A/N: Hello everyone! Thanks for your kind and encouraging feedback about the last chapter! I had originally intended for this chapter to be the final chapter, but it's just going to be too darn long! I hope you don't mind the story ending on the 11th chapter and not on 10. I apologize profusely for the delay in updating—I wanted to write this chapter so it didn't come across as rushed, and for that, I had to write a lot more than I first predicted. And now that most of you have seen the final episode, hopefully you won't find what Monk does in this chapter to be out-of-character. Please let me know what you think!! And thank you again for following along!
Oh, and by the way, you'll see I've incorporated a couple of lines & plot elements from the actual episode of the End Part 2, but my story won't be completely in line with it as you well know, being as this is moving along an M/N track!
Adrian Monk continued to beam at Natalie, his chapped lips drawn up into the loveliest of grins.
"A body," he suddenly exclaimed. "Wendy Stroh's—she's buried in his backyard."
"Why do you say that?"
"Think about it, Natalie. Rickover with all his connections, and yet, he never called someone to fix his shower? That makes no sense. If they'd had to dig up his yard they would have found the body—and there's no arguing with a body. And his wife swearing he'd never leave his house? It reeks… of a body."
"Oh my God; you did it!" she exclaimed, her face lit up with a big smile. "But where is it in his yard?" Natalie added worriedly. "The cops can't very well dig up his whole yard…."
"I'm not finished," he commented, impatiently watching his assistant. "His shower had been broken for 14 years, which was 2 years before Wendy Stroh was buried there. I'll bet there was a swampy area of his yard from a leaky pipe and so he took advantage of the shower leak. It was much easier for him to dig a hole in the soggy dirt. He didn't fix the bad pipes until recently, when the body would have been reduced to a skeleton…"
"So where exactly is the body in his yard?"
"I'd have to look at it again—I think I could figure it out… The grass there would be a different shade of green—probably more a yellowish green due to the lack of air…."
"What? You're not going over there; you have to rest up. They could just bring in cadaver-sniffing dogs…. They'll find it with no problem. I'm sure his wife doesn't know about the body, but I'll bet she saw him digging up the yard and knows where he was digging—I'll bet she could pinpoint the spot."
Monk just looked at her, a bit baffled. Suddenly something occurred to him.
"You're right. She'd know for sure, but wouldn't know why the police would be asking. But anyway, he's the guy and that proves it…."
As Monk finished up his explanation, Natalie leapt up onto her feet and leaned across the railing of his hospital bed, wrapping her arms around him in a bear hug. Stottlemeyer couldn't help but hear Natalie's impromptu exclamation and stirred awake.
"Captain; Mr. Monk solved the case!" Natalie exclaimed, her voice positively bubbly, as she sat back down in her chair.
"Not really, Captain," Monk added, a bit of embarrassment in his voice. "Trudy solved the case."
Natalie turned back to her boss, giving him a little head shake.
"You're just being modest, Mr. Monk." She turned again to the captain.
"Mr. Monk tied up all the loose ends," she proclaimed with a big appreciative smile. "He knows where we can find a body."
"Well, it better be in Ethan Rickover's backyard or it's gonna take a while to tie him in—"
"That's the thing," Monk interjected. "It is in Rickover's backyard. Wendy Stroh; she just disappeared without a trace. Remember yesterday, when his wife said he'd never move from his house—that he'd commute? And that he hadn't had the shower fixed in 14 years? That's the clincher. The body's buried in his backyard."
"Really?" the captain said with a snort. "You connected all the dots to your wife's murder with one sentence?"
Natalie couldn't read his face. Was Stottlemeyer angry? In disbelief? It was impossible to tell by the captain's expression.
"You're something else, Monk," the captain suddenly murmured, a smile spreading across his face.
Monk took a second to smile back, but then his face turned serious again.
"Natalie—could you get me some tea?" he asked, his voice scratchy from all the explaining he had just done. Smiling, she stood up without a word and left the room.
"Looks like you're doing a hell of a lot better, Monk," the captain commented, a smile on his face, once they were alone.
"Here's the thing—I'm faking it… for Natalie," Monk admitted, his face twisted in a grimace.
Stottlemeyer stood up with a start.
"What? Monk, you can't be serious…."
