Thirteen stumbled sideways when a weight pressed against him. He crashed to the ground. Another figure dropped beside him, writhing and groaning in pain. Through his tunneling vision, he spied Three's light brown hair splattered over his face. The boy's mousy frame curled in, cradling a blossoming stain on his chest.

"Three, hang on." Thirteen gripped the boy's shoulders, shaking him awake. "Can you heal yourself? Activate your ability...?"

The only answer was a rumbling cough. Thirteen cursed, fumbling from the knot he made on his arm. Nothing would happen if Three's too out of it. His fingers picked on the bundle of black cloth which started dripping with his blood. It was that soaked. He couldn't care less, though. How in heaven's ass did he tie this so tightly?

Three's eyes fluttered, dragging him in and out of consciousness. "Hang on," Thirteen muttered to himself more than the injured. He retrieved Five's dagger which he stuck into his boots, and cut an incision on Three's wrist. If he had the latter's ability, both of them would be alright. Questions would be asked later. Answers would be provided later. He fished out Three's chip which had started pulsing blue. No, no, no. Not yet.

Thirteen pored through his own wrist and drew a bloody chip out. He shoved it inside his pocket before inserting the new one. Throwing a glance at the part of his sleeve now a sopping mess of blood and dirt by his feet, he shook his head. A new one. Using Five's dagger, he ripped another sleeve and secured his wound.

Okay. Should he wait a minute? Three didn't have thirty seconds. At least, Thirteen thought so. What to do...

He was vaguely aware of footsteps and ragged breathing surrounding him. Did they see him rip out Three's chip and transfer it into his own? What would they think about that? Moreover, why wasn't the ability kicking in? Come on...

His eyelids squeezed shut. He muttered meaningless prayers under his breath, rocking back and forth. Let the ability work. This was a Founding Chip for a reason. Come on. Give him the ability. He has to heal Three.

A light brush against his arm wrenched his eyes open. He looked down to find Three looking up at him. A small smile pulled his thin lips up. The boy seemed to be mouthing something, but the blood coating his lips and teeth and the fact that it was no louder than a gust of wind didn't help. Thirteen laid a hand on the boy's chest, attempting to block more blood from spilling out. Maybe he could close it up or something. No. He had to take the bullet out.

"Thirteen, let it go," a stern but soft voice said behind him. A hand clamped on his shoulder, reminding him they weren't alone. Somewhere to his left, Karrel and the others banged on the door of the warehouse, apparently locked in. On his periphery, he saw Seventeen bow theatrically in front of the metal doors, kicking what could only be the key across the sparse layer of grass. Where were they? His portable screen was there. The primary line of comms was there.

He looked down at his hands, his fingers dripping with blood—both his and someone else's. Beyond them, Three lay motionless. Not even a flutter of eyelid. Not a rise and fall of the chest. The boy was gone.

The ability didn't kick in. Why?

"Come on," Five was saying, urging Thirteen to get up. He stayed where he was, knees pressed against the compact soil in need of tilling. This was his fault. He thought he had his whole head in the Game, so much that he started neglecting the most basic of things in keeping his comrades safe. They believed in him. Yet, he repaid them with secrets and betrayal. With too many secrets to keep, he eventually paid the price for burying them this long.

"Thirteen, let's go," Five said again. "The counter's finished. Section H doesn't look like they'll be getting out of there for a long time. We can come back for them next time."

As answer, he raised his head towards her, noting her eyes. Shrouded by the sun's rays streaming behind her, they almost looked like two pieces of caged galaxies. And they looked at him as if he deserved whatever ounce of mercy Five had left to give.

"Leave me alone," Thirteen rasped, brushing Five's hand off him. As he did, his body teetered sideways. The last thing he remembered was his bruised cheek hitting the floor for the nth time.

When his eyes opened and the bland ceiling of his room greeted him, he thought he was back to where he started. Did he die and came back to life? Was this another strand of the Game? Why was he here?

Questions wouldn't help anyone, so he turned to the side. A jolt pain dug into his side, driving a loud whimper out his lips. Okay. Definitely not a new Game or a new life. This was the grim continuation of the one he thought he left.

That also meant having to face the consequence of his mistakes.

"Thirteen, stay down." Five's voice made him swivel his numb neck to the left. The girl sat on the floor, her hair rumpled, jagged, and snipped close to the roots. What...why was she here? "How are you feeling?"

He turned away from her and gripped the edges of his blanket off. He was still in his bloodied clothes, thankfully, but his ruined jacket was off, leaving him only in his grimy undershirt. Whenever he moved his fingers, a sharp sting stabbed his hands. Did he hit a nerve or...? The chips moving in and out of his flesh—yeah, he certainly did.

"Like crap," he muttered, his throat dry and scratchy. No use drinking it down, and he'd rather not. A little more suffering was overdue after he survived and others didn't despite his assurance. "What are you doing here?"

