Hey all. This takes places right after Mr. Monk Falls in Love.

I hope you enjoy!

…

Chapter 1: Chicken Pot Pie for the Soul

Natalie pulled the chicken pot pie out of the oven, simultaneously setting it onto the stove to cool and shutting the oven door. "Julie! Dinner's ready!" she called as she removed her oven mitts and set them on the counter. When she didn't hear any reply, she leaned into the hallway. "Julie!"

After a moment, she heard a faint, "Coming, mom!" and turned to pull some plates out of the cupboard. Next came some forks, and then a few napkins… well, a lot of napkins, for Mr. Monk.

Julie thumped down the stairs and jumped into the kitchen. "Chicken pot pie!" She took the drinking glasses her mother handed her and set them at the table. "Where's Mr. Monk?"

Natalie took a deep breath and combed a lock of hair behind her ears absently, trying to keep track of everything she was doing. "He's, um, he's in the living room." She put the oven mitts back into a drawer.

Julie leaned forward to see beyond the kitchen wall. "I don't see him."

"Oh he's in there." Looking around to make sure all was in order, Natalie motioned for Julie to begin serving herself. "I'll be right back."

She stepped hesitantly into the living room. "Mr. Monk? Dinner's ready." When no response came, she decided to walk around to the front of the couch. "Mr. Monk…"

He lay on his side, huddled against one armrest in a fetal position, head sandwiched between either arm. His ears were covered, but Natalie knew he could hear her… he could hear everything. She moved to where his feet were scrunched up against his rear and delicately lowered herself onto the couch. "Mr. Monk, I know you can hear every word I'm saying." She paused, waiting for a response that didn't come. "You can't sulk in here forever, I mean, it's been three days!"

He didn't move, and for a split second, Natalie feared he had stopped breathing—but then his chest rose the slightest bit, and she relaxed. He had been there for hours. Natalie could practically see the dark cloud looming over him. Shaking her head to herself, she reached behind him and tried to rub his back, but Monk immediately recoiled. Slightly hurt, Natalie hesitated, then stubbornly tried again. This time, he didn't move, and she let out a loud sigh.

"Come on, you haven't eaten all day. And it's chicken pot pie day." She paused. "Chicken-Pot-Pie," she emphasized.

He mumbled something unintelligible.

"What?" Natalie leaned over him to hear him better.

"…I'm not hungry."

"Well you have to get up."

Monk shook his head from between his arms. "…tired."

"You've been sleeping all day."

"I haven't slept… in three days," he said hoarsely, albeit louder.

"You know what I mean," Natalie mumbled, pleased that she was at least getting him to talk. "You need to get up and move around a little bit. Come on, Mr. Monk." She stood in a rush of air, but her enthusiasm didn't catch. "Mr. Moooooonk!"

"… go away," he whispered, his voice pained.

Natalie narrowed her eyes. "This is my house. If you want me to go away, you should get up, and go home. But either way, get up!" She grabbed his arm, trying to pull him off the couch, but he didn't budge. Then an idea popped into her head, its brilliance bringing a devious smile to her lips. She knelt down by his head. His eyes were hidden behind his balled hands, but his mouth was exposed.

"Mr. Monk," Natalie cooed almost seductively, "if you don't get up, I'm going to smooch you on the lips!" She grinned at her bold plan, making kissy-sounds. She was mostly indifferent at the idea of kissing her boss, though she hadn't given it much thought since their bout with the genius. Monk, on the other hand, would be shocked and disturbed by the very idea. There was no way he would let lips that weren't Trudy's get even close to his, and that was the plan.

When Monk didn't move an inch, not even to scrutinize her with a fearful glance, she figured that he figured she was bluffing. She leaned forward very slowly, like a countdown. "I'm serious, I'm really going to do it!" she said, waiting for him to pop up out of the chair. She drew closer and closer until she was only a couple inches away, and he still didn't move a muscle. Her grin faded slightly as she wondered if he was actually going to let her do it. "Almost there," she murmured tauntingly, closing in, her chest tightening confusingly for just a moment.

Milliseconds before her lips would have grazed his, her ploy worked, and Monk shot up like a rocket. Natalie chuckled. "Gotcha." A small part of her had worried that he wouldn't move, and she found herself incredibly relieved that he had. Old, predictable Mr. Monk.

Monk, standing on the opposite side of the couch, stared at her wide-eyed. He moved his hand to his lips, touching them with the tips of his fingers. "You… y-you were actually going to do it!" he blurted incredulously.

Natalie rose off her knees into a crouch, completely pleased with herself. "I told you I wasn't bluffing, Mr. Monk, but you didn't believe me." She stood and turned to look at him, and was saddened by what she saw. He was still shocked, but his eyes were bloodshot with dark bags hanging beneath them. Natalie immediately felt guilty. He looked more awful than he had that morning. "…I'm sorry, Mr. Monk," she found herself saying.

Monk tried to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, but he kept readjusting his hand as if he couldn't find the right way to do it. "You almost… kissed me!"

Natalie nodded. "Yes, and I'm sorry."

"You almost… you almost…"

Natalie reached up to grab his arm, rolling her eyes. He pulled away. "Mr. Monk, I'm sorry. Now let me help you down. I don't bite, I swear."

"…But you do… kiss!" Monk muttered, narrowing his eyes at her.

"Yes, Mr. Monk, I am a human, and I do have lips, and it is quite possible that I kiss." He gave her a look. "I'm sorry! I said I was sorry, and I mean it!" She extended her hand to him, and after a few long moments of consideration, Monk let her grab his wrist and help him down. "Now, come on, dinner's getting cold."

Julie waved at Monk from the table, swinging her fork. "Come on, Mr. Monk, before I eat it all!"

