A/N: Thank you all so much for your reviews and follows! It should come as no surprise when I say I am a big Walking Dead fan, which was part of the inspiration for this. But I also just like a really, really good post-apocalyptic scenario. I'm not much of a sci-fi/horror writer, though, so the zombie presence is limited - just wanted to let you know since some of you expressed you're not big zombie fans.

TWO

The following morning as she always did, Kate awoke with the first light, which at that time of year was around five thirty in the morning. Naturally, it was frustrating to be awake at such an early hour when there was no shift to rush off to or no real place to be, but it did enable her to get up and get moving to get things done before the heat of mid-day set in. Not sweating under the blistering July sun was always preferable.

Kate arched her back and stretched before she felt two paws press against her rib cage. Like always, Tux awoke even earlier and waited for her to stir so he could beg for his breakfast. She sighed and reached out a hand to scratch his ear as he began to purr.

While absentmindedly stroking the feline, Kate thought about the man sleeping in the room beside hers. The prior night as he'd consumed a protein bar, a snack-size bag of pretzels and her last Snickers bar they hadn't talked about much in the way of personal details. She didn't know his last name or his profession before the world as they knew it ended. Mostly, they'd talked about his most recent experiences.

Rick had explained to her that after the death of his mother and daughter he'd been trying to get back into the city, having no other place to go. On his way, he'd run across a group of ten made up of two families with children and two more single people they'd picked up along the way. He'd thought they would be a good group to stay with and they were for a while. When they ran out of food, however, they split up. Shortly after leaving them he'd found enough food to supply him for a few weeks, but the very next night he'd been robbed. He'd estimated that had been a week or ten days earlier. Since then, his access to food and water had been limited at best.

Kate sympathized with his story and imagined there were many others out there wandering around with similar tales. She was one of the lucky ones who hadn't had to fight or forage for too long. Every morning she woke up to a well-stocked cabinet was she was incredibly thankful for.

After he'd sheepishly confessed to being too tired to continue chatting, she'd let him stretch out on the couch and retired to the bedroom to read until the light disappeared. Granted, with Tux walking all over her lap looking for attention, she didn't get much reading done, but that was okay; her thoughts were consumed with Rick.

Upon hearing his tale, Kate felt even happier about her decision to allow him to stay the night. She appreciated his trepidation, but she had not once second thought the choice for fear of her own safety. She was armed with a weapon that was second nature to use, but she knew she wouldn't need it. She had seen the relief in his eyes when she'd give him water and food. He never asked for more, but instead thanked her profusely. She saw in him the exact feelings she'd had herself when she found the treehouse: a desperate need for a break from the living nightmare the world had become.

Lying in bed, Kate considered how to proceed with regards to her guest. As per her invitation, she was certain he had plans to leave her treehouse that morning and move on. She would, of course, provide him with food and water before he left if he chose to go, but the more she thought about it, Kate thought it might be beneficial for him to stay.

She had been in the treehouse a little more than two months and it was an almost perfect oasis, all things considered. Yet, there were still things she wanted to do to make it more inhabitable long term. At the very least her rainwater collection system needed upgraded. With all she wanted to accomplish, she knew having an extra pair of hands would make the tasks easier. Plus, there were some things she simply couldn't do because they required a second person or because, as much as it pained her to admit it, she simply wasn't physically strong enough to accomplish them solo.

When Tux's subtle meows turned into full on howls, Kate pushed herself from bed and quickly changed into clean underwear and a fresh t-shirt before pulling on her jean shorts. Unfortunately, the days of waking up with a morning shower and a warm cup of coffee had long since passed. After slipping her shoes back on and tucking her gun into the back of her shorts, she followed the impatient feline back out into the main area of the treehouse.

Kate's eyes immediately drifted towards the couch and she was shocked to find it completely vacant. Her gaze traveled towards the trap door and she saw that it was indeed open. Disappointed, she took a half step back and nearly landed on Tux's tiny toes. Rick had gone? Without even bothering to say goodbye? That was certainly disappointing.

Still somewhat shocked, Kate walked to the cabinet and pulled out one of Tux's cans of food. She opened it absentmindedly, dumped it on a paper plate and put it on the ground for him. Just as she was about to walk out onto the balcony to see if she could see her former guest, the rope ladder rattled against the edge of the trap door.

Fearful it was a zombie that had breached her line, Kate pulled her gun from her shorts and hurried over to the door. Much to her relief, her guest was not undead, but very much alive.

"Whoa don't shoot!"

