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 burning agony anymore. Instead, she was 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. And after that, the memories of the night before came back in a rush, propelling her into full consciousness. She needed to get up, close her window before the smell made her vomit, find her friends, and figure out what was happening.

Opening her eyes, she groaned as the light streaming in through the window of her quarters hit them. Her head screamed in pain as she moved it whilst trying to look down at the rest of her body. Someone—Sam, if she'd had to hazard a guess—had bandaged her ankle and her torso, making it almost impossible to move. Not that Caitie would have; she had a distinct feeling if she even tried, agonizing would be the lucky option.

Well, shit. Getting out of bed 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, though she knew from the timbre and tone who it would be. Sure enough, Edd sat in a chair right next to her bed, peering down at her with a flat expression.

"You could try to sound more relieved," she replied, attempting to sound flippant, though her voice sounded too hoarse for it to be effective. "I did nearly die."

"Hmph. You barely scratched yourself."

"My ribs would have to disagree." Her leathers 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?"

The wry expression slid off Edd's face, into one of sorrow. His eyes filled with unshed tears, even as he tried to hide them from her. And she knew.

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

Edd nodded slowly, for the first time completely solemn.

Caitie couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't think. She kept repeating, he's dead in her mind, over and over, but the words 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.

No. No, 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 like she could feel the pain in her body.

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

As if that mattered to her.

"Ah, don't cry." But his voice caught on the words.

Caitie touched a finger to her cheek. To her surprise, tears were streaming down her face—she just hadn't felt it.

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

Edd hesitated. "Not sure I wanna leave you here alone like this."

She swallowed bile; the last thing she wanted was for him to see her break. "Please."

He furrowed his brows, evidently debating something, but in the end, he gave a stiff nod. As he stood, she saw movement out of the corner of her eye, near her door. It was Ghost. Caitie hadn't even realized he was in the room, he'd been so quiet. He stood slowly from his spot beside her door and moved aside. Once Edd had left the room, Ghost padded over to Caitie's bed and jumped on.

She hardly noticed. How could she? Grenn was dead. 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; tears of blinding pain, of the deep, aching agony of loss.

Caitie threw her arms around Ghost's neck and sobbed into his fur. For how long, she didn't know. She barely felt the ache in her ribs as her chest heaved. Her world was crumbling around her. She was afraid if she let go of Ghost, he would crumble, too.

Caitie had thought losing Owen and Cerys to be unbearable, but this was 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 into his fur. "I want him back."

"I know you do, Kitty."

Relief coupled with the sorrow at the sound of the voice in her doorway. She looked up; her heart stilled. "Sam." And then she was sobbing again, gasping for breath.

He kneeled 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 to what she had wanted.

"How could he leave me?"

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

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

Nothing else seemed to come out of her mouth besides those three words.

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

She cried until her 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, but she still felt wretched after the fact.

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

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

This news sent Caitie reeling. Jon had gone to meet with the man who had ordered their friends' deaths, who had sent a giant to kill Grenn.

What was he thinking?

"Why?" she asked.

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

Caitie's eyes bulged and her heart beat wildly in her chest, for Sam's words had given her a burst of energy. Mance Rayder's death might be something to celebrate, but it wasn't worth Jon's life. Nothing was worth that.

"But they'll kill him!" she cried.

"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, to 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, and she was too weak to force him off.

"Caitriona, stop it, please."

The use of her given name had the intended effect; Caitie froze, and the only noise left was her involuntary sniffles. Then, "Don't make me leave someone else."

"I'm sorry. I have to. There's nothing we can do; I hate it, but it's... it's just the way it is." Sam sighed miserably and squeezed her hand. "Please rest. You're going to need your strength."

Caitie's stomach dropped. The words themselves were nothing suspicious, but Sam's tone had struck a chord with her. It was just a little too ominous for her liking. "What does that mean?"

Sam shifted, twiddling his thumbs as he always did when he was nervous. "Just rest, Kitty. Jon… I'm sure he'll be okay."

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

He glanced all around the room, as if searching for an escape route from the conversation, before he realized there was no escape, and reluctantly answered her. "They… they know."

Those words struck fear into her heart like nothing else could. She wanted to ask: know what? But she knew the answer already.

"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, his face going waxy. "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, as if by covering herself she could undo such a violation. "They saw me?"

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

The anxious knot in her stomach unfurled, just a bit. "And… how bad is it?"

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

"Oh, for fuck's sake—just tell me."

Sam sighed in defeat. "It's not good. It's why Jon had Ghost stand guard while you slept, and why Edd hasn't left your bedside. Some of the brothers…" He shut his eyes tightly, working up the courage to continue. "They think you should be punished in a way that—that benefits them."

At this, Caitie wanted to vomit, but she had nothing left in her stomach. "And the others?"

"Ser Alliser's allies. They want you… publicly executed. But don't worry," he added, in a voice that he obviously meant to be cheerful but came across as forced. "Maester Aemon has promised to make them see sense."

"What? Why would he do that?"

"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."

In response, Sam only sighed, but he didn't argue with her, either, for they both knew the truth: this was the end of the line. She had used up all her luck, and now, all that remained was death.

"Do they know who I am?"

"No. All they know is that you're a girl." He paused, twiddling his thumbs again. "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. All of a sudden, her troubles seemed far away. "Where... where is his body? I want to see it. I want to say—" A sob escaped before she could stop it. "I want to say goodbye."

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

"Oh, fuck Ser Alliser!"

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

In a fit of desperation, Caitie clutched at Sam's arm. "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, and she knew that she didn't have any energy left.

"Would you like me to get Gilly and the baby? She'll be so happy to see you; she was adamant that I get her as soon as you woke up."

Caitie swallowed down her helplessness. She 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.

