Leaving her quarters was, quite possibly, the hardest thing Caitie had ever done.

So long as she remained, she could pretend the outside world didn't exist, but the moment she and Grenn emerged, she would have to face the coming storm; would have to feel as the atmosphere changed to one of anxiety and death. Yet, she knew she had no choice. There were people to whom she needed to apologize, to grieve, and to say goodbye.

The first she found in the armory. Edd was sitting on a wooden stool with his sword laid across his lap as he took a whetstone to it, so focused on the task that he didn't notice her and Grenn—who had graciously agreed to join her—as they entered the room.

She cleared her throat and took a deep breath. "Hello."

Edd looked up between the two of them, raising one eyebrow.

Caitie swallowed, trying not to fidget under his scrutiny. "I came to apologize."

He still didn't say a word, just... waiting. Watching.

Deciding she might as well give up on her pride now, she pleaded, "Edd, please don't be angry with me. I'm sorry for pouncing on you, I didn't mean to—I just... I'm sorry."

She swore she saw his mouth twitch upward as he said, in his usual wry tone, "Are you now?"

She nodded. "Yes. I know I don't deserve to be forgiven, and you don't have to, but I'd really, truly appreciate it if you did. Forgive me, I mean. Preferably before we all die."

She could hear Grenn trying to stifle a laugh behind her. There was a pause before Edd laughed, too. "All right, all right, you're forgiven."

Caitie blinked. She hadn't expected it to be so easy. "Are... are you sure?"

"Aye. Now, stop blabbering. It's giving me a headache."

"Sorry."

"And stop saying sorry."

"Right, yes. Sorry." She winced. "I mean… you know what I mean."

Edd rolled his eyes. Caitie noticed he did that a lot in her presence. But she supposed she couldn't blame him for it.

"So…" she asked, clearing her throat and trying not to sound as nervous as she felt. "You don't hate me?"

Edd scoffed, striding forward to flick her forehead with his fingers. She batted his hand away with a scowl. "'Course I don't hate you, stupid. The three of us—we went through hell together." He nodded down at their wrists—to the scars they shared. "Couldn't hate either of you if I tried."

Caitie followed his gaze, smiling down at the marred skin of her wrists. To think she'd worried over how they looked. These scars were something she would cherish, for they were something she shared with her friends. It would link them for the rest of their lives.

Grenn smiled at him, nodding resolutely. "Aye, me neither."

"Nor me," Caitie agreed.

"Don't get me wrong," Edd added, "you're one of the most annoying people I've ever met. But I've always had a soft spot for annoying people, meself."

"Er, thanks."

"You're welcome. But Caitie, get a handle on your fucking temper 'fore your tongue kills someone."

Grenn couldn't keep his laughter at bay any longer, while Caitie shuffled from foot to foot. "I'll, um, try harder to do that."

"Good," Edd said, expression softening ever-so-slightly. "Now, you gonna be okay?"

She laughed. "We're all facing our deaths. If I were okay, there would be something supremely wrong with me. But what about you? Are you going to be okay?"

Edd shrugged. "Long as I'm drunk, I'll be fine."

Caitie snorted. "Always thinking of the important things in life."

"Yup."

"Well," she sighed, "I'll leave you to it, then. I need to find Sam and apologize to him next."

"You'd better work on your groveling. He wasn't happy when I left him."

She grimaced. That... did not sound good.

"Come on," Grenn said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Let's get it over with."

Caitie shook her head. "No, this one I need to do on my own."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure. You two go have fun—and don't get too drunk. At least not without me."

"No promises," Edd said.

Grenn smiled. "I'll see you tonight?"

Despite the weight on her shoulders, Caitie smiled back. "I wouldn't miss our last night getting drunk off our asses for the whole world."

Sam, predictably, sat alone in the deepest part of the library, a single candle his only source of light as he read a book so large he most likely couldn't have carried on his own. His leg jittered up and down as he bit his lower lip nervously, eyes intent on the page.

"Sam?" Caitie called. She kept her voice quiet and apologetic. Hoping beyond hope it would soften the blow she'd struck.

