"Dead," he mutters, agreeing. Some men should be dead, obliterated. Jon tries to keep as many alive as possible, doesn't especially enjoy killing people. and yet he doesn't have a moment of regret or remorse for his part in Bolton's demise.

He closes his eyes as she begins to wash his face. Her hands are soothing, especially when she presses harder with her fingertips, finding and dispelling aches that little else seems to touch. He runs his hands down her back, then up into her hair, holding it into the spray of water.

"You were taken before we reached Ataturk. All I wanted was to get back to Lone Pine to try to find you. I didn't even know whether to hope that you were still alive." After a beat of silence, he adds, "I'll always try to find you. You know that." Don't you?