"Sorry." She sighed and put her gun away. "I thought you'd left and wasn't sure who or what was coming up the ladder."

"No, I—oof, does that ever get easier?" He lamented when he flung his body up onto the floor of the treehouse. Pushing himself upright he looked at her and said, "Sorry, I just needed to, ah, use the facilities and I didn't think this place had a bathroom."

"Actually…"

"Seriously!?"

Kate laughed at the way his jaw dropped and shoulders rounded. "Honestly, calling it a bathroom it's the absolute loosest use of the term. It's a toilet and sink on the other side of that wall," she said, gesturing towards the kitchen area, "but I don't really use it unless it's dark."

"How does it work? Where does the water come from? I'm assuming this isn't your treehouse. That is, you're not the original owner?"

She shook her head. "Definitely not. As for how it works…construction isn't exactly my forte, but the best I can tell is that a water line was run underground from the main house and then water was pumped up into a holding tank in the bathroom area. Pump doesn't work anymore, obviously, but I've been filling the tank with rainwater. As for what happens when you flush the toilet—septic tank? I'm guessing, but that's why I hardly use it—I don't really want to find out how it works by it not working." The absolute last thing she needed was her treetop safe house being ruined by a sewage backup. Still, she was grateful for the bathroom because fumbling around after nightfall with flashlights behind trees had become old after just a few days.

"Gotcha." He nodded. Then, he dropped his knapsack onto the ground and slid his hands down into the pockets of pants she assumed were once khaki, but now were nearly unrecognizable due to stains and dirt.

"So, um, breakfast?" Kate asked as she walked back towards the kitchen area.

"Oh, um, I don't want to put you out. Really, you've been hospitable enough. If I could just trouble you for a bottle of water then-"

"Rick." She cut him off, not even considering his attempt to leave, especially after how sad she'd been when she thought he was gone. "Sit; we're having breakfast."

With a half-smile, he nodded and approached the small kitchen table. Instead of sitting, he watched her move towards the kitchen and begin her well-practiced routine of getting out the hot plate and pan and then retrieving their two breakfast items from the refrigerator, now barely cool after eight hours without solar power.

"Are those…eggs?"

At the amazement in his tone, Kate turned around and smiled at him. "They are."

He looked at the two eggs, then back at her, and then back at the eggs before stammering. "Bu-but how!?"

She laughed; he made it sound as though she'd discovered a revolutionary scientific achievement, but really it had just been luck. "Found some chickens in that neighborhood over there. I've been keeping them fed and watered and they give me about an egg a day. Yesterday it was two, so I guess they knew I'd be having a guest. Luckily," she paused to crack both eggs in the pan and place it on the hotplate, which she plugged into the single outlet in the wall, "today is a sunny day, so we should have just enough power to cook these."

Kate retrieved a fork from her supply of cutlery and stirred the eggs around in the pan so the yolk was well mixed. When she turned back to Rick, she took note of a peculiar expression on his face. He looked half amazed and half like he might be sick. "Are you okay?"

"Wha—I, oh yeah. I'm fine. Just trying not to be the forty-year-old man crying over an egg…"

She chuckled and stirred the eggs again. "Well, brace yourself because l have a few strawberries left too."

Kate heard the man sigh and pull out a chair at the table. "This is all…incredible, really. How did you find this place?"

She shrugged. "Luck. I was just wandering around and saw the rope ladder hanging down. I'm unbelievably fortunate because it's perfect. The ladder is the only way in and out—other than the balcony, obviously, but no zombie is going to be able to jump up on that. It's so high even a person would struggle."

"How…how do you suppose they got all this furniture in here?"

She chuckled and glanced over her shoulder at him; she had wondered the same thing, but ultimately decided not to question it. "No idea. The mystery of the treehouse, I guess."

Once the eggs had finished cooking, Kate divided them on to two plates and carried them to the table with the remaining strawberries and two bottles of water. Rick thanked her profusely before digging in and proclaiming it had been quite some time since he'd eaten something so delicious. Kate merely chuckled. "So, um, did you sleep okay on that couch?"

He nodded. "For a little while."

She hummed. "You're a little tall for it, I'd imagine," she said, knowing he was well over six feet since he towered several inches above her five-foot-ten frame.

He shook his head. "'s not that. I don't think my body knows how to relax enough to sleep anymore. I've been on alert for too long."

She nodded, having felt the same way when she'd arrived. "That is the one nice thing about this place; complete safety at night."

"The one nice thing? Because, Kate, I can think of at least half a dozen."