"I'm dead serious, Leland. And soon I won't be serious."
Stottlemeyer could only stifle Monk's rather decent stab at humor.
"You've got the son-of-a-bitch now, Monk. We're gonna arrest him and get that body using cadaver dogs. He's goin' down. You got him."
Monk gazed up at him, and Stottlemeyer could swear there was a glint of a tear on his cheek.
"I wish I could be there to see that...."
"Don't say that, Monk. Course you will."
"I'm telling you, I won't be there. I want you to promise me something, Leland."
"Anything for you, buddy."
He watched Monk's earnest face, the paleness of his chapped lips, the sheen of sweat on his brow.
"Kill him."
Stottlemeyer hesitated for a second, completely tongue-tied. Was that some kind of cruel joke? No. This man was the guy responsible for Trudy's death, for Monk's breakdown. Monk was dead serious. Eventually he slurred his words out to be barely intelligible, leaning over Monk's bed.
"Okay Monk. I'll kill him for you. There won't be a trial."
There was a pause as the two men stared at each other, and then Monk began to slowly shake his head, a knowing smile on his face. He finally spoke, his pale lips forming the words.
"You're lying."
Natalie re-entered the room to see a very different scene than when she left. Stottlemeyer had his head in his hands and Monk was shifting around in his bed, glancing occasionally at the police captain.
"Did I miss something?" she asked, feeling awkward as she handed Monk his tea.
Both men replied their versions of 'no' at the same time. Verrry suspicious.
As she put the tea down, her eyes scanning between Monk and Stottlemeyer, the cup leaned too far to the side, spilling across the table top over Monk's bed. Natalie immediately scrambled towards the room's paper towel dispenser, flapping her arm in front of the electric eye. In a moment or two she looked underneath it to find that it was empty.
"I'm sorry about this, Mr. Monk, but I think that this qualifies as a valid emergency," she muttered, scurrying towards Monk's clothes and pulling out the recently replenished packet of wipes that he kept only for emergencies. She shook one out and immediately began wiping off the table, lest it spill onto Monk's blanket. She'd never hear the end of it if that happened.
Monk watched her intently as she soaked up the tea with his wipes, afterwards taking out a new batch and going over the tea-free table very thoroughly.
"Hey, Natalie; why don't I go get you something to eat. You have to be starving," the captain offered. "Especially now that your hands couldn't be cleaner." He winked at Monk, who smiled weakly.
"If you could just get me a piece of fruit, like an apple, that'd be great. Thank you, Captain," she said, happy for the kind offer. She was rather hungry, and the enticing smell of the tea spilled everywhere had only made it worse.
Stottlemeyer returned in no time with a shiny red apple, which Natalie immediately bit into as she stood by Monk's bed, licking the juice that dripped down the corners of her mouth.
"Oooh. This is really good."
"Aw, Natalie; don't talk too much about food," Monk moaned. "I'm still thinking about what happened along that highway…"
Natalie glanced over at him as he responded, a sudden pain as she turned to face him.
"That's odd," she said, nursing her side. "Must've pulled something."
"Really? Because you didn't really do anything," Monk muttered. Natalie gave him a little glare, and then glanced down at the table across his bed.
"Oh," she suddenly exclaimed, "I'm really sorry about that. I missed a couple spots."
Monk watched her in astonishment as she pulled another wipe out, beginning to re-wipe the perfectly clean table. He studied her carefully, his eyebrow cocked. Was she turning into him?
"Natalie, are you okay?"
"Of course—" she replied, looking confused. "Weren't you referring to my not cleaning the table? You just said I didn't really do anything."
"No, Natalie. It's just—there are no spots on the table."
"What? Yes there are."
Suddenly she was hit with a wave of nausea, and clutched her stomach. Adrian watched her double over with pain and immediately knew.
"Natalie—you've been poisoned too!"
Stottlemeyer stood up quickly, rushing to Natalie's side.
"What are you talking about, Monk? You were nowhere near the hospital cafeteria when you got poisoned…"
It was then that Monk and Stottlemeyer both looked down at the wipes in her hand. Natalie gasped and threw them down onto the table.
"The poison is on the wipes!" he cried.
