The kiss nearly undoes him right then and there, an action he wouldn't have expected from this Clarke -- not even in his own messed up dreams. Even if they weren't living through the memory again, changing it somehow, Bellamy would have known something was off by that alone. But he can't stop and ask, can't do anything except get his mind back to the door, to what he has to do in the next few seconds. It shouldn't be difficult. It's just another person he has to put down in order to keep them alive, another life to add to his ever growing list.

He nods when she starts the count, his hand steady as it holds his (stolen) pistol out in front of him, finger on the trigger. The door takes a touch too long to swing open, and though Bellamy can see Emerson the second it's open more than a few inches, the guard is already stumbling back, reaching for his own gun.

Bellamy shoots before the door is open all the way, but the small gap leaves him with little room to aim; when the door opens he can see blood covering Emerson's shoulder, soaking his shirt down his left arm and dripping to the floor where Emerson is sprawled. It's the blood that distracts him, the blood and the half second it takes for the door to open enough to let him through.

Pain shoots through his entire body and he's not even sure where yet; Bellamy's only aware of pulling the trigger again and watching Emerson fall back, making sure the man doesn't move again before he allows himself to fall to his knees.