He looked up from his book, and she noted the glisten of tears in his eyes. "I can't believe you said that."

She flinched. "I know, and I'm so, so sorry. I didn't mean... I don't know what I meant."

"You really think she's dead?"

"I don't know."

Sam shook his head, closed his book, and when he looked up at her again, his eyes were so full of anger that Caitie reflexively took a step back. "Why didn't you take her back with you?" he demanded.

"I… I suppose I thought she'd be safer—"

"You knew the Wildlings were raiding the lower villages as well as I did!"

"I just didn't think—"

"You never think!"

"Sam—"

"Because it's always about you!" he cried, shooting up from his chair and storming over to her in a most unlike-Sam manner. "Everything! But believe it or not, the world doesn't revolve entirely around you. And now, because you never think of anyone but yourself, Gilly and Little Sam are dead—because of you!"

The man before her now, bearing down upon her with so much anger—this wasn't her friend. This was a stranger speaking. It had to be, didn't it? She'd never seen him raise his voice at anyone in anger. Certainly not her. She was his little sister; his Kitty. They were supposed to be family.

But perhaps she didn't deserve to be called Sam's family now.

"Go, please," he said, voice strained to its breaking point. "I want to be alone."

"I'm sorry." It didn't feel like enough, but it was all she had.

Caitie backed away, her heart pounding against her ribcage and her stomach twisting into knots. Soon, she was running down the hall, out the door into the courtyard, to the elevator, and up to the top of the Wall. The cool, fresh air that fanned her face as she walked would have calmed her under normal circumstances, but now she was beyond calming, beyond reason, beyond hope.

She didn't expect anyone to be on the Wall before sunset, but she should have known Jon would be there. He stood on the largest of the watch stations jutting out from the walkway, where the commander of the battle would oversee everything. From the platform, he had a good view of the Frostfangs.

The crunching of her boots alerted him to her presence. Jon turned, his expression full of melancholy and regret. "Are you all right?" he asked when he saw it was her.

Caitie tried her hardest to tell him she was, but the words wouldn't come out. She shook her head and before she knew what was happening, she had crumpled against him, tears streaming down her face. Apparently, she hadn't run out of them just yet.

"He's right though," she said when she had finally gotten a handle on herself long enough to relay the conversation with Sam. "Why did I have to be so selfish?" It was good there was nothing around for Caitie to break because she was beyond upset enough to try.

"You're not selfish." Jon sighed. "Sam's not in his right mind. I'll speak with him tonight."

"Don't. He'll just think I asked you to—more evidence I only think of myself," she said bitterly.

"You know that's not true."

Caitie sniffled and shook her head. "I've never seen him like that before, Jon."

"He's in love. And he's afraid."

"Well, so is everyone! Grenn and Edd and me—" She bit down on her tongue, but it was too late. Caitie closed her eyes, cursing herself for the blatant admission. "Damn it. I want to be brave. I don't want to be afraid."

Jon looked thoughtful. "There's no shame in fear," he said. "What matters is how we face it. My father told me that once."

It was something Caitie could picture coming from Ned Stark. She wondered if he'd been afraid when Joffrey took his head.

"And if I don't want to face it?" she asked. "What does that mean?"

He sighed. "I don't think anyone wants to face it. But that doesn't mean you're not brave. The only time a man can be brave is when he's afraid. Father told that one to Robb."

Caitie tensed, ready to hold back the wave of anger at the sound of Robb's name, but it never came. Perhaps the prospect of death had softened her, but even after their exchange at Winterfell, even with all his mistakes… war was so complicated, and leading in war was even more so. She couldn't fathom what she would do if the Night's Watch had asked her to lead them in the fight against the Wildlings. So what right did Caitie have to judge the King in the North? What right did she have when she had never led anyone? When she hadn't even been there?

Besides that, Robb was a Stark. He was Jon's brother. And he was the only king in the entire Seven Kingdoms fighting for something worthwhile.

She sighed. "I've been in a constant state of fear for two-and-a-half years. I never thought it made me brave."

"You're one of the bravest people I've ever met." Jon's gaze didn't waver. His eyes stayed fixed on her, and Caitie knew, without the shadow of a doubt, that he meant what he'd said.