She laughed at his comment that was one hundred percent correct. When he smiled at her, her heart fluttered and she realized she couldn't remember the last time she'd had a light and pleasant interaction with another human. It may have been three or four months, sad as that was. That simple fact made her even more confident in her next statement.

"Listen, Rick, I, ah, kind of have a proposal for you."

Having finished his egg, he set down his fork and looked at her. "Oh?"

"Yes. There's some things I've wanted to do around here, but I need help because it's either a two person job or I'd prefer to have someone to watch my back as I did it. So, if you're interested, I'd like you to stay and help awhile. In exchange you can have food, water, and whatever else you need that I can give you."

For almost a full thirty seconds he was silent and then he quickly stammered out, "I-I are you sure? Because Kate that would be…I don't even think I can put it into words. I was dying out there—actually dying. I hadn't eaten in days and I had barely a quarter bottle of water left!"

She gave him a small smile. "So…is that a yes?"

He held on to the edge of the table as though to stop himself from literally leaping into the air. "Yes! Absolutely yes! Anything you need help with just say the word!"

She smiled at him. "Perfect! Let me clean up this stuff and then we'll get started."

"Okay, I have to ask—how in the world did this mess get here?" Rick asked once he and his companion had descended to ground level and hopped the line of rotting corpses.

"Oh. I did that. Thought it was a good defense. The smell keeps both the zombies and other humans away."

He nodded. "Smart. Gross, but smart."

"Thanks."

Her laughter filled response made Rick's heart flutter. Just about everything he learned about this incredible woman was making it harder and harder for him not to fall at her feet and promise to worship her for eternity; she was extraordinary.

It had taken all of his strength not to breakdown in tears multiple times over the prior half hour. First, at the prospect of a breakfast that did not consist of stale or scavenged food and secondly at the idea that he might not have to spend the next night outside, barely sleeping, just waiting to have his flesh punctured by rotting teeth. Kate's kindness had rendered him nearly speechless. She was giving him, a complete stranger, a reprieve without any prompting. Yes, she needed assistance, which he would gladly give to her, but the fact that she'd offered at all amazed him.

"So, just through these trees is the main house." Kate explained as they made their way through the wilderness. A thick row of evergreens stood in their way and, when she parted the branches, Rick stepped through and observed an expansive house with two wings and a lavish looking outdoor patio living space. Well, this certainly explained the origins high-end adult treehouse; the owners were clearly wealthy.

Before they'd left, Kate had told him the first thing she needed to do that morning was laundry so that her clothes would have time to dry in the heat of the day. When he'd expressed surprise in such a basic domestic task, she had explained that being unclean was not one of the concessions she was willing to make despite the apocalypse. It was bad enough, she said, that she could not clean herself and her clothes as frequently as she would like, but there always came a point when everything was quote, "way too gross." Having only rinsed his undergarments out a few times since leaving Manhattan, Rick could not say he entirely felt the same, but he did see her point.

When they reached the home's patio, Kate paused in front of the entrance to the home and pulled a key from her pocket. Rick couldn't help but laugh and said, "You have a key?"

She smiled at him over her shoulder as she unlocked the door. "Yeah. It was hidden under a really fake-looking rock over there. The house was locked up tight when I found it, so the inside was safe. Plenty of food, a little bit of water. Now I keep it locked so no one wanders though. I mean they could still break a window I guess, but then I'd see it and know."

"Sure." He agreed, following her inside. Immediately he grimaced. It was unpleasantly warm in the house leaving him to assume that unlike the treehouse, the main home did not have solar panels for power. Or, if they did, they did not produce enough electricity to run the air conditioning. A cool blast of air on a blistering summer day was undoubtedly one of the things Rick missed the most in the new world.

He followed Kate on her way back through the kitchen to a hall that led to a laundry room. There, she set down the duffle bag slung over her shoulder and began unloading garments into the large utility sink. "I can wash your clothes for you if you like." She informed him.

"Oh, um…" He hesitated. While that was a nice offer, it would leave him completely naked for the duration of their washing and drying period, which seemed problematic in case they were faced with a hoard of zombies like they had been the afternoon before.

As though she'd read his mind he said, "I'm guessing you don't have spare clothes. Check upstairs—whoever lived here left plenty behind and they might fit you."

"Oh. Great. Thanks." He swiftly pulled off his button down, t-shirt, and pants, leaving him just in boxer shorts. Before handing her the pants, he pulled the knife from the pocket and carried it with him as he ascended the stairs. Honestly, he felt more naked without the knife than without the clothes!