"Oh my God," she muttered, in utter disbelief. "It must've rubbed off on my hands and onto the apple…"
Within moments, Natalie was promptly taken to Dr. Shuler, who quickly administered her activated charcoal to soak up the poison in her stomach. Captain Stottlemeyer went with her, sitting nervously in the waiting room. His best friend was dying several floors up, and his good friend Natalie might possibly share the same fate. It was difficult to bear, and while he waited, he called T.K. in an attempt to calm himself down.
"Now, we're going to observe you for overnight just to make sure the poison's out of your system," Dr. Shuler explained, after Natalie had been administered the treatment. "Would you be willing to agree with that?"
"Only if I can go back to Mr. Monk's room. Now that you know the source of the ricin, does that up his prognosis any?"
He smiled at her.
"In regards to if you can go to Monk's room, you can go wherever you want," he replied. "I think you're going to be just fine, but I do recommend you stay overnight. The levels of ricin in your body are quite low—it's good you didn't hold onto those wipes any longer. Knowing the route of entry actually does up Adrian's prognosis, being as the ricin on the wipes was not mixed with a solvent like DMSO, which would take it right through the skin and into the bloodstream. You're very lucky you figured out what happened, Natalie."
"It wasn't me," she said insistently, tears forming in her eyes. "It was Mr. Monk. He saved me."
After she had been released from Dr. Shuler's care, Natalie and the captain approached room 10 in the intensive care unit very quietly, for it was already after 11. As she pushed the door open, a flood of light entering the room from the hallway, Adrian sat up ramrod straight in his bed, having removed the oxygen tubes from his nose.
"Are you okay, Natalie? What did Dr. Shuler say?"
"I'm going to be okay, but he wants to observe me overnight."
"—Wait… He's going to watch you sleep?"
"No, I'm going to stay in the hospital. It's just to make sure I don't get worse. Oh, God; I need to call Julie."
Monk sat quietly in his bed while Natalie told her daughter what had happened but reassured Julie that she'd be okay. It was extremely difficult to get Julie to agree that she wouldn't come home.
"I'm still a bit freaked out by that phone call you got, Julie," Natalie explained. "Please just stay put at your grandparents' house. I'll call you tomorrow morning."
Several more minutes of bickering followed, with Natalie eventually begging Julie to stay put.
"Please, honey; I'm going to be just fine," Natalie explained. "Don't worry about me, okay?"
Once Natalie had been given a clean bill of health, Captain Stottlemeyer decided it was time to act on Monk's solid evidence for Ethan Rickover in the death of Wendy Stroh.
"Please call me if anything comes up," he told Monk, standing up and adjusting his coat. "I'm just a phone call away. Judge Rickover lives pretty close to here, so it shouldn't be long."
"I want to come with you," Monk said, insistence in his voice.
"You know very well you're not in the condition to go wandering around outside. You need to rest up."
"Can you call me when you, you know, arrest him?" Monk said, attempting to give the captain a wink. He still held onto the hope that the captain would follow through on the promise of Rickover's death, a promise that had basically been improbable from the beginning.
Once Natalie was off the phone, she looked over at Monk, who was pretending not to have listened to her conversation with her daughter.
"What're you going to do now?" he asked her, watching her scoot her chair up against the side of his bed.
"I'm going to stay with you until they take me to my room," she admitted, holding up her wrist to show him her plastic hospital wristband.
"How are you feeling?" he suddenly blurted. "Did Dr. Shuler help you? Please tell me everything's going to be okay…."
Natalie was caught off-guard by Monk's concern. It was refreshing to see him taking such an interest in her well-being. She involuntarily smiled.
"I'm feeling much better now, actually, thanks to your quick thinking. Dr. Shuler did help me, and he said that now that he knows the poison's route of entry into your body, you have a much better prognosis." She was scared to say any more, being that the doctor hadn't exactly told her that Monk's survival was a guarantee, so she left it at that.
Rather than ask any more questions, Monk shifted uncomfortably in his bed.
"I need to get out of here, Natalie," he murmured. "It's driving me crazy knowing that Rickover's still out there. It's all your fault, really. If you hadn't gotten poisoned, I was going to…"
Suddenly he shut his mouth, aware that he had said too much. He began looking around the room awkwardly, pointing weakly up at the ceiling.
"Wait—is that a polka dot balloo—"
Natalie could see what he was trying to do, and interrupted his attempt to change the subject.