She opened her mouth to speak, only to close it soon after, suddenly not knowing how to express herself. Instead, she stepped forward once more, wrapped her arms around his middle, and rested her head against his chest. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

When she opened her eyes, she looked to see the sun starting its descent behind the Frostfangs. "What about you? Are you afraid?"

"Aye," he said. "Terrified."

She sighed. "I don't know whether I find that more comforting or concerning."

Jon snorted.

"How... how long do we have?"

"I don't know. A day, maybe? If that."

Caitie stared out beyond the Wall, trying to imagine what Mance Rayder's army would look like when they came to kill her and her friends. Trying to imagine what death would feel like. Will it hurt? she wondered. Or will it feel like falling asleep? Will I even notice? Will I even care?

"I wonder what I'll miss the most when I'm dead," she said at length.

"For you, I'd assume it would be ale."

Caitie pulled away, frowning as she thought about it. "Probably, although…"

"Although?"

She shrugged nonchalantly, but a smile peeked through. Embarrassing Jon always had an odd way of cheering her. "Sex is certainly up there on the list."

To her surprise, Jon laughed. "I'll miss your crude jokes."

Caitie almost pointed out to him that she hadn't even made a joke; not really, anyway. But, as it was their last night in the world, she decided to forgive him for his lack of humor.

"And I'll miss your brooding charm," she said, looking up at the sky, a beautiful mix of golden and blue. "I should probably go before…" Before Sam came to join Jon for watch duty. She didn't need to say it, though—Jon understood, as always.

But before she left, there was something she had to tell him. "I want you to know: Ser Alliser might not admit it, but you're the best the Night's Watch has to offer."

"I was just doing my duty," he replied modestly.

Caitie rolled her eyes and laughed. Gods, it was so like him to ignore a compliment with the excuse of duty. "If you say so."

She took one last look at her best friend and started her walk to the elevator.

"Caitie," Jon called. She turned back around to see a ghost of a smile on his face. "You, too."

There was nothing that could ever mean more to her. "I'm so glad I met you," she said. "Death or not."

Jon smiled properly. "So am I. More than anything."

As the hours ticked by into the dead of night, Caitie finally fell into a restless sleep in her quarters. Grenn lay curled up behind her with an arm tossed lazily over her side. After drinking with Edd to forget their troubles, the two had spent the last of their time before the battle holed up in her quarters, trying to forget the world outside. They hadn't stopped until they were both too tired to continue.

"Hey," he whispered, just as she was beginning to fall into a deep sleep, "wake up."

She grumbled something unsavory and batted his hand away from her shoulder.

He laughed softly. "I'll keep my cock attached, thanks. Now, come on, get up. I think I heard someone at your door."

Those words got her attention. Caitie opened one eye. "Who?"

She felt him shrug. "Dunno."

Sighing, she sat up and rubbed her eyes. "I'd better go see who it is. You stay here. Just in case."

Grenn nodded. "All right." She sat up, but before she could leave the bed, he caught her chin. "I love you."

She kissed him. "I love you, too."

Caitie slipped on her clothes as quickly as she could. She opened her door a crack and peeked out through it, but even as light spilled in, she couldn't see a soul in the hallway. She was about to turn back around when she heard faint footsteps and the soft thud of a door closing at the other end of the hall.

Furrowing her brows, Caitie exited her quarters and walked toward the source of the noise. There was no one in the hallway at all, and the only door through which she could go led into the courtyard. When she stepped outside, she quickly saw the shadow of someone very large and rather short on the other side. Sam, she thought. He was still supposed to be on watch duty with Jon, but it was definitely him, for the door he'd passed through eventually led to the library.

Before Caitie could change her mind, she followed, crossing the courtyard to the door through which he had gone. She descended down a set of spiral stone steps, only stopping when she heard muffled voices. Sam was speaking to someone. Caitie hesitated, unable to decide whether to interrupt or leave him and whoever else alone. But Jon had said this could be their last night, and she wasn't going to die in the midst of a fight with one of her best friends.

