No, she's not dead, and no, the story isn't over. But could you imagine if I just decided to just change the status to complete and end it at that last chapter without even an author's note? God, that would be cruel. And kind of hilarious. But mostly cruel.

Consciousness came slowly. It started with pain; there wasn't an inch of Caitie's body that didn't hurt from her toes to her head, though she wasn't in so much agony anymore—just heavy, sore, and tired. If she had to describe it, she would say it was like being trampled by a single Northman, instead of an entire army.

After the pain, came the smell of smoke and snow and rot—her window must have been open. After that, the memories of the night before came back in a rush, propelling her into full consciousness. Caitie needed to get up, close her window before the smell made her vomit, find her friends, and figure out what was happening.

She opened her eyes and groaned at the light streaming in through the window of her quarters. Her head screamed in pain as she looked down at the rest of her body. Someone—Sam, if she had to hazard a guess—had bandaged her ankle and her torso, making it almost impossible to move. Caitie had a distinct feeling if she even tried, agonizing would be the lucky option.

Well, shit. Getting up wasn't a possibility.

"You're finally up," a wry voice said.

As her eyes adjusted to the light, she looked around for the source. It was Edd—he sat in a chair right next to her bed, peering down at her with an eyebrow raised.

"You could try to sound more relieved," she replied, though her voice sounded hoarse. "I did nearly die."

"Hmph. You barely scratched yourself."

"My ribs would have to disagree." Her leather armor seemed to have taken the brunt of the sword's impact—she didn't feel as if she'd been sliced open, anyhow. Satisfied that she wouldn't die, Caitie put it out of her mind for the time being. She could handle a little pain. "What's happened?" she asked.

"We beat them back—for now."

"How long have I been out?"

"'Few hours."

She looked around her room. "Where are the others?"

"Sam's with Gilly. He'll be here soon. Jon… it's a long story. I'll let Sam tell it."

That didn't sound good. But Caitie had a more pressing matter at hand, first. "Where's Grenn?"

Edd's face fell into a sorrowful expression. And she knew.

"He's dead, isn't he?" she asked in a voice so small it was almost inaudible.

He nodded slowly.

Caitie couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't think. She kept repeating, he's dead in her mind, over and over, but it didn't register. Because how could he be alive less than a day earlier, smiling and laughing, and then suddenly just… gone?

In the blink of an eye.

He was going to appear in the doorway any moment now, with that grin of his, and kiss her breathlessly. She knew he was; she could feel it.

"He held the gate," Edd said, breaking the silence. "Killed a giant."

As if that mattered to her.

"Ah, don't cry."

Caitie touched a finger to her cheek. Sure enough, tears were streaming down her face—she just hadn't felt it. She didn't feel anything.

"Could I have a moment alone?" she asked weakly.

Edd furrowed his brows, debating something, but in the end, agreed. As he stood, she saw movement out of the corner of her eye—Ghost. Caitie hadn't realized he was in the room—he'd been so quiet. The direwolf jumped up on her bed just as Edd exited.

Grenn was dead, she thought. He would never enter a room again. He would never smile at her again. He would never love her again.

Because he was dead.

It may not have felt real, but that didn't stop the tears.

Caitie threw her arms around Ghost's neck and sobbed into his fur—for how long, she didn't know. She barely felt the pain in her body as her chest heaved.

Caitie had thought losing Owen and Cerys to be unbearable, but this was worse—so much worse. With her brothers, there was an element of removal. The pain came from the thought of never seeing them again—the thought of them gone from the world. But she hadn't felt Owen and Cerys's absence because they had been absent for two years already.

Grenn had laid in this bed with her less than a day ago. He had touched her less than a day ago. He had loved her and she had loved him less than a day ago, and now he was gone.

Ghost nuzzled her in response to her sobs, howling forlornly as if he could feel her pain as acutely as she did. He didn't seem to mind that she'd left her snot all over his white coat.

"I want him back," she whispered once she regained the ability to speak. "I want him back."

"I know you do, Kitty."

Relief coupled with the sorrow when she looked up to the doorway. "Sam." And then she was sobbing again.

He sat down on the floor beside her bed and took her hand. "Oh, Caitie, I'm so sorry."

"It's n-n-not supposed to be like this." She should have died—and she would have had she gone into the tunnel with Grenn. It was why he hadn't taken her along. He wanted her to live, but he hadn't given a thought of whether she would want to, without him.

He had left her behind.

"How could he leave me?"

"He didn't want to. He loved you."

"You don't understand!" she cried, sobbing into her hands. "He left me—he left me—"

She couldn't seem to say anything else besides those three words.

"Shh," Sam soothed. He wrapped his arms around her, careful not to disturb her wounds.