"You were going to what?"
"Nothing."
"You were going to say something just now. What were you going to do?"
"Uhm… I was going to ask to accompany the captain to arrest Rickover."
"I heard you ask him—and he said no," she said, narrowing her eyes at him. "I know you want to go after that murderer by yourself. But you can't, Mr. Monk. The captain's taking care of that right now. They've got all the evidence they need to lock him away forever."
Suddenly there was a knocking at the door.
"Mrs. Teeger," a nurse said, looking down at the charts in her hands. "Your room is ready. You can visit with Mr. Monk tomorrow. We're going to keep you on this floor. Room 19."
"Ugh," Monk suddenly groaned. Natalie glanced over at him, wondering the reasoning for such a sound. Would he request Natalie to stay with him? His room was technically a single room but it could be used as a slightly crowded double room. She'd be okay with that. It was hard for her to stomach leaving him for a night, even if she was right down the hall.
"What is it, Mr. Monk?" Natalie asked. "Do you not want me to be in that room?"
"Yes."
She was caught off-guard, and showed it in the expression on her face.
"Yes, you don't want me to be in room 19?"
"That's what I said."
She grinned at him, her eyes sparkling.
"Where, then?"
He looked deep in thought, as if considering something very carefully. She held her breath, hoping for Monk to make this huge move, this major step towards….
"How about room 20?" he ventured. "It's… even."
Natalie couldn't hold back the automatic sigh she let out. The nurse was the next person to speak.
"Well, I guess that room is open, Mrs. Teeger. It's up to you."
"Okay," Natalie mumbled. She stood up, moving to Monk's bedside. "I'll meet you down there in a second. I'm going to say goodnight to Mr. Monk first."
"Alright. Five minutes. We just need to do a couple of simple tests: blood pressure, pulse, standard procedures…"
After the nurse left the room, Natalie walked over to Monk's bedside. He gazed up at her, his eyes suddenly looking misty.
"You're not lying to me when you tell me you're going to be fine… right?" he asked her earnestly.
"I told you, just as I told Julie; I'm going to be just fine, thanks to you," she replied, patting his bare arm appreciatively. "The ricin level was very low. I didn't hold onto the wipes for very long and Dr. Shuler gave me a treatment that soaks up ricin in the stomach. I'm feeling 100% again."
"You don't know how happy that makes me. I don't know what I would've done if you'd…." Suddenly she saw a rogue tear slide down his face, and felt overcome with emotion.
"I'm going to be alright, Mr. Monk. Don't worry about anything; just keep your strength up and—"
Suddenly Monk put his hand over Natalie's hand.
"I'm sorry," he muttered quietly. "I'm sorry you had to see me—being sick. I'm sorry for—"
"Mr. Monk; I have a daughter who was once a toddler. Believe me; I've seen it all. Besides, it's not like you got sick on me or in my car." She winked at him at the cutesy tease. "You have nothing to be sorry about."
He made a face of complete distaste.
"That would be horrible. Oh, God; that'd be permanently scarring… can you imagine? It makes me sick to my stomach to even imagine imagining it."
There was a pause in which an opportunity for Monk to say something to Natalie… was missed. Natalie somehow hid the disappointment she felt.
"Well, I'm going to go to my room now. I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Monk."
"Goodnight, Natalie. Thank you for everything. You had to put up with quite a lot today—N, V…."
"I'm always happy to help you. Goodnight, Mr. Monk. And remember; if you need anything, call my cell. I'm right down the hall."
She began to pull her hand out from underneath Monk's hand, but he held fast. With a confused expression on her face, she gaped down at him.
"What is it?"
"If I don't see you tomorrow, I want you to know that I… " He paused suddenly, sighing before continuing as he looked down at her hand. "Here's the thing: it was difficult for me to say to even Trudy, though I always felt it for her…. but then, maybe it was because I found it so hard to believe that someone like her could love me that I couldn't just say it back, and I regret not saying it more, but now I…. Natalie, I—"
"You're not giving up on me now, Mr. Monk!" Natalie interrupted, using her free hand to liberate the hand he had trapped. "I'm not going to let you! You're going to get better and then you can decide what to say."
