We don't have a cure. [Bluntly put, but true. She's only really admitted her fears of this going on for so long that patients only continue to worsen to the point of death to John and Steve. It's an effort not to spit the words to Theon.

But he has to know, in some corner of his heart. That's what has him like this.]

Comfort is all we can do at this point. Keeping the fevers down, keeping them hydrated, fed. Keeping them calm. [Easier said than done, really, but she's yet to give up.] No one here is sitting on their hands.

[Speaking of hands--she sees two good ones on him, and neither are doing anything useful.]

Come. You're going to help me wash these.