Natalie smiled at her daughter's humor and glanced at her boss to find him smiling—just a little bit—too. Relief flushed through her; she had been so afraid that his most recent rejection would incapacitate him for weeks—and three days had proved plenty long. But smiling was the first step.

Monk began to shuffle around the couch toward the kitchen, but paused and turned to his assistant and best friend. His face was grief itself. "Natalie… I… I really… maybe… she…"

Natalie's eyes softened. "Mr. Monk, you did the right thing. I'm sorry she couldn't appreciate that."

"…She was right," Monk muttered quietly. "I just… I didn't want her to… she didn't do it! Natalie, she didn't do it, so…" He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his temples. "Innocent people… shouldn't… go to jail."

"I know." Natalie debated what to say, but then he spoke again.

"Was I so wrong… that I deserved her hate?"

Natalie decided to choose her words carefully. "She wasn't… she isn't…" She scrunched her eyebrows together in concentration. "She didn't understand you. I mean, Trudy, Trudy really understood you, Mr. Monk. She didn't put up with you—she loved you, for everything that you were… that you are. And… and…" She wrung her hands together, trying to find words that wouldn't inadvertently insult or hurt him. "It takes a really special person to understand you, I mean, really special, and… and well, she was special, but not…" She trailed off, unsure.

Her boss reached a hand up, very slowly, to Natalie's face, brushing her chin with the tips of his fingers. "You… you understand me." He murmured it so quietly, she wasn't sure if she'd heard him correctly. He nodded, indistinct emotions flashing briefly through his eyes. "Thank you… for understanding…"

Natalie froze, both surprised and intrigued by his behavior. She looked up from his hand to his face and met his gaze.

Something happened to her then as she looked at him, something clicked into place. The seconds took their time passing by, and then Natalie felt like she was floating, or that she had suddenly plunged into the depths of a pool. It was a mixture of fear and exhilaration that quivered in her stomach and spread outward until it encased her. It was simultaneously wonderful and terrifying. Wanting to reach out and grab it, whatever it was, she inhaled deeply in preparation and opened her eyes. It was gone.

Monk was already in the kitchen, spooning bits of chicken pot pie onto separate plates.

Natalie watched him for a moment and discovered she was breathing heavily. She looked down, dazed, heart hammering, and shut her eyes. What… was that?

"Mom?"

Natalie didn't hear her daughter calling for her. Finally, her eyes focused on shoes, and she looked up at Julie. "Huh?"

"Are you okay?" Julie folded her arms and bent down to get a better look at her mother's face. "You've been standing there for like a minute."

Natalie rubbed her chin with a hand. "Um… yeah. I'm fine."

Julie's gaze was scrutinizing. Then she gasped. "Mom," she whispered, grinning, "you're blushing!"

Natalie blinked. "I'm what?"

Her daughter's grin faded into confusion. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Natalie bobbed her head. "Go eat, honey, I'll be right there."

Julie nodded, giving her mother a knowing look. "Okay, Mom."

Natalie, forgetting about her daughter, her dinner, and everything else, approached one of her favorite pictures of Mitch sitting on a shelf. She picked up the frame and stared at her husband, searching for something that didn't seem to be there.

Tears of happiness and confusion welled in her eyes as she set the picture down. Mitch had died ten years earlier, and since then Natalie had dated countless men. But they were… they weren't real. She had known they wouldn't last, that they were just temporary things.

The leper was definitely a temporary thing.

Her job with Monk was supposed to be a temporary thing, too… But I would rather die than quit. Monk and Julie were the only constants in her life, the only ones she could always rely on. She had no close friends or relatives other than them, no one else out there. Just them.

All the men she dated could never add up to what Mitch was, and Natalie had resigned herself to the fact that there would never be another Mitch—there would never be anyone close.

But now… she remembered clearly the first time she realized what Mitch was to her… a Saturday evening when autumn leaves were colored crisp oranges, yellows, and reds, intensified by cloudless sunset. They were walking, arm in arm, through the park. Being with him felt so natural after dating for so long. Natalie basked in the feeling.

Mitch pulled her to a stop and motioned around them with his free hand. "Look at this," he said.

Natalie smiled at his enthusiasm. "Yeah, it's pretty amazing."

He sighed, pulling her a little closer. "This, this is all I need."

Natalie glanced at him. "What do you mean?"

"Now that I've seen this," he said, looking around him in awe before turning to Natalie and cupping her chin, "I won't have any regrets when I die." His eyes glistened, tinted orange in the fading light. "That's not to say I don't still want some things…" He grinned. "Like, maybe, a baby…"

Natalie's breath caught. "Mitch, we aren't even married!"

"I know." He crouched, scraping through the leaves that littered the ground idly. "See, I'm content, I mean, this right now makes me perfectly content." He picked up a handful of leaves and began plucking them from his closed fist one by one. "But it would hurdle my life beyond content to wonderful, blissful, even euphoric—let's call it perfect for lack of better word—if you would marry me." He pulled the last leaf out from between his fingers and opened his hand, palm up, to reveal a ring.

A slight breeze moved through the park. Time slowed, and Natalie felt like she had plunged underwater…

She smiled painfully, recalling his confession later that night about the weeks he spent working on his proposal speech. Of course she had said yes. In that moment, she had never been more certain that she was in love, and that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with Mitch; the feeling she got when he asked her, the amazing sensation that she had only ever had with Mitch, proved that.

Natalie dropped her head into her hands, fighting back the tightness in her throat and hammering in her chest. She felt a hundred thoughts collide within her and wondered what it would be like to cry and laugh and scream and sing at the same time.

She could deny it all she wanted, but there was no use hiding from a truth now chained to her heart.

…