If she was offended by his tone and overall ungratefulness, it didn't leak to her voice. "Someone has to make sure you don't die," she said. "You lost a lot of blood, broke at least two ribs, and got banged up pretty bad. The next few days will be hell."

"I'd prefer the purgatory, honestly. At least I have a chance there," Thirteen answered. He glanced at Five to see if she found it funny. Her face couldn't have strayed far from a smile. Maybe she didn't get it. Or he needed to work on his humor as Karrel on her insults.

"Take this seriously, Thirteen," Five said, crossing her arms over her chest. Her own black jacket looked pristine and freshly-washed. Did she do the laundry around here? "You could have died there."

"And so could you," Thirteen retorted. Lying on a bed while trying to argue and be the firmer person was harder than he imagined. Then again, he never calculated he'd be in this exact situation. "You shouldn't have brought the entire section with you."

"They insisted on coming," Five replied, cocking an eyebrow. Was his reaction to being saved that surprising for her? What did she expect, that he'd start bawling in joy and praise them for their undying loyalty? "They were that worried about you."

Thirteen made a face. "Last I checked, they're too busy talking about me behind my back, building oppositions to check on me," he said. "I remember some of them screaming into my face and telling me to get lost."

A lie. He did get screamed at, but it wasn't to get lost. It was...yeah, to keep less secrets and be transparent. But if Karrel hadn't gotten a secret from him, he would risk her getting it from anyone from this section. Information was the only currency he couldn't entrust to others, because if he, himself, couldn't be trusted, then how could anyone?

"I can't speak for them at that moment, but when Karrel called us through the comms, we were all scared. For you," Five said. "Whether you like it or not, you are a part of Section M. And I think I told you before—I save who I can."

To be a recipient of a principle he once mocked—there was no greater shame than that. "You should have left me there," he said, flicking his gaze towards the blank ceiling. The light from the rods lining the corners stung his eyes. Maybe it was heaven's wrath, slowly torching him. "Karrel would have killed me while the counter finished. Four people might have lived instead of one."

"We still have a chance with you around," Five said. "You're the only one who got us this far with nothing but your head. Even if we tried, we wouldn't have faced Karrel efficiently until this point. I don't have her brains, but you do. Maybe something even greater. Having that chance instead of none is better. The others knew that. That's why they went."

"Would they like to know the reason why Karrel was able to get me?" Thirteen prodded. "It's because I didn't shut the sewer passages off."

Five cocked an eyebrow. Anger was a far-off expression on her face. She was just processing. "The one where you killed the spies?" she said. "Why didn't you block it?"

He didn't like this part—just him spewing secret after secret until he was pounded empty. But he had to, if he wanted to preserve his dignity and, well...his section's trust and loyalty. There was still the Game to be won. "I need it to get in and out of the fortress without relying on others to get across the trench," he said. "Because I...was doing something else while the counters went on."

It all came pouring in. He admitted to organizing the sleeper unit, intercepting the remaining sections on their way to vanish or to defect to Section H. "I told them the same thing—that they wouldn't have to die while they do what I ordered them—but only Slate was alive," he said. "What kind of leader am I?"

He wasn't one. Far from it. He only took on the role because he had to protect himself. But what else was he supposed to do when he had the intellect for it, just not the practical application? Then again, even if he had some kind of ability, he wouldn't be able to beat Karrel. As he was, ability or no ability, Karrel was just an enemy he couldn't go head to head with.

"Why would you gather the sleeper unit?" Five ventured.

He shrugged, rumpling the sheets under him. It could be nice—sleeping on his own bed for once. Maybe he ought to do this more often. The command room could wait. "To preserve the element of surprise when Karrel least expected it," he said. "It worked well in the previous counter, right? We managed to get Ikerne and Caden out of the way. Remember—I go down the path where I can save the most people."

Five stuck a lip out. "That's fine, I guess," she said. "Just...don't hold back those secrets from us again, alright? You're not supposed to carry all that burden alone."

Thirteen bobbed his head, his hair snagging against the soft fabric of his pillow. His entire body ached, as if he was roasting on an open-pit fire. "I'll remember that," he said. "Will you stay here?"

She smirked at him. "You're awake, so you don't need me anymore." She stood up and tapped her ear. "If you need me, I'm just one call away."

She jerked her chin towards the empty desk beside the bed. From his vantage point, he caught sight of a familiar black bud resting on the table. Next to it was the faint sliver of his portable screen. She...

Five winked at him as she retreated towards the door. "Rest up, Thirteen," she said. "We'll wait for your orders."

Before he could refute that or even tell Five to go back because he had withdrawn a mountain of other secrets, she shut the door behind her, vanishing into the cramped corridor beyond his room. Her footsteps receded down the hallway, leaving Thirteen stewing in his guilt and shame. Lying by omission was still a lie.

Five got something right about him. He wasn't supposed to carry all these secrets on his own. But he didn't tell her he agreed with the sentiment. He would never agree to that, even if he had to on his deathbed. There were secrets to give out, and there were secrets to keep. Thirteen just had to figure out which were which. For his sake and for theirs.