She cried—cried until eyes wouldn't open from the weight of the tears, clutching Sam's arm as he held her.

Finally, finally, they gradually slowed into little chokes.

"Wh-where's Jon?" she said when her breath had returned.

Sam went quiet. "He's… gone north to meet with Mance Rayder."

He went to meet with the man who had ordered their friends' deaths, who had sent a giant to kill Grenn. What was Jon thinking? "Why?"

"He believes that if he can kill Mance, the Wildling army will scatter."

Caitie's eyes opened wide, Sam's words giving her a burst of energy. Mance Rayder's death might be something to celebrate, but it wasn't worth Jon's life. "But they'll kill him!"

"I know. I told him as much. But there's no better plan."

First Grenn, and now Jon. They wanted so badly to play the hero, show their bravery, and never give a thought to the people they'd leave behind. "I'm going after him."

"Gods be good, no."

"I have to—I can't lose him, too. I can't!" She started to lift herself up from the bed, but Ghost refused to move, keeping her trapped.

"Caitriona, stop it, please."

She froze, the only noise left being her sniffles. Then, "Don't make me leave someone else."

"I'm sorry. I have to." Sam sighed and squeezed her hand. "Please sleep. You're going to need your strength."

Caitie's stomach dropped. Sam's tone had struck a chord with her—it was too ominous for her liking. "What does that mean?"

"Just rest, Kitty. Jon… I'm sure he'll be okay."

"No." She shook her head. "Tell me what you meant—why will I need my strength?"

Sam glanced all around the room before he spoke again. "They… they know."

Those words struck fear into her heart like nothing else could.

"How?"

Sam grimaced. "We took you to the infirmary after you went unconscious. Ser Alliser was there, being treated for his wounds. Maester Aemon tried to set your ribs in his private quarters, but…" He swallowed. "Slynt had joined us in the infirmary while Maester Aemon was trying to treat you. I don't know how or why he suspected, but he convinced Ser Alliser that you were hiding something."

Her arms went to hug her chest—she felt violated. "They saw me?"

"No, no," Sam assured her. "They only saw the binding."

Caitie took a shaky breath. Only her underclothes—the anxious knot in her stomach unfurled, just a bit. "And… how bad is it?"

"We can talk about it later. Right now, rest."

"Sam, tell me, please."

He sighed in defeat. "It's not good. It's why Jon had Ghost stand guard while you slept. It's why Edd hasn't left your bedside. Some of the brothers…" he shut his eyes tightly, almost like he was in pain. "They think you should be punished in a way that—that benefits them."

Caitie was going to be sick. "And the others?"

"Ser Alliser's allies. They want you… publicly executed. But don't worry," he added. "Maester Aemon has promised to make them see sense."

"What?"

"He… well, I should let him explain. But he's on your side, Caitie. And there are others, too. You fought at the Battle at the Fist; you survived as a prisoner of the mutineers—and escaped. You saved lives last night. There are brothers here who look at you as a hero."

Caitie laughed bitterly. "I'll believe it when I see it."

Sam sighed, but he didn't argue with her. It made her panic further.

This was the end of the line. She had used up all her luck.

"Do they know who I am?"

"No. All they know is that you're a girl." He paused, twiddling his thumbs. "There's going to be a trial. I don't know when—I suppose once Ser Alliser has healed and we've said goodbye to our—"

"Grenn," Caitie murmured, cutting him off. "Where—where is his—" she gulped, "his body. I want to see it. I want to say—" A sob escaped. "I want to say goodbye."

Sam kept his voice soothing. "I'm not sure it's a good idea for you to leave your quarters right now. Ser Alliser will—"

"Fuck Ser Alliser."

He nodded slowly. "Okay… let me speak to Maester Aemon. I'm sure he'll be able to help you."

"Please—I want to see him."

"You will, I promise. But for now, rest. You broke three ribs—it's lucky you didn't puncture a lung."

Caitie wanted to argue. She wanted to get up and find Grenn. She wanted to go after Jon. But her ribs ached, and her eyes drooped. She didn't have any energy left.

"Would you like me to get Gilly and the baby?"

Caitie tried to nod, but her head felt weighed down and heavy. "Yes, please."

Sam forced a smile, kissed her forehead, and departed, leaving her and Ghost alone. As he stared at her with his big red eyes, she realized he'd never see Jon again. She would never see Jon again. And she would never see Grenn.

She hated Mance Rayder. She hated Ser Alliser. She hated the lords of Westeros who refused to come to their aid.

She couldn't do this—not again.

Caitie screamed, and sobbed, and cursed, and nothing—not even three broken ribs—could stop her.

Somehow, she had fallen back to sleep.

