Just an idea I've been toying with for a while now... Some of this may be similar to what I included in my other fic called Convalescence, but this will go much more in depth and have letters from January 9, 1999 to the season six finale and perhaps beyond that. It will stay true to the show to the best of my ability, and if you see anything that's off, feel free to tell me.

My goal is to post one letter every week at the time when Castle normally would air (U.S. west coast time).

Warning: To those of you who have lost loved ones, this story may be hard for you to read.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters. This work is for entertainment purposes only, and no copyright infringement is intended.

Prologue

"Here we are," her father said, pressing in the parking brake with one foot. Kate stared eagerly out the window at the brick building with large glass windows stretching across its entire front. She exited the passenger side still staring up at it, remembering all the various times they had come here, to this restaurant. Birthdays, graduations—it was her family's favorite.

Jim led the way inside, wading his way through the throng of people waiting and leaving an open path for her to squeeze through. "We have a reservation," he told the woman at the front.

"Name?" she asked cheerily.

"Beckett, party of three," he answered patiently.

"Yes, right this way, sir," the woman said, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of her nose. She looked to be nineteen or twenty—around Kate's own age. Kate was an honors pre-law student at Stanford University in California on Winter Break, and she wondered if this young woman was only working reception in a restaurant until school was back in session for her as well. "Your waiter will be right with you," she informed them, handing over their menus. Her dad thanked her and sat down across from Kate in a booth with plush, burgundy cushions that squeaked slightly when they moved.

"Mom's going to meet us here, right?" Kate asked as she opened her menu.

"Yeah, but why don't you give her a call?" Jim suggested. "She said she'd probably get there before us, but you know how she is when she's working on a particularly consuming case." Kate followed his instruction but only got her mom's voicemail, as if her phone was turned off. They waited for another ten minutes, telling their waitress they weren't ready yet twice before her father finally decided, "I guess we should start without her," and closed his menu. "You know what you want, Katie?"

"Yeah, Dad," she replied.

"Okay, I'll order for your mom. She should be here soon. She's been late before, but I've never known your mom to miss a family dinner."

Kate nodded her agreement. The waitress spotted them and, with the same cheery expression as the first, held out her notepad with her pen at the ready. "Ready to order? Okay, what can I get you?"

"I'll have the eight ounce ribeye with garlic mashed potatoes and home-style green beans," he requested. "We're still waiting on my wife, but she should be here soon. She'll have the small chicken pot pie."

"And I'll have the steak as well," Kate smiled.

"Okay! I'll get that to you as soon as possible," the waitress said, collecting their menus.

Two hours later, both their plates were scraped clean and Johanna still hadn't arrived. Jim checked his watch nervously. "I guess we should just take this to go," he said, indicating the untouched pot pie. He informed the waitress and she returned with a large Styrofoam container and a paper bag. Kate and Jim exited the restaurant together, and goosebumps appeared on Kate's arms as a chill wind swept through the street. She pulled her jacket just a little tighter around her body as they headed for the car.

There was just a bit of snow on the ground, just enough to create sludge and make the roads dangerous without the pretty white crystalline look. As her father drove, Kate tried her mom's cell for the fifth time that night, but there was no answer.

"She's just working," Jim repeated, as much to himself as his daughter. They arrived at the house a few minutes later. It was a white building with blue curtains on the windows and a few well-pruned shrubs outlining the small front lawn.

"That's odd," Kate commented, pointing to the police car out front. "Usually don't see those much around here."

"Katie," Jim said as a warning. She looked up to see a man standing at their door. he seemed to be waiting for them. "Can I help you?" Jim asked, approaching cautiously. Kate stayed behind him but went up the front walk as well.

"Are you Jim Beckett?" the man asked, holding up his police badge. "Detective Raglan, NYPD." If Kate had had to guess, she would've said the man looked extremely uncomfortable. Nervous wasn't quite right, but the officer was definitely troubled by something.

"Yes, I am," her father replied. "What's this regarding?"

"Perhaps this would be a conversation better suited for inside," the detective suggested.

"What's going on?" her father demanded, the courtroom lawyer part of him making an appearance. Kate's heart pounded in her chest.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but they found your wife's body earlier this afternoon in Washington Heights."

"Her…her body?" Kate's voice cracked. Her mind whirled.

Jim just stared at the detective for a moment and then unlocked the door. "You'd better come in." Her dad unlocked the door with his key, and Kate noticed his hands were shaking. Hers shook as well.

January 9, 1999

Dear Mom,

They say you're gone, but I keep expecting you to walk through that door. I think Dad does too, because he keeps turning at every noise and looking at it.

I'm sitting on your bed writing this letter to you because Dad and Detective Raglan are still talking in the living room. I had to leave; I couldn't stay in their company while the police explained the details of your death. Someday I'll want them, need them, but not right now. I keep thinking they've made a mistake, that it's not really you they've found. I keep thinking I'll see you tonight, and if not tonight, tomorrow. This feels like one of your business trips when your flight home has been delayed. If I just fall asleep, no more than a second will pass before you touch my cheek, waking me so I can welcome you home.

But if it is real, if you really are gone, then I don't know what I will do. You were always there for me, Mom, whenever I needed you. Now I need you more than ever and you're gone. You and Dad are all I know. I thought you would always be here to come back to, forever. I guess I was wrong.

I can't believe that just two weeks ago we were all staying in the cabin in the woods together, eating ham and cookies and other Christmas foods. The decorations are still up, but no one seems to care. They look lonely to me. Abandoned.

Mom, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry we didn't have more time together. I'm sorry I spent that semester in Kiev and missed your birthday and Easter and planting season last year. I'm sorry I chose a school so far away. I'm sorry I didn't make time to talk with you on the phone last weekend. I would give anything for us to have a conversation now. I'm so sorry, Mom.

Please come back. I know it's impossible, but please try. I'm not ready for you to leave me. I'm not ready to say goodbye.

Love,

Kate

Thoughts?

The next letters will be completely new and not featured in Convalescence. I would love to hear your feedback!