It's amazing, what just three numbers mean to the sleepless. It erases the boundaries between what is tangible, and what enters our heads in fantasies or nightmares. Our tongues disconnect with our brains, releasing a flood of thoughts and ideas that, when the dawn breaks, mean nothing. These three numbers, glaring evily out of the clock face, are an unceasing reminder of what you are missing. Rest and escape. To the sleepless, dawn is not a promise. It mocks you.

4:17 were the numbers casting an eerie, red luminescence across the bed covers. Every wrinkle was thrown into harsh relief, despite any attempt to straighten them. Street lights shone gently though the window on the opposite side of the room, reflecting off of a highly polished bureau. Though the light was a bit friendlier than the clock, it still held a spiteful, derisive air, a reminder of the hour.

Lonely eyes cast about the room, seeking an imperfection, a distraction from their thoughts, but there were none. Nothing to fix or adjust. The eyes closed gently, painfully, reflecting upon their inner visions. Images of her. The object of their affection.

Trudy.

Pain and loneliness flared inside when her face appeared in Adrian's mind. It hurt just as much as the day she died, and he knew it always would. He loved her, and sometimes love leaves us hollow.

Trudy was his life. The day she died, a piece of himself was lost. The emptiness festered and bled inside his heart, and he could feel every agonizing second of it. At times, he felt as if he would be consumed by the aching darkness, but he knew. Trudy would have wanted him, Adrian Monk, to survive. To be strong.

But strength doesn't come easily to one at 4:17 in the morning. Ghosts and old weaknesses come under the spotlight, leaving us speechless and afraid. Nightmares become all the more real, and demons show their faces.

Adrian sat up wearily, swinging his legs out over the side of the bed and pushing the covers away. Feeling weak and tired, he put his head in his hands and sighed. Adrian knew sleep wouldn't come tonight. Resignedly, he stood and walked slowly towards the doorway. For a moment, he paused, looking back at the bed. The blankets were jumbled and wrinkled, but he swallowed the urge to straighten them. It didn't matter.

Adrian continued down the hallway, glancing at the left wall. A picture of Trudy, his Trudy, hung there. He stopped, staring. She was so beautiful. His wearied expression softened and he stepped closer, reaching out. His fingers brushed the cold glass lovingly, touching her ever-smiling face. God, she was beautiful.

His eyes misted over, but he brusquely brushed the tears away and continued down the hall. He needed a distraction, something other than his thoughts. He thought of sweeping, but he had already done that. In fact, he had cleaned and re-cleaned his entire house in the throes of his insomnia. There was nothing left but his racing thoughts.

Adrian entered the living room, glancing around. Everything was in perfect order, just as it should be. As it always was. He shuffled slowly towards his desk, and slumped tiredly into the chair. Elbows on the desktop, Adrian rubbed his eyes, sighing again. Nights like this were becoming far too frequent. He was becoming more distracted and exhausted by the day. So much so that Captain Stottlemeier gave him the week off.

"You need to relax," He told Adrian. "Stay home. Get some sleep. We'll be fine."

Relax, hm? Adrian thought ruefully. So much for that.

During one of his therapy sessions, Dr. Bell had suggested sleeping pills. Adrian refused. He hated the idea of chemicals flowing though his veins, lulling him into an artificial sleep. But now he wouldn't have passed them up. He would have given anything just to sleep an hour.

Adrian stopped rubbing his eyes for a moment, and looked up. He could see the pale greenish light of dawn filtering through the curtains of the large window facing him.

He glanced around the desktop, his eyes landing on the telephone by his elbow. The thought that he should call Natalie crossed his sleep-deprived mind. He picked up the phone, but, halfway through dialing her number, he set it back on the receiver. Adrian couldn't bother her now. It was too early.

Besides, he thought to himself. She wouldn't understand.

Natalie was his assistant, not his therapist. He couldn't just push all his problems on her, and expect her to help him deal with it. She had enough to deal with already. Having to trail Adrian everywhere he went, supporting Julie through college, sharing the stress of detective work...

No, he just couldn't.

Slowly, he turned his head towards one of the side drawers of the desk. That was where Adrian kept a copy of Trudy's case file. He must have pored over every detail dozens of times, but he couldn't stop. The mystery of her murder lay unsolved.

He reached out, delicately, to open the drawer, and paused. The pain of her loss filled every space of his mind. For a moment he was overwhelmed. He wanted to retreat, to escape. The urge filled his body, but he pushed it aside. Gently, he opened the drawer, pulling out the file. He set it on the desk, opening it cautiously, as if it were a precious ancient manuscript. Slowly, he pulled out the pictures of the mangled wreckage of her car, barely glancing at them. He already knew every detail. Crumbling remnants of her day planner lay inside small plastic bags, on top of the actual case file. He moved the bags aside and began to read the incident report.

"Trudy was killed at 9AM on December 14, 1997, when a bomb planted on her car detonated in the B5 section of a parking structure at the intersection of Geraldi Street and Summerset Avenue (now the future site of the Trudy Monk Memorial Playground). She was alone in the car, and no one else was--"

He couldn't read any more. Tears filled his eyes, this time unable to be stopped. He lay his head on the desk, whimpering silently. His entire body shook with sobs. After a long while, his eyes began to close, and the tears stopped their free flow. He drifted gently into peaceful sleep, images of Trudy dancing through his brain.

First chapter! :] Please review.