When Natalie came to, an EMT was gently prying her eyelids open to look at her pupils.
She jerked in alarm, but then Monk moved into her range of vision. He was holding her hand, and he put gentle pressure on her shoulder, easing her back down. "It's okay," he said, his voice low and reassuring. "Just lie still, let them check you out."
She was lying on a gurney, she realized, in an ambulance. A moving ambulance. No sirens that she could hear, though.
The EMT gently moved his fingers over the bruise on her head, and she winced and cried out in pain.
"Sorry," the medic apologized as Monk squeezed her hand reassuringly. "That's quite a lump you have there. Might've caused a concussion."
He reached behind him for a cold pack, wrapped it in gauze, twisted to activate, and held it against her aching head. She sighed as the blessed coolness helped ease the throbbing pain. "That's better," she murmured, relaxing slightly.
Monk took over holding the pack to her head as the EMT made notes in a chart. "You're a little dehydrated," he said as he wrote, "so we'll get you some fluids once we get to the ER."
They reached the hospital a few minutes later, and in short order she found herself in a triage room, propped up against pillows, the lights dim, gratefully sipping at a glass of ice water as a nurse started an IV. Monk paled at the sight of the needle and turned away, but to his credit he didn't bolt from the room.
Once the nurse left he adjusted her bedding fussily, tugging and pulling until the blankets were straight, centered, and even. Then he went to work on her pillows, plumping and adjusting. "There," he finally said, and stepped back, satisfied. "That's better."
As he sat back down in the chair by her bed, she got a good look at him for the first time all evening. He seemed... haggard, she decided. His eyes were hollow and shadowed, his cheeks were pale, his usually immaculate clothes were rumpled.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"Me?" He blinked, surprised at the question. "I'm not the one in the hospital bed." He glanced at the IV bag and shuddered slightly.
"I'm fine," she told him, reaching out for his hand. "Really."
Easy for her to say, he thought. She couldn't see her own pallid complexion, or the ugly, swollen bruise mottling her right temple. "I was so scared," he blurted. "And I couldn't do anything to help you."
"Adrian, you did help me," she told him.
He blinked in surprise at her use of his first name. "Natalie, I was sitting outside doing nothing while you were in there with that – that monster. There was nothing – "
"But you did help," she insisted. "Look, I know it sounds strange, but when I was in there, I – well – I kind of heard your voice in my head, telling me what to do. And when I got out, you were there, waiting for me." She linked her fingers with his. "When I saw you, I knew I was safe."
He started to shake and couldn't stop. "I thought – I thought you'd – and I couldn't –"
She drew him to her and held him tight. He made no sound, but she could feel hot tears seeping into the cloth of her shirt as he clung to her. She remembered how he'd soothed her after her nightmare, and felt that now she was doing the same – only the nightmare had been real this time, and they'd both had to live through it.
She rested her cheek on his head and stroked his hair, and after a few minutes he raised his head. He reached up and framed her face with his hands. "Don't leave me," he whispered, desperately, his eyes drilling into hers.
She covered his hands with her own. "Never."
To her surprise, he smiled, his eyes warming with affection. "I wasn't sure if you'd heard that."
She smiled back. "I did."
He leaned forward slightly, bending his head closer to hers, fully intending, finally, to kiss her – but a knock on the door caused him to jerk back. Stifling a curse, he sat down as the door eased open.
"Hey, okay if I come in?" Stottlemeyer asked, poking his head inside.
"The door's open," Natalie said, wondering if her face looked as flushed as it felt. She covered her discomfiture by grabbing her water cup and drinking deeply.
He came in – and to her surprise, Lieutenant Gautier followed behind him. "How're you feeling?" the lieutenant asked.
"I'm all right," she said, noticing his sharp eyes arrowing in on her bruised face. "It looks worse than it feels."
"Where's Randy?" Monk asked.
"He's getting our suspect through booking and taking care of some of the paperwork," Stottlemeyer said. He sat down in the other visitor's chair, stroking his mustache thoughtfully. "Wally Dougal had quite the statement. Seems someone convinced him to do the right thing for his son's sake."
Natalie squirmed uncomfortably, avoiding his eyes. "I – I was just trying to stall for time."
"You talked him down," Gautier said, standing ramrod straight in a military posture. "You were bound, gagged, trapped in your own home at the mercy of a violent killer, and you not only talked him down, you convinced him to testify against Beiderbeck." He shook his head, and the admiration was clear on his face. "You are quite a woman, Ms. Teeger."
She cleared her throat, embarrassed. "I, um, sort of told him I'd try to see if he could serve time in Sacramento, so he could be near his son. Do you know if that's possible?"
Gautier considered. "Well, it's going to be a while before all the legal wrangling is done," he said, finally. He paced the room in slow, measured steps as he talked. "Dallas PD is going to want to extradite him for the charges pending there, unless we can convince them to drop them as part of a plea deal. And he'll have to be tried separately by the JAG Corps due to his Navy crimes. But... California State Prison in Sacramento is a maximum-security facility, so I might be able to pull some strings and see that he's housed there, at least for a portion of his sentence."
"I'd appreciate it," she said, relieved.
"You want to help him?" Monk stared at her, aghast. "After he killed your husband, lied about it, and then came back and held you hostage?"
She met his shocked gaze squarely. "Holding on to hate won't bring Mitch back, but cooperating with Dougal might at least get him justice. I'd rather have justice than revenge."
The room was silent for nearly a full minute, until Stottlemeyer cleared his throat. "Quite a woman," he muttered, then raised his voice. "Listen, I called your parents' place and talked to Julie, gave her the short version of what happened tonight. I didn't want her to hear about it on the news before she heard it from me or you."
"No, I suppose not." Natalie sighed, secretly ashamed that she hadn't thought to call her daughter herself.
"She said she was going to come home tomorrow."
Her eyes widened in alarm. "Home? But – "
"I know, I know. I managed to talk your parents into staying put, and I tried to convince her to stay where she was, but she insisted." The captain smiled wryly. "She's got a stubborn streak."
Natalie grinned. "Tell me about it."
"Listen, I've taken a look at your place – it just needs some cleaning and new locks, since the one on the back door was busted. I'll call your landlord tomorrow and, uh, expedite that process. In fact, I'll install new locks myself if he gives me the green light."
"I can do the cleaning," Monk volunteered.
"Yes, you sure as hell can," Stottlemeyer agreed.
There was a light tap at the door, and a tall woman in a white coat stepped inside. She had dark hair streaked with silver that was pulled back in a chignon, and large, almond-shaped black eyes that studied the occupants of the room coolly, before she spoke in a voice that was faintly Hispanic. "Excuse me, I'm Dr. Hector. I came to examine Ms. Teeger."
"We'll get out of your way," Stottlemeyer told her, rising to leave. "Natalie, we're going to go to the cafeteria, grab some coffee."
Monk rose too, but Natalie caught his hand in hers. "Please stay," she said, softly.
He sat back down as the other two men filed out. Dr. Hector sized the two of them up, her eyes lingering on their joined hands. "You must be Adrian Monk."
He nodded. "Have we met?"
She smiled. "No, but we have a mutual friend. My husband is Dr. Neven Bell." She inclined her head as Monk's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "As I understand that you prefer not to shake hands, I'll introduce myself to your assistant instead." Her face was solemn but her eyes were twinkling as she held out her hand to Natalie. "Anna Hector. It's good to meet you."
"Likewise," Natalie said, shaking her hand. "I knew you were a doctor too, but I didn't realize you worked in the ER."
"It's worse than that; I'm actually Chief of Emergency Medicine here," she said, laughing a little. "I recognized your name from the intake sheet and decided to see to you myself. Neven would expect nothing less."
"Oh, you don't have to – " Natalie began, but Dr. Hector cut her off.
"It's a privilege, really," she said, laying the file she carried on the bedside table and pulling on a pair of sterile gloves. "Given Neven's association with both of you, I've followed Mr. Monk's cases quite closely in the media. I have to admit, I'm a fan. And I owe you both – " she nodded at Monk, "– a favor for your role in the matter of Xavier Danko."
"Xavier gave himself up," Monk said, shrugging modestly. "I didn't really do anything."
"It's the thought that counts," Dr. Hector disagreed, smiling. "Now, Natalie, let's take a look at you."
She carefully probed the bruise on Natalie's forehead, looked at her pupils, gently felt her skull, and asked questions – about Julie, her parents, her childhood home, her work. "How long was she unconscious?" she asked, directing her question at Monk.
"I'm not sure, exactly. No more than five minutes," he answered.
She nodded, satisfied. "That's quite a bruise," she said to Natalie, "but I don't think you have a concussion – or, if you do, it's very mild. Your memory isn't impaired, your pupils look good, there doesn't seem to be any sub-cranial swelling, and the amount of time you were unconscious can easily be attributed to shock and emotional trauma, coupled with the dehydration, as opposed to a head injury." She pulled off the gloves and disposed of them.
"So, I don't have to stay here tonight?" Natalie asked, her eyes brightening.
"I don't see any reason to keep you here for observation, so I'll release you into Mr. Monk's care. Keep a cold pack on that bruise every two hours for the next twelve, and that should help the swelling considerably. Take it easy for the next few days, use over-the-counter painkillers for any headache, and of course call me if the pain gets worse or if any new symptoms come up." She took a business card out of her coat pocket and handed it Natalie. "I'll direct the staff to forward any calls from you to me immediately, whether I'm home or here."
"What about – " Natalie hesitated. "There's, um, a party, on New Year's Eve. We were going to go." She glanced at Adrian and then back at Dr. Hector. "I suppose that's off the table?"
"Of course it is," Adrian said, his eyes widening in alarm. "You were unconscious. You can't go to a big party two days after like nothing happened."
"Hmmm." Dr. Hector tapped a fingernail on the table, considering. "Would that be the SFPD Charity Gala?"
"That's the one," Natalie confirmed. "It's at the Four Seasons and I've been looking forward to it for months. I bought a new dress and everything."
Adrian looked from Natalie to Dr. Hector. "She can't go," he protested. "She was hurt. You said she should take it easy."
Dr. Hector studied Natalie. "Did you buy new shoes, too?" she asked.
"Yes, of course."
"High heels?"
"One-and-a-half inches."
The doctor nodded. "Not too high, then. Good. I'll tell you what – stay off your feet as much as possible today and tomorrow. Find a ride or take a cab to the hotel – no driving for you just yet. When you go to the party, you stay hydrated – no caffeine, no alcohol. Water or juice would be best. Stay off your feet there, too, as much as you can. You don't have to sit out all the dances, but don't overdo. If you start feeling dizzy or overtired, go home and rest. Head injuries, even those that don't result in concussions, shouldn't be trifled with, but on the other hand I don't see why you can't attend the gala as long as you're sensible about it. Neven and I will be there, also, if you start feeling unwell." She smiled at Adrian. "And, of course, you'll have Mr. Monk to keep an eye on you."
"But I – " he began to object. Then he saw Natalie's hopeful expression and sighed. "I suppose so."
She beamed, squeezing his hand. "Thank you."
Dr. Hector grinned at them. "I'll send a nurse in with your discharge papers. It was nice meeting the both of you."
Stottlemeyer dropped them off at Monk's apartment, with promises to come back to take them to Natalie's house the next morning so they could begin cleaning and repairs.
As he unlocked his door, amazed he'd remembered to lock it behind him in the first place, Adrian couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so exhausted. He couldn't wait to crawl in to bed and –
Bed.
The thought halted him in his tracks. He only had one bed. He couldn't expect Natalie to sleep on the couch, not after what she'd gone through tonight. She needed to be as comfortable as possible. He could sleep on the couch, he supposed, but –
"What's wrong?" Natalie asked, stifling a yawn. She'd been staring blankly into space, trying to stay awake, when she realized he was just standing in the foyer, holding his coat, confusion etched on his face.
He blinked, frowning, and finished hanging up his coat. "I was just... I'm not too sure what to do about, uh, sleeping arrangements."
"Oh." It took her brain a minute to catch up. "I'll just sleep on the couch – "
"No, you're supposed to rest," Adrian disagreed. "You'll get better rest in the bed."
"Well... I guess you could sleep on the couch," Natalie suggested, surprised at his vehemence.
"I suppose," he said, frowning again.
She raised an eyebrow. "But...?"
"I... it's just that..." He flushed crimson and took a deep breath. "I don't want you to be alone." He gave her one quick, apologetic glance and blushed again, his gaze fixed steadily at a point above her head. "Actually, it's more that... I don't think I can leave you alone. Not after what happened tonight."
She was so fatigued that it took her a minute to understand what he was saying. "To be completely honest, I'd rather not be alone."
"Well..." He glanced down the hall toward the bedroom and rolled his shoulders nervously. "It's a queen-sized bed. I mean, there's room for two people."
She was too tired to stand anymore, so she wandered into the living room and sat down on the arm of a chair. "What are we doing, Adrian?" she asked.
"We're... we're trying to figure out sleeping arrangements," he said, instantly concerned. Maybe she had a concussion after all. He moved to sit in the chair across from her so he could look in her eyes and see if they were glassy. To his relief, they looked clear and focused, albeit tired and troubled, as she averted her eyes from him. "Natalie?" he asked.
She blew out a breath. "The truth is, I'm scared to death."
He stiffened. "Of me?"
"Not of you, exactly." She ran a hand through her hair, wishing she was better at putting her jumbled thoughts into words. "Just... I'm scared about what might happen to you if this... if whatever is going on between us... doesn't work out." She summed up her courage and met his eyes. "I'd rather die than hurt you."
He swallowed, his throat feeling like sandpaper. "What makes you think you'll hurt me?"
"I don't know." She was too tired to stand up and start pacing, so she worried the handle of her purse in her hands instead. "I'm not saying it's logical, I just... maybe it's better if we just keep things as they are for a while, at least until –"
"I love you." He hadn't planned to say the words, not here and now, but they seemed to leap out of his mouth of their own accord.
Her hands stilled. "What did you say?" she whispered.
"I love you. I'm in love with you," he clarified. "I – I didn't fully realize it until earlier tonight, when I thought I might lose you." It was funny that he didn't feel nervous at all. On the contrary, he felt strangely calm. "There's no going back for me, Natalie."
A tear slipped silently down her cheek. "I – I don't know what to say," she said, working furiously to remain composed. "I don't know how I feel. With everything that's been going on – with Mitch, and Trudy, I just don't – " She lost the attempt to fight back her tears and started to cry in earnest – started to cry for the first time all night. All the fear and panic she'd kept carefully contained came spilling out in a torrent of tears.
Distressed, Adrian rose to pull her up and into his arms. "Shhh, it's okay," he murmured as she sobbed against his chest. "I'm sorry, I didn't plan to say anything so soon. It just happened. I don't – we don't have to decide anything tonight." He stroked her back. "Please don't cry. I'm sorry."
"I don't know what's wrong with me," she managed between sobs.
"You're tired, and overwrought," Adrian said, running his hands up and down her arms. "You need sleep. Listen, if you'll feel better about it, I can take the couch."
She wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "I really don't want to be alone tonight," she gulped, sniffling. "But it's not fair to you to ask you to – to stay with me with things so – when everything is so uncertain."
"If you don't want to be alone, then you aren't going to be alone," he stated firmly. "We're going to share the bed. Just as – as friends. All right?" He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and gently dabbed the tears off her face. "No monkey business, I promise."
As he'd hoped it would, the comment caused her lips to quirk. "'Monkey business'?"
"Come to think of it, I'm not sure what exactly monkeys do for business," he mused, replacing his handkerchief in his pocket. "Actually, I'm pretty sure I don't want to know."
She laughed, and the tension in the room eased.
"Go get your nightclothes on, and go to bed," he said, squeezing her hands gently. "You need to rest."
She did as he said, and crawled into bed as he was taking his turn in the bathroom. She was so tired that she drifted off only moments after her head hit the pillow. By the time Adrian emerged from the bathroom in his pajamas, she was sound asleep.
After he put his clothes away, he climbed into bed himself and laid there, his head propped on his hand, watching Natalie sleep. It was strange to have a woman other than Trudy on that side of his bed, but at the same time... it seemed right. He couldn't really explain it any other way. With a sigh, he laid back on the pillow and fell deeply into sleep.
When he opened his eyes again, he thought it was morning and the sun was shining. He started to get up, then stilled as he realized that the soft glow of light was coming from the foot of his bed, where it surrounded a woman who was standing there, smiling at him.
"Trudy," he breathed.
"Hello, Adrian," she said. Her voice was low and sweet.
He suddenly realized that they weren't alone in the room, as they usually were when Trudy "visited" him. Natalie was still sleeping peacefully beside him, and his gaze flew from one woman to the other as he frantically groped for an explanation.
"Trudy, I – I – this isn't what it looks like – " he stammered.
"I know exactly what the situation is," Trudy said gently. "You've fallen in love again, and I couldn't be happier for you."
"She's – " he began, and then the meaning of what she said caught up to him. "You are? Really?"
"Of course." Trudy moved to sit on his side of the bed. "Adrian, I know that you'll never stop loving me, and I know that you can never love anyone the same way you loved me. But that doesn't mean there isn't room in your heart for a different kind of love." She took his left hand in hers. "Loving Natalie doesn't detract from your love for me. It complements it."
"Trudy, I promised I'd be your husband forever," he said, gazing into the beloved eyes he knew so well.
"No, my love," she said softly. "You vowed to love, honor, and cherish me until death parted us. And it did." She looked momentarily sad. "I'm very sorry about the key. At the time, I'm afraid I wasn't thinking very clearly. I should have told you everything from the start."
"It's all right," he assured her. "I understand."
Her face turned serene again. "I know you do." She gently caressed his hand, and then, ever so slowly, she slid his wedding ring off his finger. She placed it in his palm and closed his fingers over it. "I think it's time that this came off," she told him. "Our marriage may be over, but our love is still there and always will be. You have so much love to give, Adrian, and I'm so pleased you've found someone to share your life again."
"Well – maybe – " he hesitated. He couldn't help but glance at Natalie. "I don't know if she feels about me the way I feel about her."
"Give her a little time," Trudy said, smiling. "She'll come around eventually. I did."
He chuckled. "That's right. It took you a little while, as I recall."
She touched his cheek, and leaned in to place a light, gentle kiss on his lips. "Be well. Be happy, Adrian."
And just like that, she was gone.
He sat in the darkness, blinking, wondering if it had all been a dream. Then he realized his fist was clenched, and when he opened his fingers, his wedding ring rested on his palm.