And Caitie would have stayed that way, had a horn blowing not woken her. It was easier to sleep—she didn't have to think so hard if she was sleeping.

When the horn didn't blow again, hope bloomed before she remembered.

"You're awake!" a feminine voice exclaimed.

She turned to look at Gilly, who was sitting in a chair that had not been there before. Little Sam was in her arms, sleeping soundly.

And, because evidently, she possessed no other ability, Caitie cried again.

Gilly stood from her chair and came to sit on Caitie's bed. "I'm glad you're okay. When Sam told me you were hurt…"

"I'm—" but she couldn't say she was okay because she wasn't.

"He… he said you lost someone."

Caitie nodded, though she still half-expected Grenn to walk through the door at any moment. Her eyes moved down to the scars on her wrists. Before, they were something she and Grenn shared. Now, she wanted to erase them from her skin before they became a reminder of what she'd lost.

She wanted them gone. She wanted them gone.

"I'm sorry, Caitie," said Gilly, taking one of her hands.

Caitie sniffled, trying to focus on her friend. "I'm just glad you and the baby are okay. No one found you?"

Gilly blinked. "Oh. Didn't Sam tell you?"

Caitie furrowed her brows and shook her head.

"We hid in the larder, but a crow—I mean, a black brother—found us. Janos Slynt, Sam said. He hid with us until the battle ended."

Caitie went still as stone.

"He was terrified," Gilly went on. "I tried to calm him, but he just sat there, shaking, until Sam found us. He ran away as soon as he heard it was over."

Caitie's hands balled into fists. Grenn had fought to his last breath—he'd saved all their lives—and he had died. Janos Slynt was alive because he'd hid in the pantry like a sniveling little coward.

If she weren't in so much pain, her dagger would be in his throat by now.

"Oh, I almost forgot," continued Gilly, oblivious to Caitie's fury. "A king came to help the Night's Watch—"

"What? Which king?"

"Stannis Bar-ath—"

"Baratheon," Caitie finished.

"Yeah. He took his army north to capture Mance Rayder."

So many questions went through Caitie's mind in so little time, she didn't know where to start. She didn't know much about Stannis Baratheon beyond what everyone knew. She knew that his elder brother had denied him his rightful seat of Storm's End in favor of their younger brother and given him the island of Dragonstone instead. She knew he was supposed to be strict, stubborn, and unyielding.

And she knew Ned Stark had died because he believed Stannis was the rightful king.

But though she was grateful, she was also confused. Why in Seven Hells would the king come to the aid of the Night's Watch? The last anyone had heard, his army was in turmoil after an unsuccessful attempt to take King's Landing. How did he even know about the Wildling attack?

Caitie started with the easiest question. "Do you know why he came?"

"No," Gilly said. "Sam tried to explain all the history, but he's a terrible teacher. I finally told him to shut up and leave me alone."

Caitie chuckled weakly. "He doesn't have much patience, does he?"

Gilly smiled, glad Caitie had expressed something other than tears. "Would you like me to find him for you?"

"Yes."

"Could you take Little Sam for me?"

Caitie nodded as Gilly placed the baby in her arms—though he wasn't a baby anymore. He was already a year old. He stayed fast asleep as Caitie shifted into a more comfortable position.

She wished she could smile at him, just be happy that he and Gilly were alive, but she couldn't. She didn't think she could ever be happy again.

The sounds of Ghost's snoring and feel of Little Sam resting on her chest were the only things which anchored Caitie to the world. If it weren't for them, she felt as though she would float away.

Maybe it would have been a good thing if she had. She didn't want to face what came next: raped or beheaded or both.

Why was it that Alliser Thorne and Janos Slynt had lived, and Grenn and Pyp had died? It wasn't fair.

Ghost's head perked up as the door handle turned, and Sam entered, Gilly close behind.

"I can't stay long," he said. "The funeral is in two days. Ser Alliser and Slynt have been busy attending to the king—yes, we'll get there in a moment," he said when Caitie opened her mouth. "As long as we stay in the back and don't draw attention to ourselves, I'm sure it'll be all right. Maester Aemon has allowed it, so he'll vouch for you should they give you trouble, which seems unlikely."

Caitie nodded slowly. "I can't see his body before?"

Sam grimaced and shook his head. "I'm sorry. I tried—I really did. But I couldn't ask Maester Aemon without raising his suspicions, and—"

"It's all right," she lied. It couldn't get further from all right—nothing would ever be all right. But Sam had tried, and she loved him for it. "What about the king? Why is he here?"

"I... don't know, exactly," Sam said. "He's not a very talkative man."

She paused, staring down at her hands, trying to gather the courage to ask. "And Jon?"

Sam smiled. "He's—"

"I'm here."

