Author's Notes: Four reviews, fifteen favorites/author alerts, and unsolicited editing assistance from a dear friend who turned me onto Castle about a year and a half ago, and here I am again. Thank you to all who read my drivel and to all who take the time to weigh in on the musings of my twisted brain. The encouragement helps me attempt this. Love to see what you all think.

I have always been interested in what we don't see, and what the thoughts of our intrepid heroes are when we see a facial expression. This is the result.

One of these days, I will write something with actual dialogue. It has been a while. Give me time to stretch the writing muscles.

Spoilers: Up to and including 4x23, "Always."

Disclaimer: Don't own anything. Not making any money. Leave me alone.

"Hey, you're not in this alone. I'm here."

"Well, I guess there's just nothing I can say, is there? OK, um…yeah, you're right, Kate. It's your life. You can throw it away if you want, but I'm not going to stick around and watch you. So, this is, uh… over. I'm done."

Kate Beckett sat on the floor of her apartment, legs crumpled beneath her. A small cardboard box lay open in front of her. It had been years since she had looked inside. She knew she had tried to organize the contents, tried to make sense and impose an order on the chaos within, but she had never been able to bring structure to it. She gave up about four years ago.

Four years ago.

She dipped her hand inside, brought up a plastic jewel case without a cover. Inside, she saw the dull sheen of the blank CD, the faded colors of the Sharpie marker shining up at her. She stood shakily, crossed the room to her stereo, and placed the disc inside. Slowly, the swells of the music reached her ears. She didn't remember where she found this particular version, but she knew it had always calmed her rattled nerves, forced her to focus, and brought order to her turbulent mind.

As the triplets of the Adagio Sostenuto filled the room, she closed her eyes. She knew the history of the piece as well as the effect it had on her. Dedicated in 1802 to his then pupil, Giulietta Guicciardi, the piece quickly became known as the "Moonlight Sonata" when, five years after Beethoven's death, a German critic likened it to moonlight shining upon Lake Lucerne.

Kate didn't know how to quantify it, how to neatly describe it, how to explain the effect it had on her. In her life, she always looked deeper. Always looked behind the scenes. Always looked beneath the surface. There was always an explanation, a motive, a single piece that, when discovered, unlocked the entire mystery.

And now? She had an answer to two of the biggest mysteries of her recent years on Earth. One, why she wasn't finished off after she took a bullet to the heart in the cemetery, and two, why Castle had been acting strangely for the past month.

Castle. He was at the heart of both of those mysteries. How he could be simultaneously the reason for her very existence, and yet, keep her from moving forward with her life made no sense to her. Logic escaped his actions.

Kate sat back down on the floor, reached into the box, and pulled out a stack of photos. As she slowly moved through them, the tears began to prick at the corners of her eyes. A family photo of her, her dad and mom sitting at a picnic table in Central Park. Kate's hair was braided in pigtails, and her toothy smile belied the steely glint in her eyes. She was no more than six years old. Her mother stood over her, hand on her shoulder as if to say, I am here if you need me, sweetheart. Her dad was kneeling in front of her, finishing up the last bow of her laces on her fluorescent roller skates. His smile seemed to say, Now, Johanna, she'll be fine.

Then, a picture of her with her fingertips to her mouth, which was slightly opened in shock and in happiness. The letterhead at the top of the piece of paper she was holding was unclear, but Kate knew the Stanford colors all too well. Her dad had hidden around the corner when she got the letter and waited there for her to open it. She recalled that she had phoned her mother immediately after opening it, and her mother had come directly home to celebrate. They had gone to a new restaurant that night, and she remembered the smells, the sights, and the sounds of the small, cozy eatery. She couldn't recall anything about it when they waited for three hours for her mother on The Night Everything Changed.

A picture of her striding confidently across the stage, her dress blues neatly creased and perfectly tailored. She was walking up to the Chief, whose hand was outstretched towards her, her plaque in his other hand. The flags were draped across the backdrop of the auditorium, proclaiming their congratulations to the graduating class of that year. She seemed larger than life in that picture, her hair wound in a tight bun under her cap, her eyes set on the man holding the key to the beginning of her quest for The Truth.