After searching the upstairs for a master suite, Rick discovered that Kate wasn't kidding when she said the owners left plenty of clothes behind. From the packed appearance of the closet, he didn't imagine they took much left them when they left.

The first item of clothing he selected was a clean pair of boxer shorts. Knowing his four month old ones were probably beyond salvaging, he tossed them into a trash can and then turned to the section of hanging pants. Unfortunately, the man who owned the home was several inches shorter than Rick, meaning the pants only fell to just above his ankles, but with a belt the waist fit good enough, so he took a pair of jeans in addition to the khakis he put on knowing having too short pants was better than having no spare pants at all.

After snagging a t-shirt and button down, Rick wandered across the bedroom into the en suite bathroom. There, he caught his first glimpse of himself in a proper mirror in months and he had to admit to being alarmed. As he preferred to be clean shaven most of the time, he'd barely ever acquired more than a few days' stubble in his lifetime and certainly not the level of beard he had presently. In addition to the hair on his head being longer, he could plainly see just how much weight he'd lost due to a lack of consistent food. He was down forty pounds or more from his regular weight, he guessed.

Shaking off that alarming thought, Rick began opening the drawers and cabinets in the bathroom until he found a pair of scissors and a razor. On instinct, he reached out for the faucet tap and turned the handle. When nothing happened, he stared at it for fifteen seconds before saying aloud, "Oops! Duh, idiot; no running water in the apocalypse!" Fortunately, he was able to find a bottle of shaving cream in the shower. It was women's, presumably for shaving legs, but it would work well enough for his purposes. After grabbing a towel he placed his equipment on the counter and set to work transforming himself back into the Richard Castle he was familiar with.

"Were you able to find—oh!" Kate gasped when a completely different looking man walked into the laundry room. His hair was cut much shorter than it had been half an hour earlier and his beard was completely gone. He was hardly recognizable as the man she'd rescued from a hoard of zombies not twenty-four hours earlier. Yet, at the same time, his face now struck her as even more familiar. She had seen him before, she was sure of it, but how? Where? Perhaps, she thought, as her eyes scanned his face, he had been a witness in one of her cases interviewed by her colleagues, which would explain her recognition of him.

"Yeah, I, ah, found a razor," he said, skimming his hand over his now smooth jawline.

"I can see that. And the clothes fit you?"

"Yeah, um, but they're a little…short."

Kate let out a blip of laughter when she tore her gaze from his face, skimmed it down his body and discovered his protruding ankles. The vision was quite comical, as she didn't know too many forty-year-old men who wore cropped pants.

"Don't laugh at me!"

"Sorry!" she responded, fighting to straighten her smile. "It doesn't look that bad. Maybe one of the other houses on this street will have longer pants."

"Have you been in all of them?"

"Only the five in this cul-de-sac. There's another cul-de-sac down the way, but I never bothered to go that far; these five had more than enough food. Though, now that you're here, we'll probably want to check."

She detected a small amount of pink in his cheeks when he said, "Sorry; I promise I won't eat as much as I did last night."

She tiled her head to the side and gave him a sad expression. How horrible that he was apologizing for eating when he had been quite clearly starved when he arrived. "Rick, it's fine; don't even worry about it. I still have plenty of food—even for two people."

After he'd nodded in acknowledgement, Kate turned back to the sink where she was rinsing out her final two t-shirts. "I'm almost done here. Just need to hang these up and then we'll go check on the chickens."

"I can help hang. Is there a wash line outside?"

"Ah, no; it's in the dining room," she said. Then, when his brow wrinkled, she explained further, "I didn't want the clothes to hang outside just in case someone passed through. It would make it obvious someone was living here-"

"-and they could try and take what you have," he finished for her. "Believe me; I understand." Considering the state he'd been in when he arrived, she imagined he did.

After handing Rick half her pile of wet laundry, she led the way to the dining room explaining that she'd chosen it because of its excess of pictures hanging on the wall. With the pictures removed, the picture hangers were easily used to string lines to hold wash. Rick congratulated her on her ingenuity as they began placing items at opposite ends of the first line.

"Oh, um."

At Rick's awkward throat clearing, Kate looked up to see that he held a pair of green cotton panties pinched between his index finger and thumb. Glancing at her he asked, "Should I…stop helping?"

"Why?" she responded. He looked at the underwear and then up at her pointedly. She chuckled. "It's fine, Rick. We're both adults, right? Besides, if we're going to be living together for a little while, this probably is not going to be the first time you see my underwea—oh." Kate abruptly stopped speaking when she heard the words she was speaking aloud and realized how heavily they implied something of a sexual nature.