A pressure built in her chest; she couldn't breathe as she was smothered by the single emotion she had left: hate. Hatred for Mance Rayder, and Ser Alliser, and the lords of Westeros who had refused to come to their aid.

I can't do this. Not again.

Caitie closed her eyes, but the faces of those she'd lost burned the back of her eyelids until she couldn't bear it any longer. And with no way to release the burden, she screamed, and sobbed, and cursed—and nothing, not even three broken ribs, could stop her.

Somehow, she fell back to sleep.

And Caitie would have stayed that way, too, 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 burst into tears again.

Carefully, Gilly rose from her chair and came to sit on the bed. She took Caitie's hand and squeezed it tightly. "I'm so 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. "I can't do this, Gilly."

Gilly nodded sagely, with tears in her big brown eyes; tears, which Caitie soon realized were on her behalf. "Sam told me… he said you lost someone."

Lost someone. It was true, and yet 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 the truth she had to face.

"I'm so sorry," said Gilly. "I wish there was something I could do to help you."

Caitie sniffled, trying to focus on her friend, for whether Gilly knew it or not, that did help. "I'm just glad you and the baby are okay. No one found you?"

"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. I've never seen someone so scared. 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."

Her free hand balled into a fist, and a new sort of fury consumed her. Because Grenn had fought to his last breath—he'd saved all their lives—and he had died, while Janos Slynt was alive because he'd hid in the pantry like a sniveling little coward.

If she hadn't been in so much pain, she'd have found him and lodged her dagger in his throat.

"There's more," continued Gilly, oblivious to Caitie's fury. "A king came to help the Night's Watch—"

She blinked, her anger temporarily replaced by confusion. "What? Which king?"

"Stannis Bar-ath—"

"Baratheon."

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

So many questions went through Caitie's mind in so little time that she didn't know where to start. She didn't know much about Stannis Baratheon—at least, not beyond what everyone did. 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 even though she was grateful for the rescue, she was also confused. Why in Seven Hells would the king come to the aid of the Night's Watch? The last anyone at Castle Black 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 simplest question. "Do you know why he came?"

"No," Gilly said. "Sam tried to explain all the history of the Baratheons, 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. "D'you want me to find him for you? He can explain better."

"If you don't mind."

"I wouldn't've asked if I did. 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 and held him close, wishing she could smile at him and simply 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 the 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.

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. 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 and over to the doorway, where Jon was standing. 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, rising from his place on the bed. Gilly came forward, and Caitie handed the baby back to her, missing the warmth of him as soon as he'd gone.

The door shut behind them, and just like that, 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 of it. "How do you feel?"

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

"Stupid question," he said, with a melancholic half-smile.

"It's okay." They lapsed into silence, probably because neither seemed to know what to say. It went on for an age, until Caitie could no longer stand it, and said, "I'm sorry about Ygritte."

Jon gaped at her. "You're sorry?"

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

"Shh," he soothed, moving from the foot of the bed to the head so that he could put an arm around her shoulders. "It's all right, you're all right."

With Jon beside her, Caitie was finally able to surrender, to allow herself the release she so desperately needed. She wept and wept—for Grenn, for Ygritte, for Pyp, and for all the horror they'd endured and would endure in the months to come—until there was nothing left in her but dull acceptance. When it was over, she wiped the remaining tears out of her eyes, knowing, somehow, that this would be the last of them.

"You loved him," Jon said at last.

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

He 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 rasped. "I sent him to his death."

This was the apex of Jon's guilt, she realized. 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.

She choked down a sob. "We were all in danger of dying. Grenn wanted to go." And he refused to take me with him.

"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. Because Jon had done everything he could to convince their brothers to seal the tunnel and limit their casualties. It had been Ser Alliser who wouldn't listen to him; Ser Alliser who had needlessly killed six good men. He may as well have thrust his sword into Grenn's chest.

But not Jon.

"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, for he was right: nothing would make it any easier. Suddenly, she felt as if someone had wrapped her in a blanket made of lead. All she wanted was to lie down and give into the feeling, but she resisted, rubbing her eyes, trying to keep them open. Despite her sorrow, Caitie still had questions. "Stannis Baratheon—Sam said you spoke to him."

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

Caitie wanted to laugh at this, but she couldn't muster it. "The threat is far from over," she replied as her mind wandered back to the Fist of the First Men—of the White Walker.

Of the wight children.

They may have defeated the Wildling army, but Wildlings were nothing compared to the Army of the Dead. Caitie didn't think she would ever be free from the memories of the Fist. They'd always be there, like a tickle in the back of her mind she couldn't scratch.

One thing at a time. The White Walkers are 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 won't like our answer."

When Caitie stared at him, even more confused than she had been 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's gonna 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.

As his words set in, a memory came to her, so far away now that she felt as if it belonged to a different person; one who no longer existed. "Someday, if we live through this nightmare, I thought we could try to find your parents—your real ones."

"What? Leave Castle Black?"

"After the battle, assuming we survive, the Night's Watch will need to find new recruits. We can ask whoever becomes the new Lord Commander—hopefully not Thorne—for the assignment. There's no rule that says we aren't allowed to take a few detours."

Caitie wanted to curse herself for such stupidity. Why had she planned for a future that would never come? All it did was make the loss hurt more.

While she forced the memories down into the deepest, darkest parts of her mind, 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, Caitie must have gotten close.

Jon nodded, smoothing out her covers for her. When he looked as though he was going to leave, she reached out and gripped his arm. She didn't know why, really. She just... needed to know she wasn't alone. "Stay? Just until I fall asleep."

His eyes softened. "Aye. 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 to them both. But she couldn't bring herself to tell him to go once she'd fallen asleep. She didn't want to wake up by herself.

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.