As much as Natalie wanted to hear the word from Adrian's lips, she didn't want it to accompany his giving up the will to live—which if she had let him continue, may very well have been the case. She had convinced herself that he would live, but allowing him to confess his feelings in such a way might give him that final acceptance he'd need before dying… and she couldn't have that.
"Goodnight, Mr. Monk!" she said again in an attempt to drown him out, quickly shutting the door to his room as she stepped into the hallway, tears welling up in her eyes.
Monk lie in his hospital bed, utterly terrified to fall asleep, when he received the call. He fumbled for his cell phone, which Natalie had conveniently placed on the nightstand by his bed, and opened it just before the final ring.
"Monk?" It was the captain.
"Yes, Captain?"
"We're at Rickover's house now. He's not here. Do you have any idea where the body could be in his yard? It's pretty big, and we're gonna have to wait until tomorrow to get the dogs here…"
"I don't know, Captain; I'd have to see it again. Look for a yellower patch of grass or one that is a ligher shade of green—"
"Anything that can be seen easily at night?" the captain interrupted. It was then that Stottlemeyer realized that the dark wouldn't have hindered Monk in noticing a subtle difference in grass color. "Anything that can be seen by me?"
"Probably not. I told you I should've went along."
"We won't worry about the body tonight, but we are going to stake out his house all night and nab him when he returns. How's Natalie doing?"
"She says she's doing just fine. She's in room 20. They're going to observe her tonight."
"Dr. Shuler's a good doctor; I'm glad he was able to help her so quickly. I'll be by tomorrow morning, Monk, and I'll give you a call as soon as Rickover gets home, okay?"
After the conversation with the captain had ended, Monk yanked out his IV, cringing at the sight of the needle that had been in his arm. Immediately he lowered the railing to his hospital bed and climbed out, throwing on the clothing and accessories he had worn to the hospital. For the second time since watching Trudy's tape, adrenaline was coursing through his veins, making his vision shake and his throat dry as cotton. It wasn't very difficult to evade the nurses and take the stairwell to the first floor. Within minutes, Monk was back outside, coughing heavily as he breathed in the cool night air.
It was a rather chilly evening, dark and overcast. Monk strode down the street with purpose—only several blocks from here was where he'd find Ethan Rickover—the birthing center, where the Judge would be removing any further records implicating him in the string of deaths.
He moved quickly along the sidewalks, arriving at the birthing center in record time. Occasionally he glanced behind himself to ensure that he wasn't being followed. The confirmation that he wasn't being followed was a bittersweet one; on the one hand, he was glad he'd get to go through with this, but on the other hand…
As he took a step in front of the birthing center, he could look through the window at the interior of the building. The glass was unbroken and no alarms had been set off. He continued to concentrate on anything unusual inside the building.
Then he saw it. The dim light of a flashlight covered by a hand.
He took a deep breath and held it. The light was aimed down at Dr. Nash's desk, a subtle shadow of flipping pages able to be seen. He watched the intruder frustratingly flip through the pages, watched the bowed head of gray hair, the tense shoulders as the man continued to search feverishly.
Monk moved to the door as he kept low, gently pushing on the handle. The door was unlocked. He immediately concluded that Kazarinski must have stolen one of Dr. Nash's keys and relayed it to Rickover, in case he had been instructed by the Judge to return for the written record.
Looking down at his hip, Monk removed his service pistol and held it in his shaking hand, contemplating for a moment. It was time to confront the man who had murdered his wife twelve years ago almost to the day.
Monk stepped through the door to the birthing center, his gun already aimed at Rickover.
"Ethan Rickover," Monk said, his gravelly voice carrying ominously through the room.
The man at the desk's head shot up and he stared at the intruder, eyes wide with fear. At recognition of the man in the doorway, he calmed down quite a bit.
"Adrian Monk," the man replied cordially, shining the flashlight in Monk's eyes, which elicited a cringe from Monk. "Don't you have more important things to worry about?"
Monk's hand and eyesight shook dizzily from the rush of adrenaline to every organ of his body. On his face was a stare of death. The Judge slowly stood up from the chair to his full height, leaving the book on the desktop.
"What's more important than my wife?" Monk replied viciously.
"Your wife?" The Judge looked lost. "What are you talking about?"
Monk glared back at him, hatred boiling in his veins. He was seeing red.