In the end, that won out.

Caitie began her descent once more—but halted again when she heard Maester Aemon speak.

"Do you know who I was before I came here?" he asked, his high, thin voice filled with emotion. "What I could have been if I'd only said the word?" He sighed. "Of course you do. I met many girls as Aemon Targaryen. A future king always does."

Caitie blanched. A future king. She had always assumed Maester Aemon to be a Targaryen—his name made it clear. But Crown Prince Aemon Targaryen—older brother of King Aegon?

"Some of them were quite forward in their attempts to win my affections," Maester Aemon said. "One of them succeeded… I was very young."

"Who was she?" Sam asked.

Caitie needed to leave. She shouldn't be eavesdropping on a conversation like this. But she stayed rooted to the spot, unable to move a single muscle.

"Ah, I could tell you everything about her. Who she was, how we met, the color of her eyes, and the shape of her nose. She's more real than you are." Maester Aemon paused. "We could spend all night trading tales of lost loves. Nothing makes the past a sweeter place to visit than the prospect of imminent death."

She'd heard enough. Gathering all her courage, Caitie turned the final corner and stepped through the archway into the darkened library. She walked past rows of bookcases, towards the voices.

"Go to bed, Tarly," the maester was saying as finally saw them, sitting at the lone table in the very back of the room.

When they heard her footsteps, Sam looked up, while Maester Aemon stopped short of blowing out the candle next to him.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to…" What? She didn't mean to eavesdrop? She didn't mean to leave Gilly behind? She didn't mean to be the worst person in Westeros—all right, well, maybe not the worst.

"Ah, Caitie; it's quite all right," Maester Aemon said, with a twinkle in his eye that told her he knew she'd been listening. "I was just leaving, as was your friend. I suggest that both of you get some rest. I imagine the battle will begin soon."

"Yes, Maester," Caitie said. She turned to look at Sam, but couldn't gauge his emotions, for his face remained blank.

With some help, Maester Aemon stood from his chair, but brushed off further help in walking back to his office.

When he was gone, and Sam and Caitie were finally alone, she averted her eyes. "I…" she trailed off, not knowing the right words to say. She settled on, "I thought you'd be on watch duty with Jon."

"He told me he'd take the rest of it so I could get some sleep."

"Oh." She toyed with a fraying hem at the edge of her sleeve. "Are—are you going to be fighting?"

"Of course I am," Sam said. But his voice shook.

She nodded, not liking the idea of him in the thick of battle, but not wanting to push him when he seemed so set on it. "I'll be up on the Wall with Jon."

"Keep him safe, if you're able."

Caitie nodded again. The awkwardness took over once more. "Listen," she said at last, "I know you're angry with me, and I know it's for good reason. But I don't want to die with us like… this."

"Neither do I." Tentatively, he smiled. "I didn't mean to yell at you like I did. It was my fault as much as it was yours. I never should have left her in Mole's Town. I should have listened to her when she said she didn't want to leave. I'm no more angry with you than I am with myself."

"When I saw her…" Caitie stepped forward and placed a hand on Sam's arm. "She understood. Truly, she did."

Sam sighed. "I know. I just wish you'd have told me of your plans. I would have asked…"

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

"It's okay."

But it wasn't okay. He knew it; she knew it. And nothing would ever make it okay for Sam ever again. Of course, even if Caitie had asked Gilly to come back with her, it wouldn't have mattered. She and Little Sam would die along with Sam and Caitie and all their brethren.

It was just… all a mess.

"We should get out of this place," she said. "Have a drink with me? One last time?"

Sam smiled. "I'd like that."

The two of them blew out the remaining candles in the library and started back up towards the door to the courtyard, as it was the fastest way to the kitchens. Small flakes of snow were falling as they exited. Caitie rubbed her hands together to generate heat, then stopped when she heard two people arguing over by the southern gate. One was Pyp, who had the peephole in the gate open, and the other…

It couldn't be.

"I'm sorry," Pyp said. "I can't open the gate for anyone. Orders."

"You don't understand!" Gilly's voice replied frantically. "They killed everyone! Everyone but me and my baby."