The truth. What did that even mean, anyway? She had her colleagues, sure. But, she no longer had Castle to share the knowing glances with, the small, imperceptible nod of his head when she needed to take a step back, take a deep breath, and reassess her approach to the case. Ultimately, Castle would not be at her side when she finally found The Answer, the reason for it all.

The music swelled around her as she moved through the photos, one by one. She couldn't help but hear him as each photo brought back a forgotten memory.

Oh, wow…You were into Nirvana? I can just see you writing 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' on your Trapper Keeper for hours in Algebra class.

Beckett, you didn't tell me you dyed your hair that particular shade of green. Was this Grunge Boy's doing? Tell me you had matching flannel t-shirts that smelled like cloves.

I had no idea you attended a single football game, let alone painted your face the proud colors of the Cardinal. Did you join the band in their singular mocking of your opponents?

Awwww, I don't get to see you chasing down the runner at third base?

As the silent tears began to fall, she dropped each photo on the floor one at a time. Another memory, another chance at truly sharing her life with someone slipped through her fingers.

When he had spoken earlier, she almost broke. She almost gave in.

"Every morning, I bring you a cup of coffee just so I can see a smile on your face. Because I think you are the most remarkable, maddening, challenging, frustrating person I have ever met."

She couldn't admit it to herself before now. She couldn't conceive of the idea. This was Richard Castle, of all people. King of Page Six. The White Whale. The Bad Boy of Fiction. She couldn't fathom doing her job before he came along, but, to think that he…after all this time? Why would he choose to tell her now?

She smiled humorlessly. This was his excuse, his deflection, his way of justifying what he had done. He had rocked her to her core, and she didn't know what she could believe in anymore. She thought she was working on herself so she could bring The Wall down and finally have a shot at something real. Will, Demming, Josh…they filled space. Castle brought fun to her life. He had charmed his way in and had brought a fresh look at the world, an unbridled joy for the simple pleasures.

She closed her eyes tightly, but the look on his face and the raw emotion of his words haunted her. She had ashes in her mouth. His words, the very things that had saved her all those years ago, stung her bitterly. He left. He had given up. He had promised her that he would stand with her, but when she wanted him by her side, he had chosen to walk away. His words had left her pummeled and bruised with their simplicity, with their honesty.

She looked down into the box, saw the yellowing envelope inside, the fading scrawl of a fountain pen on the cover, and she sensed that even though she knew it by heart, she was going to read it again.

My Dearest Katie,

I know you will never admit it, but I know you are both excited and nervous to begin the next phase of your life.

If you are thinking that this is too far, too much of a leap, and that Dad and I will miss you too much…stop. If you are thinking that you are leaving behind all that you know and everything you have become…stop. Your experiences, the qualities that make you the wonderful young woman you are will always be with you. We have tried our best to help you, to guide you, to gently nudge you in the right direction to get you to this very moment. Now you get to decide who and what to bring into your life.

Drink deeply of the world, Katie. Try everything, question everything, and above all else, find joy in the people you meet. Some people will frustrate you, others will disappoint you. Some will make you laugh until your sides hurt, one will make you smile like no one else has before or ever will.

And, if you ever find yourself questioning your decisions or feeling the pangs of regret, think about the choices you made that brought you to the particular moment, and allow yourself to look inward and be completely honest with yourself. As long as you are moving forward, your heart open to the world and the people in it, you will always find your way home. Always.

I am so proud of you, Katie. I love you.

- Mom

Kate glanced up, her fingers slowly tracing the strokes of the letters on the paper. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks now, and her heart raced in her chest.

She had failed.

Failed her mother. In more ways than one.

She couldn't fulfill her mother's wishes. Not until she knew The Answer. And it was so close. She knew what her shooter looked like, what his name was. She was closing in on him, and Castle had unwittingly strengthened her resolve. She was going to find her shooter. And she was going to make him tell her who He was.

She stood, the last of the photos falling from her lap and across the floor. Time to put away the memories. Time to close the book on this chapter of her life, with or without Castle at her side.

She owed her mother that much.

A/N: Shall we see what the Angst Faeries have in store for a certain Richard Castle?