A/N: Thank you again to everyone who continues to support this story. I am so thankful for each and every one of you. As promised, this chapter switches to Castle's POV. Hold on tight.

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle nor do I claim ownership over anything associated with the show.

My Savior

"Sometimes it takes a heartbreak to shake us awake,

And help us see we are worth,

So much more than we're settling for."

-Mandy Hale

The soft morning light filters in through the window, casting shadows around the darkness of the bedroom. Castle grunts when the light hits his face, pulling the sheet up and over his head in an attempt to block it out. He has no idea what time it is and frankly he doesn't care. He closes his eyes, intent on going back to sleep for possibly the rest of the day, but then his stomach grumbles loudly, reminding him that it's been well over a day since he's had anything to eat. He huffs, grabbing both the sheet and comforter in one hand and throwing them back as he stumbles out of the bed.

He trudges to the bathroom, relieving himself and then throwing on his blue robe. He pauses in front of the mirror, rubbing his hand over the stubble that's forming on his unshaven jaw. He looks like hell, feels like it too. He roughly shuts off the light and heads to find something to eat.

As he passes through his office, he can't help but stare at his desk. Kate's letters—yes letters, as in more than one, because not only is she writing to him, she's sent him three letters. They lie unopened in the middle of his desk. The edges of the first one are slightly worn where he's held it in his hands, started to open it before changing his mind. In fact, the seal is completely broken and he'd only need to slide the letter out to read it. He shakes his head and continues on his journey to the kitchen. Now isn't the right time to read them, and he's not sure when that's going to change.

If he's being honest, nothing sounds appealing, and if he didn't need to eat to live he'd skip it all together. He searches through the fridge first but there aren't any left-overs to heat up because there have been no meals to put away. He's been alone in the loft since right after their fight, claiming he needed some time to think over things. He's grateful that his family understands.

He's had fights with women before, fights with his ex-wives, but none of those fights compare to this one because none of those women ever meant as much to him as Kate. She's the only person who's ever held the power to completely wreck him. He's consumed with her, so much of her wrapped and weaved into who he is, who he wants to be, for her. And as much as he's wanted to go to her over these few weeks, to fix things and keep her in his life, this isn't his mess to fix because if he's not enough for her now, he probably never will be. He's not the one who made a decision that would make or break them without even discussing it first.

He's already forgiven her once for shutting him out, and he let her back into his life—his heart, that night she showed up soaking wet at his door. She put in the work to fix things, opened herself up to him in ways she never had before. It's not enough though, not this time. She's backtracking, shutting herself away and he doesn't know why. There's still too much of her that he doesn't know, too much that she's unwilling to share with him. If she's still hiding parts of herself from him, how can he trust her? How can he be in a fully committed relationship with her? How can they even try to move towards a future together if she won't give all of herself to him? That's why they're in the predicament they are now, because they don't discuss things. He's tired of pushing. There comes a time when pushing is both too much and not enough. She needs to be willing to let him know all of her without being pushed to do so.

He pilfers through a few cabinets before silently scolding himself for not being better stocked on quick food choices. He grabs his phone off the counter where it's been sitting since the night he came home from the fight and threw it there. He doesn't remember plugging it in to the charger but as he detaches the white cord from the end he realizes most of that day is a blur. He calls in his usual at the Chinese restaurant and then calls downstairs to ask if they can bring his mail up. He's not usually this demanding but the thought of leaving his loft for any reason is completely unappealing right now.

The attendant from the lobby brings his mail up only minutes before his food arrives. He thanks both men for the deliveries and carries his food along with his mail back to his bedroom, his sanctuary. As he climbs onto the mattress, the lingering scent of her floods his senses and he has to close his eyes. He's wanted to change the sheets so many times, to let the anger of what she did burn through him, but he hasn't been able to. As much as he wants to let the anger rule him, he can't strip her out of his mind or his life, even if he wanted to.

He sets the food beside him on the mattress and quickly looks through the mail; he recognizes the corner of one particular envelope before he ever touches it. He reaches for it, carefully lifting the piece of mail until her elegant script stares back at him. This makes four. She's written him four letters and he can't help but wonder how many more will come. She's never written to him before, always claiming that words are his expertise, but maybe this will be the thing that fixes them. Maybe these letters are the words that have been missing from their relationship. There's only one way to find out.

He ignores the protest of his stomach as he leaves the food behind on his bed and walks quickly into his office. He grabs her other letters as he sits down at his desk, carefully laying them out beside each other in front of him in the order that they'd arrived. His heart aches as he slides the first folded piece of paper out of its envelope and opens it, but it's nothing compared to the depths of her heart that he's about to witness.

The first letter makes him angry because as much as he hates that she had to lose her mother in such a cruel way, he already knows that story and it's kind of a bullshit move to use it against him right now. But there's a tone to her words that speaks to his heart and, while he's heard the story of losing her mother many times before, it's almost as if he's hearing it for the first time now. He's seen the pain from the outside, witnessed what it's done to her, but now that he's reading her words he sees a whole new side of it. He's feeling what she feels on the inside and his heart aches for her.

Her second letter tears him up more than the first. He knows that her dad struggled with alcohol because she's told him a little about it. She's hinted at the strain it put on their relationship but she's never told him anything close to what she's written to him. He never realized that during the time of her father's drinking she lost not one but both parents. He wishes that he'd known her back then so that he could have been there for her when no one else was.

Probably the hardest part to read, the part that has him wanting to go to wrap her in his arms, is her admission that she started to turn to alcohol as well. He speeds through the letter, wanting more than anything for her to tell him that she's okay. When she promises him that she won't use alcohol as a crutch for her pain he sighs in relief. He's still mad and the letters don't change what she did, but he'd never want her to turn to something like that. He doesn't want her to hurt even if he can't be with her anymore.

