Impulsivity

Chapter 1: An Ace in His Pocket

"How can you do this to me now, Adrian? Get out of here! I don't know what I'm going to do, but as of right now, I have to take a break. I don't know if I can continue to be your assistant." Natalie practically shoved him out the door, and then slammed it.

Adrian Monk stared at the ceiling while he laid in the middle of his bed. He had never been subject to an argument such as he had had with a woman as he had with his loyal assistant. Not that he had never argued with Trudy, but Trudy was so gentle and he had never quite overcome the miracle that she had chosen him. He never wanted to disappoint her, and so he saw to her happiness with the same diligence he gave to his career as a homicide detective. He catered to her in every way, except one. He never gave her a child. Then she was gone forever.

It had been over three years since he had discovered the reality of his beloved wife's death. If he had known the reason why she pressed him about a baby; if he had known she was a mother who had never recovered from what she believed was the death of her child. "If" had turned out to be the story of his life.

The argument with Natalie had ended with him hearing her sobs as he walked away towards his car. Adrian Monk had changed in many ways since solving Trudy's murder. He was on his way to making quite a bit of money because he could now take a few high profile cases out of state. He still preferred Natalie to do most of the driving when it came to his consultant work because he preferred to focus all of his attention on the case, but he had purchased a car after meeting Trudy's daughter. He had found Molly Evans and had a wonderful friendship with her. Having a car had made it easy for him to see her. He had even attended some film festivals with her. But Molly wasn't a little girl; she had had a father, and it wasn't him.

Everything had started innocently enough. It was chicken pot pie night. He no longer cared about exact amounts of chicken, potatoes, and vegetables, but he found comfort in routine. It had all started when he had gathered his courage to say what had been on his mind for the past six months.

"Don't marry him, Natalie. Don't marry Lieutenant Albright."

Six months ago, Lieutenant Steven Albright had asked Natalie to marry him and she had accepted. Oh, Adrian had nothing against the man. He had helped save his life, and save Natalie's life on more than one occasion. It wasn't as though Albright had committed any crime. On second thought, he had done something wrong. He had laid his claim to Natalie and Adrian was slowly coming to realize that he couldn't abide the thought of it.

Monk had begun to come fully alive in the wake of Albright's proposal. This time the changes were more than pullovers, the confidence in his walk, and no longer feeling compelled to touch each parking meter as he passed by. Every shared kiss and pat between Natalie and the Navy doctor made him crazy.

It had been this week that he had planned to make his case to Natalie. He started by calling Leland for advice. Most people thought Monk wasn't just his name, but it was pretty much the way he had lived his life. They knew he had been married, but figured he had engaged in stilted, ritual marital rites in the pitch black of night, underneath several blankets. On top of that, they thought he hadn't done that very often, either. The only person who didn't labor under that delusion was Captain Stottlemeyer. Adrian smiled indulgently because nothing could have been further from the truth.

1989

Adrian was shy, awkward, and he couldn't believe Trudy had chosen him. But he had a secret ace in his pocket that not even Trudy knew about, at least until the night she agreed to marry him. The gift and the curse had worked to his advantage. He was absolutely inexperienced in every way except for kissing, and Trudy had been the first woman he had ever kissed. Not having a social life meant one read...a lot. There was no satellite television and World Wide Web at one's fingertips to keep a social misfit occupied.

Adrian read nearly everything he could get his hands on. A true polymath in every sense of the word, he could find educational value in almost every subject. He put his avid reading to use in his intimate life with his wife. By the time Trudy had agreed to marry him, he had gained a small measure of confidence and more than a little knowledge. He knew there had been a couple of others for the woman he wanted to marry, but Monk had planned the night of their engagement to the last detail.

Their first night together was gentle and tentative, but both managed to find joyful satisfaction in their first sexual encounter. This was to be expected. The weeks that followed had shocked his soon-to-be-wife to her core. Adrian Monk's powers of observation did not only extend to investigating crime scenes. The first few times they had made love, he had studied Trudy's reaction to every kiss, to every touch. He explored every inch of her body and committed each response to memory. He soon figured out what excited her, what pleased her, and what would make her almost delirious in his arms. Then he started combining those moves in a way that made her previous experience seem as though she had taken the veil. Nearly three weeks after they were engaged, they were getting ready to leave for an evening out.

"Adrian, we are never going anywhere if you don't stop looking at me that way." Trudy fastened her diamond bracelet as she stared at her fiancé's reflection in the mirror.

Adrian crossed the room in only two strides and crashed his lips down to hers, as he pressed the length of his body against hers. "I don't care," he growled softly. "All I care about is being with you." Trudy had nearly been inclined to agree as she started to unbutton Adrian's shirt. His hands then encircled her wrists and he smiled at her.

"On second thought, being forced into proper behavior in public will make things that much better when we return."

Trudy nearly whimpered in protest. He was good at doing that to her, and it was frustrating, but he always made it up to her, in the best way possible. Not to mention the fact that Adrian was never wrong. It did make things that much better once they were finally alone. But it didn't stop her from checking the mirror before they left. There were times that she thought the marvelous things Adrian did to her in the bedroom must certainly show on her face when she entered the room on his arm.

Present Day

The world at large never knew the man Randy Disher had once labeled as the "defective detective" had gleefully christened every room of every residence he had shared with his beloved late wife and he never needed any wipes beforehand. (The fact that he had cleaned there the day before was sufficient in those days.)

Ah, wipes...Adrian never used those anymore. Rickover had proven to him that even those things could be more toxic than shaking the hand of a former leper. He did carry a small bottle of hand sanitizer in his pocket, though. But he rarely used it for small things like shaking someone's hands.

There would be no sleep for Adrian Monk tonight. Especially not after the most impulsive sexual encounter of his entire life.