Author's Note: Some of the dialogue in this chapter is necessarily technical in keeping with the character. Also, much of what is mentioned is happening today. Article titles will be included in notes following story. Thank you all for your continued support and for reviewing!
The pull of the cord of the large canvas bag placed over his head and shoulders and the swift jerking motion of being drug through a van door were what Adrian felt as his captors sped away from Massachusetts General. From there, he was held down, unable to move and too terrified to speak. Whoever it was above him with his torso pressing Monk down into the floorboard was much larger than he was and was futile to fight. So, he laid still and he counted.
Monk counted red lights, memorized stops and turns, continually calculated the time that he had been on the road so that he could make his way back if he had opportunity to escape. Much to his surprise the drive was short. In about two miles, the engine shut off.
Where were they? He could hear the sound of sloshing water against a wooden wall and he smelled the salty sea. Boston Harbor. They're going to kill me and dump my body in the water. A lump formed in his throat.
Without a word, a door slid open and Monk felt himself being physically lifted up like a sack of potatoes, slung over someone's shoulder. He heard the sounds of heavy feet as they travelled down an incline and then stepped on hollow stairs. They stopped and he was placed on his feet on solid ground. Or was it? He felt a rise and fall with each step he took and knew it was a boat. He began to shake.
Shuffling along, his captor kept hold of his arm keeping him from falling or going off course, until the toe of his shoe hit a bump.
"Stairs." The first word he heard was deep and thick. Obediently, he lifted his foot and cleared the obstacle then, with his arm supported, made his way down a short set of steps leading into a below-deck cabin. Walking a few feet further, he stiffened when he heard a door shut and took in a deep breath when he felt the edge of a chair seat being pressed into the back of his knees and hands on his shoulders bidding him to seat. Then all was silent – save the creaking of the vessel and the beating of his heart – for the space of about five minutes.
Suddenly the door opened again and a voice he had never heard instructed someone to stand guard. The hands on his shoulders removed and he heard the man walking towards where they had come in.
"Remove it." the man said and another set of hands removed the bag from over Monk's shoulders and hands. Adrian shielded his eyes from a bright light being shined in his face.
"Who – who are you? What do you want?" he whimpered in a voice that was both shaky and higher pitched than normal due to fear.
"We do the questioning. Not you." A man with a thick Boston accent stated in a low and threatening tone.
Monk shuddered, but before he could say or do anything else the main door was thrust open, knocking into a man in front of it that he could see was at least seven feet tall.
"What the heck is going on here?" a shadow of a man standing in the doorway asked through a voice that was raised.
"Getting ready to question our subject." The Bostonian said. "You're right on time."
"Mr. Monk is a witness, not a subject Mr. Mallory; and, this is an interview not an interrogation. Get that light out of his face and go grab him some water at once!"
"But, sir…"
"Dammit! Do as I say! Now!" the man yelled.
"Yes, sir." Mallory replied, flipping off the light switch and making his way to the cabin door. