Thanks so much to my reviewers!! And thanks too to the people who are reading even if you don't comment. It makes me happy people are taking the time to read, and I hope I can entertain you. I write only what I would want to read, so I do hope you enjoy, because I know I do!

I would like to note (since I didn't last chapter) that I do like the Randy/Sharona pairing, and I think they could certainly make it work. But I think this is another possibility. And in case you were wondering this is going to be a Adrian/Sharona fic. I purposefully left it open in the last chapter, not sure if I would continue or let it stand alone, but at the insistence of my very kind reviewers, (and a fluffy plot bunny and my own romantic heart) I am back, and the lines are drawn. :)

Mr. Monk and the Confession

On one side of the country, Sharona started a movie, pulled on pajamas and curled up in the middle of her bed. She was asleep before the opening credits had finished rolling. She hadn't slept very well in some time, but the things Adrian had said had soothed her more than she realized she had needed.

On the other side of the country however, Adrian had readied himself for sleep, and climbed into the middle of his bed, but found sleep evaded him. He thought back to his conversation with Sharona. It upset him that she was hurt. He knew Randy wasn't to blame, and he didn't fault the man. He hadn't been optimistic about the pairing in the long run, but he wasn't optimistic about much, and he had hoped he would be proven wrong. They both deserved to be happy. Sharona especially, he thought.

She was a special woman, he acknowledged. She needed a special person to love her. Her one, as she put it. Someone to make her feel better, help her see things more clearly. Someone to take care of her. Someone strong enough to take care of her, he amended, as it wasn't something she tolerated when she could help it.

And more than that, he knew, she needed someone to celebrate with. Someone to weep with. Someone to play with. Someone to yell at, he recalled. She was a woman of many moods. She needed someone who would also let her take care of him. It couldn't be just anyone. Not for his Sharona.

His Sharona? Where had that come from? She had never been his. She'd left without much difficulty, hadn't she? But that was unfair. It had been difficult for her. Very much so. Though he wouldn't have even known that if Benjy hadn't let it slip when he'd talked to the boy over the summer. And he didn't begrudge Sharona the chance to start over with her ex-husband. He couldn't deny he wasn't sorry that that hadn't lasted though. He had never had a very high opinion of Trevor Howe. And he couldn't deny the feeling of loss when he had thought about Sharona, his Sharona, with her ex-ex-husband on the other side of the country.

He finally drifted to sleep with questions unanswered and his unspoken feelings unchecked, and his dreams were full of Sharona decorating a Christmas tree, and someone crying. He wasn't sure if it was Sharona or himself.

* * *

Adrian had breakfast with Molly the next day before she went to work. "How was your night, Adrian?"

"It was fine," he replied, eyeing a table across the restaurant; one of the chairs was only halfway pushed in. "Sharona called me."

"Sharona, your former assistant?" Molly questioned. She'd heard a few stories about the woman, and seen some pictures, but hadn't ever met her.

"Yes, the one and only." Adrian smiled, and slid his eyes back to the off kilter chairs.

"How is she? What did you talk about?"

"She's great. Well, not great, but a little upset, is all."

"Why is she upset? Is something wrong?

Turning his gaze back to Molly, he found it easy to ignore the offensive furniture. "Well you know Randy, Lieutenant Disher who I used to work with, moved to New Jersey? He moved out there to be with her. But it didn't work out."

"So they just broke up? And she called you?"

"She said she needed to hear from a friend."

"That's sweet that she called you. You two must be close. Tell me about her." Molly was suddenly curious. Adrian was always eager to hear about her life, but never divulged much about himself unless prodded.

"Well, she's a nurse, she was my nurse right after Trudy died. She helped me put myself back together enough to get back to work. Then she was my assistant. When I first met her, I thought she was tougher than anyone I'd ever met. And she is tough, but she's also a softie underneath, but don't tell her I said that. She has a son named Benjy, who's a freshman at NYU. He's a great kid." Molly smiled, watching Adrian describe these people. His whole face was lit up at the memories he was replaying in his mind.

"Sharona was patient enough to deal with me at my worst, but never stopped pushing me. She never treated me like I was sick or crazy. Just difficult," he chuckled. "She was always the first person to snap at me if I was having a… moment," he described, shrugging, "but she was always there to defend me if someone else commented on it. She could be very protective."

Molly leaned forward, intrigued. "Is she pretty?"

Adrian answered without thinking. "Beautiful." He seemed to hear himself as he said it. "Beautiful," he said again to himself.

Molly arched an eyebrow at this, but moved the conversation on. "Was she a good detective?"

Adrian chuckled. "She had her moments. She had good logic, something that you can't pick up in the academy. And she could read people pretty well, unless they were a single male. But she was best at being a friend, a partner."

"She sounds like she was very important to you."

"She saved me. After your mother… She brought me back to life. I owe her… so much."

Molly smiled craftily. "So she's very important to you, and she's a good friend, and she calls you when she's upset, and she's single… and you think she's beautiful?"

Adrian's heart jumped to hear it explained like that, and to see the same sly look that he recalled from Trudy's face. "Oh that's—she's just—just Sharona, just my Sharona." There, he'd said it again, and now there had been a witness. He nervously started cleaning his fork with his napkin.

"Your Sharona?" Molly reached across the table to cover his hands with hers. "Is she yours?"

"She's—no, she doesn't belong… I mean…" He petered off, withering under Molly's eager gaze, just as he always had under Trudy's. "I guess she's as much mine as I am hers."

Molly's giddy expression melted into caring wonder. "You're hers?"

Adrian stared at her, mind racing. That hadn't been what he had meant, but now that she asked, how was he to answer a question that he never dared ask himself? But searching her eyes he only found reflected in them the spark of truth he had only just realized. Across the room a couple was seated at the table with the crooked chair, and as the one askance was righted, his thoughts clicked into place. "What—what if I am?" He was asking Molly something he hadn't even dared ask himself, and he looked at her intently. Her face lit up and she laughed breathlessly. She jumped up out of her chair and ran around the table to hug him.

"Adrian! That's wonderful!" She sat down in the chair next to him and kept hold of his hand. "I'm so glad to hear that. You deserve to have someone love you and take care of you and be with you. You've been alone for too long."

Adrian couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm, but even as he did his eyes were sad. "Your mother…"

"No, no, Adrian Monk. I never met Trudy, but I know without a doubt, that she would only want you to be happy, and she certainly wouldn't want you to be alone forever." He looked searchingly into Molly's eyes, so like Trudy's, wanting to find a sure answer there. "And besides," she went on, "don't you think she could be the one who's leading you to Sharona?"

Looking at the daughter that his late wife had brought him, as Natalie had said, so that he had someone to love, he knew that Trudy was still guiding him. And who was he to argue? He pulled Molly into a hug, thanking Trudy again for the girl's presence in his life.

Adrian pulled back. "So. What do I do now?"