The three of them looked up into the doorway where Jon stood. His eyes didn't leave Caitie's.

Sam looked back and forth between the two of them. "We'll give you a moment," he said, standing.

Gilly came forward, and Caitie handed the baby back to her, missing the warmth of him as soon as he'd left.

Suddenly, she and Jon were alone.

"Sam said you went north to kill Mance," she said.

"Stannis rescued me." When Caitie didn't reply, Jon walked to the bed and sat down at the foot. "How do you feel?"

Caitie tried to snort, but it came out as more of a sniffle.

"Stupid question," Jon admitted.

"It's okay." Neither said anything for a while because neither seemed to know what to say.

"I'm sorry about Ygritte." It was the first thing that struck her.

"You're sorry?" he asked incredulously.

"Of course I am. Jon I—" she broke off into sobs again.

"Shh," he soothed, moving from the foot of the bed to the head so that he could put an arm around her.

It was the biggest comfort she could get right then.

"You loved him," he said when her sobs had quieted.

Caitie nodded. "And I know you loved her."

Jon closed his eyes. " I did—I do."

"Jon, I'm so, so sorry."

"You shouldn't be. I don't deserve it." He grimaced. "It's my fault—all of it."

"It is not," Caitie insisted. "None of it is your fault. You did everything you could. You saved Castle Black."

"You almost died—you were found out—"

"And I would do it again," she said, with steel in her voice. Then she sighed, deflating. "Slynt's suspected something for a while, now. It wasn't your fault."

"I told Grenn to hold the gate," he whispered, his voice almost raspy. "I sent him to his death." This was the apex of Jon's guilt. But Caitie knew he had no other choice—not without risking the tunnel, or the lives of Sam, Gilly, and everyone else at Castle Black.

Their job was to protect the Seven Kingdoms, and they had done so.

Caitie choked down a sob. "We were all in danger of dying. Grenn wanted to go." And he had refused to let her go with him. He had left her behind.

Jon shook his head. "I never meant for any of this to happen. I've never been sorrier for anything in my life."

Her heart broke all over again at the sorrow in his voice. It wasn't fair. Jon had done everything he could to convince their brothers to seal the tunnel. Ser Alliser had refused to listen to him, and in turn, gotten six men killed. By refusing to flood the tunnel, he may as well have thrust his sword into Grenn's chest. She didn't think it was possible to hate someone more than she hated him.

"Listen to me," she said. "You didn't do this. Ser Alliser did this. Mance Rayder did this. War did this."

"I know," Jon admitted. "But that doesn't make it any easier."

Caitie didn't argue with him. He was right: nothing would make it any easier. She rubbed her eyes, trying to keep them open. Despite her grief, Caitie still had questions. "Stannis Baratheon—Sam said you spoke to him."

Jon nodded. "He captured Mance. The threat is over."

"The threat is far from over," she replied gravely, thinking back to the Fist of the First Men—of the White Walker. They may have defeated the Wildling army, but Wildlings were nothing compared to the army of the dead.

One thing at a time, she thought. The White Walkers were a problem for later. "But what is the king doing here? What could he possibly want with us?"

Jon's chest fell as he sighed. "To take back Winterfell from the Boltons. He only came to the Wall because his red priestess told him to. I don't know how long he's staying—for a while, I'd say. I assume he'll want us to lend him men for it. He's not gonna like our answer."

When Caitie stared at him, even more confused than before, he shook his head. "There's time for that later. First, you need to heal. We have to burn the dead, rebuild the castle, begin training. There'll to be a choosing to replace the lord commander, and then we'll have to replenish our numbers…" he trailed off, lost in thought, obviously thinking of how to do all those things.

It struck Caitie that she had planned to go south to replenish those numbers with Grenn—their plans for after the battle—should they survive. What a ridiculously stupid thing to do—making plans for a future that would never come. She thought she might cry again, but she just yawned.

Jon seemed to realize where he was. "You should rest. Sam says you almost punctured—"

"A lung. He told me." Judging by the pain now radiating from her ribs now, she must have gotten close. "Jon? Would you... would you stay until I fall asleep?" She didn't think she could fall back to sleep without someone with her.

His eyes softened. "Aye," he said. "I'll stay as long as you want."

Caitie almost told him not to—if Thorne found out... well, she didn't want to think about what he would do. But she couldn't bring herself to tell him to go once she'd fallen asleep. She didn't want to wake up alone.

Caitie didn't know if it was because Jon seemed to sense this, or because he didn't want to be alone either, but when she awoke hours later, he was still there, next to her.

This chapter was basically just an info-dump—sorry about that. I promise the next one will… also be pretty info-dumpy. But there's a lot of information and shit we have to wade through before S5 starts.