Author's Note:

First Z Nation fic, yaaay. I got a lot of feelings about the finale and will probably continue to have feelings until it returns in the fall.

So in the meantime, have some vague shippy things.

She knew there was a problem when she started shivering despite the fact that it had been warming up the further west they went. Cassandra didn't know what month it was or even what season they were supposed to be in, but she was pretty sure she shouldn't be cold.

There was infection in the gash on her leg, and they all knew it. The trek through Wyoming thus far hadn't produced anything to fend it off, and even Doc's seemingly endless bag of supplies had dwindled to a few aspirin that she refused. She could handle pain. She'd handled a lot worse than a bum leg. She also didn't seem to be convincing anyone of this.

Of course, Warren and Doc had other things to worry about – making sure Murphy didn't run off at the sight of a bush rustling and staying on the track that NSA guy had given them to Mt. Wilson – so it seemed like 10K had taken it upon himself to worry excessively for all of them.

Cassandra had managed to feign sleep well enough when Doc got up to take over watch. They'd set up a makeshift camp around the van. Warren was asleep in the driver's seat, Murphy stretched out in the back, and the other three had strung up a tarp on a stick outside and piled as many blankets as they had into something soft enough to sleep on. It was a common setup these days, and though Warren often insisted that Doc should take sleep in the van sometimes he'd just counter that Murphy snored and ignore any further arguments.

"I know you're awake."

She nearly jumped at the sudden voice next to her. Either she was too out of it to have noticed his approach, or 10K moved a lot quieter than he ought to. Really, both seemed feasible at this point. Cassandra let out a breath, doing her best to not let it give away the continued tremors.

"So are you." She rolled over enough to look up at where he had sat down, back against the tire. "Doc's on watch. That means you sleep."

He shrugged one shoulder, eyes locked on the other side of the road. "Extra set of eyes doesn't hurt. I'm not tired anyway."

Cassandra considered the young man for a moment before rolling her eyes and pushing herself upright, unsuccessfully trying to hold back a grimace as her leg shifted. "I don't need a watch either, you know. Not on my deathbed yet." She regretted the wording immediately when 10K's eyes darted over to her, something like panic flashing behind them. "I'm fine, really."

"You're shaking," he told her matter-of-factly, leaning closer. His hand had extended seemingly before he realized it and stuttered to a quick halt a second later. The hesitation wasn't surprising – she had kind of threatened to stab the kid the first time he tried doing something like that – but he got over it quicker than usual and pressed the tentative hand to her forehead. She could tell it was bad even before he cursed quietly just by how chilled he felt. "Hell, Cassandra, we've gotta tell Warren."

"No, no we don't." He was halfway to his feet before she caught his arm and tugged him back down. "I'm fine, really."

"That is not fine," 10K insisted, though his voice lowered a little when they heard the truck shift slightly. "That's the furthest thing from fine – we've gotta let her know."

"So we tell Warren, then what? No, listen." She gave another quick tug on his arm when he glanced away. "Then what? We go on some side trip for antibiotics, spend a few days wandering in circles for something that was probably looted years ago? We have to get to Mt. Wilson, remember?"

"Screw Mt. Wilson."

That managed to catch her off guard – not only the words but the sheer conviction with which he said them – and they fell silent, 10K looking away again almost self-consciously.

It wasn't like Cassandra been completely oblivious to how things had been shifting with them somehow, especially after the ordeal with that resurrection cult. She'd mostly just chosen to ignore it. They had a mission, they had to focus…and this damn fever was making it a lot harder to focus lately.

There had been some kind of strange simultaneous realization that they were the youngest of the group by far, especially now that Mack and Addy were gone. Cassandra had been pulled directly from whatever fresh hell Tobias's place had been and knew she had acted far beyond her age for a while, simply to try and save face. 10K had seemed determined to prove his worth in a group of such apparent grave importance by acting as mature as possible. At some point it just hadn't been necessary anymore and they had some strange sort of bonding over the fact that they were both barely out of their teens.

Come to think of it, he still might be in his teens – no one had ever actually asked.

10K had gotten protective, though, and even more so after she'd gotten hurt. Every time her leg would act up he was always the first to offer a literal shoulder to lean on, he kept trying to split his share of water with her, and now he looked determined to give up on this entire mission just because she'd spiked a fever.