Rick tossed the panties over the wash line and looked at her, amused. "You just realized how that sounded, didn't you?"

Now her cheeks were the ones turning pink. "Yep. Shit! I didn't mean-"

"I know you didn't; it's fine."

When their eyes met, the both burst out laughing before turning back to the task at hand.

Shaking her head, Kate folded a t-shirt gently over the line. Way to make it awkward, idiot, she chastised herself. Truth be told, she honestly hadn't thought about sex since the onset of the virus in January. She hadn't been seeing anyone at the time—not that it mattered; almost everyone who could bolted from the city as quickly as possible. As a cop, she needed to remain behind and did so until it became clear organized resistance was futile and it was everyone for themselves. Since then, she'd been too focused on survival and staying away from other humans (both live and undead). Rick was the first man she'd spoken to in months and while she expected to appreciate both his company and assistance, something sexual was not anywhere near the top of her list of priorities at that time.

"Can I make an observation?"

She glanced up at him and found he'd moved on to the second wash line to hang up his pants and shirt. "Hmm?"

"You haven't asked me who I was or what I did before all this."

"Oh. Yeah. I mean, does any of that even matter anymore?" If he was going to be staying with her for a week or so, odds are she would have gotten around to asking him eventually, or the subject would have naturally come up. It wasn't as though they could sit around and watch television or movies in the evening; talking or reading would be their only forms of entertainment. Even still, she didn't see the point. Other than doctors, whose knowledge clearly had continued relevance, what did it matter if he was a lawyer, an accountant, or a stock trader? The apocalypse had fairly easily leveled the playing field; they were all just trying to survive now.

Rick stopped hanging, ducked under the wash line, and approached her. "Who we are always matters; it's part of the story. Take you for instance: single woman, badass as hell, and great shot with a weapon. You could be a hunter or a farm girl, but you also kind of have a city vibe, so I'm guessing former military?"

She let out a breathy laugh. "NYPD. Detective, specifically, but that was a pretty impressive guess."

He nodded to her. "Thank you; it's part of my nature. I was a writer."

Her brow rose. Ah, a writer! Now his familiarity seemed more relevant. Perhaps she'd seen his picture by a byline in the Post or Ledger. "What'd you write?"

"Mystery novels."

Well, she'd read her fair share of those, but she was certainly more familiar with last names than first insofar as authors went, so she asked, "Anything I've ever heard of?"

"Maybe. I write under Richard Ca-"

"Castle!" She cut him off with a gasp. Oh! Richard Castle! She laughed and shook her head. That's why he seemed so familiar. Of course! Clearly the beard had thrown her off at first, but his face was also so thin—as was hers, she imagined. Lack of consistent nutrition would do that to a person.

The man's brow rose in shock. "You've heard of me?"

"Of course! I've read your books! Actually, we've even met before—I, ah, I had one of them signed a few years ago." She brushed a strand of hair back behind her ear, feeling slightly embarrassed at that confession.

The writer laughed. "You're kidding!"

She hummed. "Nope. Must be…gosh, five or six years ago now. Time flies, you know…"

"Fascinating…"

Kate chuckled as she turned back to finish her hanging. She wasn't sure fascinating was the right term, but it was certainly interesting. Who knew the world could still be such a small place even after it ended?

"So…detective, huh? What division?"

"Homicide."

"Oh. Wow. So you used to save the citizens of New York and now you save poor tragic wanderers like me."

Kate laughed at his bizarre description. "I think you're romanticizing that a bit too much."

"Hello!" he said, pointing to himself. "Mystery writer! That's my job. Well, it was, anyway. So are we going to go see the chickens now?"

Tossing the last pair of underwear over the wash line, Kate gazed curiously at her companion. He made going to check on the trio of hens sound as though it were a trip to Disney World. "Are you always this excitable?" she asked, cautiously.

"When I have food and something to look forward to that's not wandering around in circles in the miserable heat? Yes."

She nodded. "Just checking." Okay, so if Rick was going to be her companion over the next several days, she couldn't say she was disappointed to see he wouldn't be downtrodden and depressed; that would have been unpleasant to deal with. However, overly chipper was unexpectedly on the opposite end of the spectrum, yet could be equally as annoying. Then again, when faced with the alternative of no human interaction, there could be worst qualities than an upbeat demeanor.

"Hey, uh, you never told me your last name." The writer pointed out as they made their way towards the exit.

"It's Beckett."

He grinned at her. "Detective Kate Beckett; it's nice to officially meet you."