"You killed my wife."
The words settled over the room ominously, yet somehow didn't shake up the Judge in the least.
"I must've missed something," Rickover replied with a confident smile, "because I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about."
"You killed my wife Trudy Monk twelve years ago…. almost to the day."
"Trudy… Monk." He shook his head dramatically. "The name doesn't ring a bell; I'm sorry."
"I don't blame you; it's probably hard for you to keep track of names, seeing as you have the blood of several people on your hands."
"I'm afraid you're barking up the wrong tree, Mr. Monk."
"I should have done this twelve years ago," Monk spat, his gun aimed squarely between Rickover's eyes.
Rickover was no slouch; he could see that Monk was enraged and quite capable of killing him.
"Is there any proof for your accusations?" Rickover asked. "Otherwise, if you kill me, it's going to look like you went nuts."
"You're looking at it."
Rickover glanced around him as if confused. Monk clarified, his voice ragged.
"The record book… the written record that ties your name in with the unsolved, 30-year-old murder of a pregnant teenager. Kazarinski didn't finish the job to your liking, did he?"
Suddenly Rickover pulled out a page from the record book, triumphantly holding up a sheet of paper. He pulled a lighter out of his pocket and caught the paper on fire.
"What record?" Rickover asked with an easy smile, tossing the quickly burning paper onto the desk. "You've got nothing, Mr. Monk. You and your wife are quite alike, I must say: neither of you could implicate me."
"That's not true. Trudy made a tape."
"A tape." It looked as if the Judge were about to laugh, a fact which enraged Monk, who found it harder and harder to speak rationally.
"A tape with everything: the girl you impregnated then beat to death, Trudy and Wendy Stroh finding the girl, the article Trudy wrote and the source you murdered…"
The Judge shined the flashlight into Monk's face again, causing Monk to raise his free arm to shield his eyes.
"Is that supposed to scare me? Because it doesn't."
"I know where the body is," Monk growled, his eyes narrowed. "Wendy Stroh—her body is in your backyard. The police are already there."
The Judge looked a bit uncomfortable yet said nothing.
"Put your hands up," Monk snarled. "And lay down the flashlight."
Rickover complied, but as he put down the flashlight, he cringed away from the desk, staring at it all the while. The glow emanating from the streetlamps outside illuminated the room with a dim yellowish light, yet it was enough for Monk to see Rickover's face.
"Look at me!" Monk bellowed. "I want to watch you die."
Rickover continued to stare at the desk, his eyes taking on a look of alarm.
"You should be terrified!" Monk yelled, noting the horrified look in the Judge's eyes, though not focused on him, as he waved his gun about dangerously. "This is your last night alive! Any last words? No, wait…. you know what; you don't deserve any last words…"
Monk's rage spiraled more and more out of control with the realization that he could not achieve the satisfaction of Rickover looking at him. His face twisted into a scowl of fury, he aimed his pistol in the air, firing a shot into the ceiling above Rickover.
Pieces of ceiling sprinkled down on the Judge's head, the Judge who was now giving Monk his undivided attention.
"Now that I have your attention," Monk announced, face murderous, "I have decided that based on the heinousness of your crimes…. I hereby sentence you to death. Sound familiar?"
"California has since abolished capital punishment," the Judge replied, "so no, it doesn't."
"Tonight I make the rules." Monk cocked his handgun, his hand steady and eyes sharp.
"Please wait—just a minute," the Judge suddenly blurted. "Don't do this. I have a family…."
"I had a family too, until you took it away from me."
"Please, Mr. Monk. Let's just let the police take care of this and arrest me. Argh! Oww!"
Rickover leapt into the air as Monk noticed flames spreading through a stack of papers on Nash's desk, beginning to engulf the highly flammable varnish of the wooden desk.
"No," Monk stated resolutely, his finger on the trigger. "You deserve to burn in hell—starting now!"
Suddenly he heard knocking on the glass. For a split-second he turned his head to see—was that Natalie?
A/N: A rather nasty cliffhanger, eh? I should have the last (I promise) chapter posted by tomorrow at the latest! I haven't yet written it unfortunately, but that does mean that your constructive feedback will play a big role in getting me to put pen to paper (or in my case, finger to keyboard) and post this final chapter!!! Please let me know your thoughts!!