"Look," Cassandra began, shifting her grip from his wrist to his hand and almost smiling at the way it made him twitch a little, "we're going to get to California. And hell, it's a medical base, right? If anyone's going to have something for this damn leg, it's them."

"We haven't even hit Nevada yet," he pointed out, and she shrugged.

"A few weeks ago we hadn't hit South Dakota, and before that we hadn't hit Illinois. We're moving. We'll get there."

"It's still gonna take a while."

"Probably," she conceded, "but we'll get there." When he still looked skeptical Cassandra sighed, moving enough to lean against the truck next to him. "Fever's probably going to break by morning anyway."

10K frowned at the other side of the road for a moment before seeming to relax a little. "Still think we should at least look."

"You sure you're not trying to stall so you can get that ten-thousandth kill in before we get there?"

The look that got was almost amused and it went quiet again, broken only by the occasional sound of Murphy snoring through the window. Cassandra vaguely realized she hadn't actually let go of his hand yet, but 10K didn't seem overly offended by the gesture so she decided it wasn't worth the effort. After a few minutes he spoke again, and she could feel him tensing a little as if it was a struggle to get the words out.

"That's not my real name." Cassandra shot a puzzled look up at him and he let out a steadying breath, voice going even quieter. "Ten thousand. That's not my name."

"No shit, I never would've guessed."

A quick huff of a laugh escaped before he pulled himself back together and shook his head. "Doc thinks it's Jeff, but I just pulled that one out at random – knew a delivery guy named Jeff, and it seemed like a good answer at the time."

"Fair enough." She considered him for a moment, trying to find some kind of tell in his expression, but it was still carefully blank. "So what, is it really Kyle Reese or something similarly badass?" It took his look of confusion to remember that the kid knew about as much pop culture as the zombies did and she quickly tried to clarify. "He was this guy in Terminator, he –"

"It's Tommy."

Whatever she'd been expecting, it hadn't been that. Cassandra caught herself staring, realized he actually looked embarrassed by this, and a moment later realized that, for the first time since she met him, he actually looked his age.

"Tommy?"

"Well Thomas, technically, but it…" He shook his head, bit his lip, and kept pointedly looking away. "My dad called me Tommy."

It was a strange revelation. He'd joined the group about the same time she had and Doc had introduced him as 10K with very little explanation at first. It was obvious he had made up the name himself, but there had never been much reason to consider what he'd been called before the apocalypse hit.

"Tommy." It was more of a statement than a question this time and he swallowed.

"Yeah."

Cassandra rolled that around her head a few more times before scoffing lightly. "You know, it fits." He looked a little surprised and she shrugged. "Nothing wrong with a name."

"Just…don't tell the others," 10K – Tommy, hell she didn't even know what to think of him as now – said, glancing up at the tarp toward where Doc was perched on the top of the truck. "Especially not Murphy, you know how he'd get."

"Why'd you tell me, then?"

"I dunno, I was…" He still looked embarrassed by the entire thing and wouldn't meet her eyes. "Go out there every day knowing one of us might get killed any second. I just figured someone should know. Just in case."

Cassandra watched him a moment longer trying to get some kind of appropriate response worked out. It might've been easier if the fever wasn't a factor, but as it was…

"How old are you?" she finally asked, and couldn't bring herself to regret the words when he finally looked back down at her.

"What?"

"How old are you? We've never really asked."

He looked more confused than anything else now, and the response sort of proved his age for him. "How old are you?"

Cassandra snorted, eyes rolling quickly. "Not polite to ask a woman her age, remember that. I'm twenty-one, now answer the question."

Tommy hesitated before shrugging. "Eighteen."

She hadn't been far off on her guesses then. It was still a bit of a shock, realizing he would've been fifteen when the outbreak hit and probably no older than sixteen when he had to give his father mercy. Cassandra let out a breath, feeling the exhaustion from the past few days' work catching up to her very suddenly. She let her better judgment fall by the wayside and dropped her head onto Tommy's shoulder.

"We'll make sure to get you completely hammered for your twenty-first."

He seemed wary still, but didn't actually try to move and started to relax after a minute or so. "So you're not going to tell them?"

Cassandra grinned, eyes closing and managing to block out the surrounding apocalypse for at least a few minutes. "Secret's safe with me, Tommy."