A/N: Patience is a virtue. :) Thank you for your continued support. Your reviews, favorites and follows mean the world to me. I originally intended for this to only be about 8 chapters, but after sitting down and plotting things out, it should end up being about 14 when I wrap it up. I hope you'll stick with me until then!

Disclaimer: I still own no part of Castle.

Who Am I

"Sometimes the hardest part isn't learning to let go,

But rather learning to start over."

-Nicole Sobon

Castle has just walked back into the loft with Kate's fifth letter in hand when his phone starts to ring. He hurries to where it rests on the counter, groaning when he sees The Old Haunt's number on the screen. He tried every trick in the book to get out of his meeting with Black Pawn this morning, but to no avail. He's really in no mood to deal with anything or anyone else. He grabs the phone, roughly swiping the 'answer call' button and bringing it to his ear.

"Castle."

"Mr. Castle, I'm so sorry to bother you, but I've come down with the flu and there's just no way that I can work tonight." The scruffy voice of his bar tender matches the reason he's just given for not being able to work.

Damn it.

"It's okay, Brian, I understand. Take it easy and focus on getting better."

"Thank you, Mr. Castle."

The Old Haunt doesn't open for a several more hours, but it's too short notice to call in anyone else. He's going to have to fill in for Brian himself and try to find someone else to work his shifts for the rest of the week. He leaves Kate's letter on the counter and searches for something to eat. There's no point in trying to read it now; if it's anything like the last four that she's sent him, he'll need time to process after he reads it.

He's ready to walk out to door when he sees her letter still lying on the counter. He tucks it into the inside pocket of his coat, hoping he'll be able to find time to read it soon.

That quickly turns out to be wishful thinking.

He should be happy that The Old Haunt is packed, after all, he owns the place and busy means that it's doing well. He'd be thrilled if not for the letter that's currently burning a hole in his pocket. Even though it's probably a bad idea, he's tried to sneak and read it several times, but people continue to flood into the pub and he's forced to tuck it away and forget about it.

It's late when the final couple stumbles out the door, hanging all over each other and giddy with love. Castle cringes as he watches the door shut behind them, but more than that he envies them, because not too long ago, that could have been him and Kate, and now it might never be them again.

He locks up and cleans the bar area before taking the cash drawer and reports down to the safe in his office. He fully intended to go home, get some food and read Kate's letter, but the bottle of scotch on his desk catches his eye. He's never been one to drown his sorrows in the bottle, but the thought of the rich liquid sliding down his throat, temporarily burning away the memories, sends him stumbling towards the bottle.

The first swallow brings the pleasure he's seeking and before he can change his mind, he's unconsciously finished the entire bottle. The sound of the empty glass making contact against his desk snaps some clarity into him. He glances around his office, listening as the silence seems to scream around him.

God, he misses her.

He's not sober enough to read her letter, he shouldn't be pulling it out of his pocket right now, but suddenly it's in his hands and unfolded. Her words seem to glare at him. This letter has a different tone to it, he can tell as soon as he reads his name carefully scripted at the top of the paper. It looks different from all the other ways she's written his name, and he knows that it's not the alcohol making him see it differently.

The 'c' looks a little messier than usual, like maybe her hand was shaking when she pressed the pen to the paper. There's a little more ink on the 'e' making it significantly darker than the other letters. It's as if she lingered there, keeping the pen pressed to his name long after she'd finished writing it. There's more emotion in these words than any of the others, he can feel it just as much as he can see it. It radiates off the paper and seeps through his fingertips into his heart.

Castle,

I never noticed it before. Deep down I knew it was true, but I never actually saw what everyone else was seeing until now. Our picture, the one that Alexis snapped of us at Christmas, is on the shelf in my living room. We look so happy, so in love and so focused on each other that no one else seemed to exist. Right beside that picture is one of me and my dad. I think it was taken the summer after my mom was murdered.

I wish you could see them side by side, Castle. I look like a completely different person in the picture with my dad and that's because—well, because I was a different person. For the longest time all I could do was stand here and stare at them. I don't even know who that person is anymore, because the truth is, that person no longer exists. But it's not a bad thing, not when the reason for who I am now is so important to me.

I've never told anyone this before, Castle, although I'm sure that the people who were around me could see. This is by far the hardest letter I've written to you, because letting go of other people is one thing, but letting go of myself was something completely different. How many people do you know that have completely let go of who they are at some point in their life?

It started after mom was murdered and escalated into a downward spiral after that. I was a mother-less nineteen year old with a drunk for a father. Everything that I had ever wanted suddenly became nothing to me. I had no idea what I was going to become, what direction I was going to follow.

If something I did reminded me of my mom, I stopped doing it. If it reminded me of the path my dad was taking, I wanted nothing to do with it. The first step I made towards changing things was joining the Police Academy. I thought it would help me push forward, but it really only fueled the hollow shell that I was becoming.

It's no secret to you that I buried myself in my mom's case when I got out. I thought at the time that I had found my north star, my way to still feel connected with my mom. I was wrong, because a north star isn't an object or a job. The only thing I was doing was losing myself and I had no intention of finding me again.

I eventually pulled myself out of the rabbit hole, but when I did, I left who I was behind. Everything I had been my entire life before that moment stayed buried deep inside that hole. When I met you, I was nothing but a hollow shell. I did nothing but work and sleep and occasionally eat. I had no social life, and no desire for one. I was nobody and I thought I was fine being that way.

I was wrong, Castle.

Being lost like that, living in a black hole, it's no way to live. I was just empty on the inside, no emotions, no desires, nothing. I forgot how to feel anything that made life enjoyable. I forgot what it was like to have someone make you feel alive. Until I met you.

You changed me. Little by little you brought the light back into my life, you brought the pieces of me back that I thought no longer existed. You saw the good in me even when I couldn't see it myself and you fought to piece me back together. You pushed me, molded me into someone that I'm happy being. You made me feel alive again.

I lost myself once already, and you found me. I like who I am when I'm with you, around you, because you make me the best version of myself, and as cliché as it sounds, I think that means you're my other my half.

I don't ever want to lose myself again, I don't want to let go of who you've helped me to become. I'm better because of you, Castle.

And no matter what happens between us, I need you to know that you did for me what no one else ever could have. You made me 'me' again. But the truth is, if you walk away from this—from us, you won't be the only person that I'm losing. I love who I am with you, Castle, and I love you.

-Always, Kate.

Castle lays the letter on the desk at the same time that he reaches for his phone. If he was sober, he'd argue that this thought would have never crossed his mind, that five letters doesn't change anything for them.

He's not sober.

He presses her number and puts the phone to his ear before his mind catches up with his body and realizes what he's doing. A brief moment of clarity rushes through him and on the third ring he ends the call, slamming his phone back onto his desk.

Hearing her voice right now would do things to him that he can't handle. He lost himself in her a long time ago and truthfully, he's pretty sure he's losing himself right now as well. He needs to make a decision, because he can't keep living like this.

He stumbles over to the large, leather couch in the corner of his office and drops his body heavily on to it. He's in no shape to drive back to the loft and it's too late to call his driver. He needs to be somewhere that her memory doesn't override his senses. Her scent doesn't linger here and that's what he needs right now.

As his eyes close and he drifts off to sleep, he can't help but think that it really doesn't matter if her scent lingers there or not, she's so much a part of him that he'll carry the memory of her, the scent of her, always.

Bri, thank you for all you do. xoxo

Would love to hear your thoughts. xo