Caitie sat at the edge of the north-facing side and stared at the forest beyond, trying to blink her tears away. On a different day, she might have looked out at the mountain ranges on the south-facing side—the ones where she had grown up. But she couldn't right then; it was too painful.

She missed home.

It was the constant ache that wouldn't seem to go away, no matter how much Caitie tried to think of something else. She missed her brothers, her keep, her dresses. She missed all the people who had watched her grow up, even if they hadn't had the same importance as Owen, Cerys, and Arthur: Roland and Edric Knott, Selwyn Harclay—the three of whom were friends with her elder brothers—Maester Harkon, even stupid old Septa Melarie, who spent most of their time together berating Caitie for talking back and telling her to sit correctly.

She missed her whole life, even as she knew it was gone.

And, if the reminder of that loss wasn't enough for one day, then there was also her fight with Jon. To think that only a little over two days ago, she'd stood in this very same spot with him, happy and at ease—or as much as she could be, given the situation. Now, Caitie was so angry that she wanted to scream or cry or punch something—or all three. But she was also terrified, because, however angry, she still wanted his friendship. Because Jon wasn't just her friend—he was the closest friend she'd ever had. They understood each other—or at least she thought they did—and she didn't want to lose it, even if he had made her angry.

It was confusing and frustrating, and Caitie hated it.

"What're you doing up here?" a voice said, breaking her train of thought. Caitie quickly rubbed her eyes—the last thing she needed was someone seeing her cry—and was about to snap at whoever it was to leave her alone until she turned to look at the visitor.

It was Grenn.

Caitie took a deep breath and replied, "Thinking."

"Up here?"

"It's the perfect place. There's nothing to distract you."

He scrunched his face up, thinking. "'Guess that's fair," he said.

As Grenn sat down next to her, Caitie took a second, even deeper breath, trying to steady all of the emotions coursing through her. Gods, it would just be hilarious if she started to cry in front of him, of all people.

"I can't believe you're not a ranger," he said, breaking the quiet which had fallen. "You're better than any of us, except maybe Jon."

Caitie felt her cheeks heat at the compliment, and also frustration at the mention of Jon, but she tried to maintain the appearance of calm. "I'm surprised you'd admit it," she joked.

"You know you're good."

"Well, that's true," she said with the ghost of a smile. "You'll be a good ranger, though."

"Yeah?"

Caitie's smile widened, and immediately answered, "Yes."

"I guess this means we won't have watch duty together anymore," he said.

She hadn't thought of that, but he was right. Now, Grenn would go on rangings, while she would stay behind to clean chamber pots. She tried not to look too disappointed. Though they only made small talk during their nights watching the Wall before lapsing into companionable silence, she would miss having him as her watch partner. "I suppose so."

"I'll miss it," he replied, as if he could read her thoughts. "You're not bad company."

Despite everything, she found herself smiling once again. "Neither are you. Especially considering you're willing to put up with me when I snap at you. Sorry about that, by the way."

"Ah, don't worry about it. I'm just impressed. For someone so small, you're right scary."

Caitie laughed, and Grenn grinned back at her. But then his expression changed to one of observance, and she looked away, trying to avoid eye contact.

"Y'know," he said, "never noticed it before, but you have dimples when you smile."

Caitie blinked. Is he flirting? She thought he might have been—she'd seen Cerys do it enough to know the signs—but she also knew it was impossible. To him, she was a boy, and Grenn wasn't the smartest of men. He could never have figured her little secret out. Anyway, if he were trying to flirt, commenting on her dimples would be a bad way of going about it. She hated them.

Then he bumped her shoulder with his own. "I always wanted dimples. You're one lucky bastard."

The comment made Caitie realize he was not, in fact, flirting. She couldn't decide whether she was relieved or not.

"Don't remind me," she said. "My younger brother used to call them my 'face holes.' He'd try to put his fingers in them when he was young, and then my older brother kept on with it because he knew I hated it."

Until she almost broke his finger, of course, but Grenn didn't need to know that.

"You have brothers?" he asked.

"Three of them. Two older and one younger."

Grenn snorted. "Four boys. Your mother must've loved that."

Oh, if only he knew.

But Caitie couldn't tell him, so she spat out the next thing that came to mind. "She died, actually; when I was six."

"Oh… sorry."

"It's okay. It was a long time ago."

Neither said anything more, looking down awkwardly for longer than Caitie would have liked. Finally, she decided she had to say something to diffuse the tension and asked, "What about you? Don't you have siblings?"

Grenn shrugged. "Nah, I was abandoned at a farmhouse before I can even remember. Couldn't have been more than three."

She stared down at the snow, now even more embarrassed. Gods, and Caitie had thought it awkward before. She shouldn't have asked; she should've just shut up—though admittedly, she had never been very good at that.

Thankfully, they were interrupted by the sound of boots on snow. Both of them looked over their shoulders at the newcomer—Sam.

"May I talk with him for a moment?" he asked Grenn. Caitie smiled reassuringly at him—or at least as reassuringly as she could—and nodded.

He pushed himself up, gave Caitie his usual grin, and said, "I'll see you later."

"Of course."

After Grenn had left, Sam took his place and stared nervously at the edge of the Wall. "I hate it up here," he admitted.