Her third letter takes him by surprise, and his heart threatens to burst out of his chest. It's no secret to him that she loved Royce, but to hear her explain everything he was to her has Castle struggling to read the rest. But in the midst of her admission and her pain of letting go of her mentor, she somehow finds a way to reassure him that he's the only man she wants in her future. And he starts to wonder if she knows how beautiful her writing really is. He knows that these are parts of her that she's never shared with anyone, not just because she admits that to him, but because he can sense it in the way she writes. This is her heart—every part of it, carefully spelled out onto paper, and it's all for him.

Finally, he picks up the letter that just arrived. He holds the paper in his hands, wondering what she might have been thinking as she folded it and placed it into the envelope. Is she expecting him to write back to her? Does she want him to call her? He's not sure because she hasn't asked for either of those things, but asking for what she wants isn't something that seems to be easy for Kate to do when it comes to him. She's making an effort, so it has to mean that she's still in it, but it doesn't solve anything for them. He still wants her more than anything else, but does she want the same? Are her words enough to prove that?

Castle,

It doesn't happen very often anymore. In fact, it's been happening less and less since that stormy night when I showed up at your door almost a year ago. I used to think it was because I was finally putting some distance between myself and that day in the cemetery. I realize now that there's much more to it than that. You brought me back from the brink of blackness, Castle. You pulled me out of that darkness.

Each time the memory of that day would pull me under you were there to pull me back. The warmth of your body, the strength of your arms and the endless depths of your love, they all molded together, forming a protective barrier around me. And every time it threatened to return, I beat it—because of you.

Tonight was different, when the memories of that day reached for me, the darkness clawing at me from every angle, there was no one to pull me back. The force of the bullet as it entered my chest and the pain of the scar, it all seared to life again, bringing me back to that day. I woke in a panic, clutching at my chest and gasping for air as my scar burned beneath my fingers.

For the first time in a year, there were no strong arms to hold me, no warm body to curl against. You weren't there to whisper love into my ear until the sound of your voice was all I could focus on. Tonight I had to fight on my own and the emptiness that followed was something that I don't want to ever experience again. I'm sorry, Castle. I'm sorry that I chose to do things on my own; shutting you out was never the right answer.

I thought that they would eventually go away, but the sleep I wanted never came. Instead, other nightmares came and I was plunged back into that night in the hangar. The night that you dragged me away from a fate that was licking at my heels. I struggled to gain control of myself the next time I woke up, which brings to me now. Writing to you is the only thing that's keeping me from breaking down.

The night that Captain Montgomery gave his life for me, I experienced the meaning of a true sacrifice. I was struggling at the time, trying to fathom how someone that I respected so much could have been involved in my mother's murder. I didn't really have time to get any answers from him, to understand why so many people that I've trusted were involved in the worst event of my life.

He chose to make a stand, to take responsibility for his involvement and take the bullet that was meant for me. They wanted me and Montgomery took them all out at the same time that he gave them his life in place of mine.

It's never something that I would have asked for. I don't care how much of it was his fault, I still to this day consider him a good man. He was my friend, my confidant, and he remained that until he took his last breath.

When you carried me out of that hangar, I hated you for it. I was so far down the rabbit hole, so committed to putting an end to it all, and I didn't want anyone to interfere with it. I wanted answers and I was prepared to run at them head on. I didn't want anyone to give their life for me; I wanted to face them myself.

While you held me against that car I knew that I was letting go of yet another person in my life. I knew that when I walked back into that hangar my life was going to be changed. I was losing myself. In spite of my protests and pleas you held me, and somehow the warm weight of your body anchored me.

I can still hear the piercing sounds of the gun shots to this day. The sound finalized what I already knew had transpired. I remember pushing away from you, desperate to get to Montgomery, to hold on to him. When I saw his body riddled with gunshot wounds I felt them as keenly as if it was my own body lying there. I never realized how accurate that pain was until I experienced the real thing.

Castle, how many times can I be forced to let go of someone before I just can't handle it anymore? There has to be a limit, a point when the universe says 'okay, she's had enough.' There's only so much that one person can take. The only silver lining I can find right now is that I've learned an important lesson. I don't ever want to let go of you, neither by choice nor by force. That would be the final straw—my breaking point.

Montgomery saved my life. And as my fourth letter comes to an end, you have to know that there's another person who's saved my life more times than I can count. You. I will forever be thankful that even when I wanted nothing to do with you, Montgomery forced me to keep you around. He knew what you would be to me.

Thank you for never giving up on me, for pursuing me and sticking around even when I pushed you away. I'm not an easy person to get to know, but you do know me, Castle. You know me better than anyone else and I hope that by reading these letters you feel like you know all of me. I'm sorry that it took me so long to tell you these things. I guess a part of me is always scared that at some point my darkness and baggage will be too much.

I'm scared. Scared that in spite of everything we've overcome, this will be the thing that breaks us. I said before that there's only so much a person can take, but I never stopped to think about how much you can take. Have I pushed you too far?

-Always, Kate.

He stares at her words for who knows how long, mulling them over. Has she pushed him too far? Can he forgive her and push past this? Are they going to be able to make things work or are they just kidding themselves? Maybe enough is enough. He misses her, but is missing someone enough to forgive them for shutting you out?

He needs time to process, to think over the things that she's shared with him. It feels sincere and he knows deep down that she's not using her pain as an excuse. If she's willing to let him see parts of her that no one else ever has, then he's finally demolished that wall she's been holding on to.

As he folds the letter and places it back in its envelope, he pushes away from the desk and he can't help but think that this time it might be too late.

Thank you to Bri, for the beta, brainstorming and encouragement. Xoxo.

Would love to hear your thoughts. xo