's incredible, actually.

He wishes he could just relax and enjoy it.

He needs to give her some positive feedback. That's what he'd do, if this were real. But he doesn't want to go groaning loudly when there are guards starting to search the room.

He tangles a hand in her hair, moans ever so softly in pleasure.

She responds in kind, quiet but communicative, using one hand on his butt to encourage him to thrust towards her mouth a little more. He matches her, angling deeper down her throat, really -

"What the hell do you kids think you're doing?" A guard asks, somewhere between furious and deeply flustered.

Bellamy makes a show of blinking his eyes open in shock. "Oh. Sorry, man. We were just – you know. There's no privacy in that dorm."

"Get yourself covered up." Another guard snaps, joining the scene.

Bellamy almost laughs. How is he supposed to get covered up when Clarke still has a face full of his cock? She hasn't pulled away yet, is making a great point of being frozen in surprise with her mouth around him.

He loosens his hold on her hair, starts stroking her head instead. And then he bends and makes a point of speaking gently to her.

"It's OK, baby. You don't need to be embarrassed. These guys aren't going to judge you."

She nods a little, still in place. Then she slides away, dragging her lips over the head of his cock with a great show of reluctance as she goes.

Bellamy reaches for the waistband of his pyjamas, pulls it up, tucks his erection into them. It sticks out, jutting comically before him, bouncing a little as he presses on with the next stage of the act.

He reaches an arm around Clarke and tries for a cocky tone. "I'm sorry guys. But you know how it is. There are fifty of us in that dorm and sometimes a couple just needs some privacy. And I'm afraid I'm not a very patient guy." He gives an arrogant laugh. "Aren't there times when you just need to? You know what I'm saying?"

They do know what he's saying. It's disgusting. The first guy on the scene – that flustered one – is smirking as if he and Bellamy are in on some great secret together.

The second is a little more professional. "We'll have to inform President Wallace and Mr Cage Wallace." He says, tone level.

"I get that. I know what it's like to feel like your boss is looking over your shoulder for every little thing. I used to be a guard, you know?"

Even the second one looks more friendly now. "Yeah?"

"I did. So – sorry for making your shift harder, I guess. Security seems pretty thorough around here."

"Yeah. Cameras everywhere. We caught you the moment you broke down the door." He says smugly.

Bellamy nods. That's information worth bearing in mind for another day. They are either going to have to be quicker, next time they go on a little mission like this, or else find a different way entirely.

"Well – good job, guys. I guess we'll go back to our dorm. Maybe if everyone's asleep we can finish what we started."

He walks from the room, Clarke still tucked into the shelter of his arm as they go. Tucked in as if she's fragile, yes – but squeezing his hand in reassurance, too. Telling him he played that perfectly.

a/n Thanks for reading!