Caitie crossed her arms and pouted. "You didn't have to come up."

"I wanted to make sure you were all right."

"I'm fine." Sam gave Caitie a look that made clear he didn't believe her, and she sighed. "Today is my brother's nameday."

"Oh."

"And I'm stuck here, at the edge of Westeros, with some of the worst shits in the Seven Kingdoms. I hate it." She picked up a handful of snow and tossed it as far as she could. It relieved a bit of frustration, but not enough. "If I see my brothers ever again, I'll be lucky. I'll never get to go home again, or get to wear a dress, or—or—" Her voice cracked, and tears filled her eyes. She wiped them away, but more took their place.

"Oh, Caitie, I'm so sorry."

"I hate my father," she sobbed. "I hate him!"

Sam put a comforting arm around her shoulder, and she leaned into it. "Your betrothed," he asked uncertainly. "Worse than a raper?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"We don't have to." Sam paused. "You know, Jon—"

"I don't want to talk about Jon, either."

"He feels terrible."

"He told you that?" Caitie was more than a little skeptical.

Sam hesitated before answering. "Not… exactly. But Jon never says how he's feeling."

"He said exactly how he felt half an hour ago. I've had everything handed to me, remember? Ugh, Jon hasn't a clue what being a lady was like. Why would he say something like that?"

Sam furrowed his brows and then started to chuckle. "Oh, Caitie, can't you see he's jealous of you?"

Caitie balked. "That's impossible."

Sam smiled at her as if she were being deliberately obtuse. "You're the trueborn child of a northern lord. It's all Jon's ever wanted."

"If Jon knew what it was like, he wouldn't," she snapped. "You'd think he would, considering how his favorite sister hated being a lady, but apparently not. You know, it's not as if I wanted to give up being a girl and come here, in danger of rape and death all the time. I had no other choice. I thought he understood that." She knew she was rambling like a madwoman, but Caitie was too irritated to care.

"He does understand. Or, he at least tries to. He hates himself for feeling this way; he just can't help it."

Caitie sighed. Her anger was dissipating already, but she wanted to hold on to it just a little longer.

Sam nudged her and said, "You should talk to him. He's your friend, I promise."

Caitie sighed and rubbed her temples. She could feel a headache coming on from the whole ordeal. "I really went off on him, didn't I?"

"Not that he didn't deserve it, but a little. You sort of pounced on him."

A memory emerged from the back of her mind at Sam's comment, one she hadn't thought about in... Gods, years. And somehow, she found herself laughing, because he was more right than he'd realized. "You know, my mother used to say I was like a cat. You couldn't see the claws until they were out, but once they were, someone was going to get hurt. She used to call me Kitty. I suppose that explains why I adjusted to the name Caitie so easily."

"Do you miss her?"

"Sometimes. She died a long time ago."

Sam looked down sadly. "I miss my mother. And my sister. Even my brother, sometimes. "

"Gods, I'm sorry, Sam," she said, wincing. "I know this is difficult for you, too."

"It's all right," he said. "I think... I think my mother was glad, in some ways, when I left."

"Really?"

Sam nodded. "I know she worries for me, here. But my father was... well, she tried her best to push back against him when it came to me, but there wasn't much she could do."

"How so?"

"Hmm, well, for example, I used to read to her in the evenings. When my father found out, he—um, he stopped it. She shouted at him for hours when he did. He always allowed my mother to shout at him. It never changed his mind, but she always tried." He leaned in, as if he was sharing a secret. "Between you and me, I was her favorite."

Caitie wondered if her father had ever allowed her mother to yell at him, but somehow, she doubted it. "Does she know why you joined the Night's Watch?"

Sam shook his head. "I couldn't tell her. She would never have forgiven my father if she knew."

"I can't say I'd blame her."

"No?"

She shrugged. "I've never even met your father, and I hate him for what he did to you."

Sam's smile was so bright it could have melted the Wall. "Thank you, Caitie."

She smiled back, feeling her mood lighten. "Anyway, what about your brother and sister?" she asked. "You haven't spoken as much about them. Talla and Dickon?"

"Well, Talla talked a lot—quite like you, actually."

Caitie nudged him in the ribs.

"She would climb into my bed at night when she had a nightmare," Sam continued, closing his eyes and smiling as if lost in a memory. "But Dickon was my father's favorite. He didn't understand, but I think he loved me in his own way. I hope he did."

Caitie's chest constricted with guilt as she watched him relive the memories of his siblings. She and Jon had been so wrapped up in their own problems, they'd just ignored Sam's.

"I'm so sorry. I know how much you must miss them."

Sam looked back down at her. "I know you do. But it's not all bad, here. I met you, didn't I? In some ways, you're kind of like a sister."

Caitie stared up at him, surprised, but then she beamed. "You know, I think I could do with another brother."

Sam grinned back at her, removed his arm from her shoulder, stood up, and held out a hand. "Well then, Sister; shall we go take our vows?"

"The first girl of the Night's Watch. They should bake me a cake."

Sam chuckled. "Come on, Kitty."

If Caitie could've beamed harder, she would have. She accepted his outstretched hand and followed him to the elevator, ready to face the Night's Watch vows.

Special thanks to A Random Earthian for allowing me to badger them with questions and advice about ideas for the story. You rock.