Caitie's legs turned to jelly. She had to grab onto the railing for support. "Seven fucking Hells."

Sam didn't hear her. He flew down the steps from the walkway into the courtyard as the voice from outside the gate continued.

"They may have seen me. They may have followed me. Please—"

"Sorry, I can't," Pyp said, and he genuinely did sound sorry.

"If they find us out here, you don't know—"

Sam rushed over to him. "Pyp! Open the gate!"

"I can't!" he hissed.

Caitie could just make out Gilly's eyes widening with relief. "Sam, is that you?"

"Yes!"

Pyp ignored them. "Thorne gave me strict orders not to open the gate."

"Oh, Pyp, open the fucking gate!"

From the balcony, Caitie burst into incredulous laughter. She had to cover her mouth with her hand to stop it from being too loud.

Pyp, looking just as shocked, slammed the peephole shut and did as Sam asked. "I never heard you curse before," he said.

"Yes, well, best get used to it."

The gate swung open and Gilly ran through into Sam's arms. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Little Sam fussed a bit, but he calmed as soon as Sam soothed him. "Shh, you're all right. Of course you are, my brave little fella."

"It was horrible," said Gilly.

"I'm so, so sorry. I didn't know until I got back."

"Don't let them send me away, Sam."

"Never," he promised.

"I know there's no women allowed—"

"Anyone who tries to throw you out will be having words with me. From now on, wherever you go, I go too."

Caitie watched as the two of them looked at each other, unwavering in their stares, as if they were the only ones who existed. She wondered, briefly, if she and Grenn seemed that disgustingly in love whenever they looked at each other. Gods, she really, really hoped not.

"Well!" she called from the balcony above, grinning like mad. "Anyone who tries to throw you out will be having more than words with me!"

The two of them blinked, remembering where they were. But Gilly still smiled as Caitie hurried down to the gate.

"I can't tell you how happy I am to see you," she said.

"Did I worry you?"

Caitie hesitated. "Ah—no, of course not. We all knew you'd get out." Pyp snorted, which she promptly ignored. "I'm just sorry I didn't offer to take you back with me. I didn't think—"

"It's okay," said Gilly. "But you should have this back." She handed Little Sam to his namesake and brought out a knife—the knife Caitie had given her on that fateful day in Mole's Town.

"Gods, I completely forgot I gave you this."

Sam stared at Caitie, at a loss for words. "Why didn't you say anything before?"

"I just… forgot." Before Sam could reply, Gilly held the knife up for Caitie to take. She shook her head. "You should keep it. Consider it a belated nameday present."

Gilly frowned. "Are you sure?"

"Definitely. It's yours."

After a pause, she swallowed and pocketed the knife. "Thank you."

Caitie shrugged. "I think everyone needs at least one sharp, pointy object on their person at all times. Hopefully, you'll never need to use it, but—"

Gilly threw her arms around Caitie's neck, cutting her sentence short. "Thank you," she whispered again.

"You're very welcome." The two girls extricated themselves from each other to find Sam staring at them.

"You gave her a knife," he said.

Caitie nodded. "I did."

"I thought you abandoned her. But you didn't."

"Why would you ever think Caitie abandoned me?" Gilly asked incredulously.

Sam blinked. "Well—I—she—"

"It was my fault," Caitie assured him. "I should have remembered."

With that settled, Sam and Gilly turned their attentions back on each other. It was as if Caitie and Pyp had dissolved into thin air. "Are you sure you're all right?" he asked.

She nodded.

"I promise. I'll never leave you again."

"Wherever I go, you go too?"

"Yes."

The staring was back, somehow even more intense than before, and Caitie was almost certain one was going to pull the other onto the ground right in front of her and Pyp. But then a horn blew once, and the four of them stared at each other, wide-eyed, waiting with anticipation.

The horn blew again. Terror flooded Caitie's body.

Two Blasts.

The Wildlings were here.

The battle is next! I'm excited but also nervous because battle sequences are boring/difficult/scary to write, and I want to do it well. The chapter should, hopefully, be ready by Valentine's Day, because what's more romantic than reading about people killing each other?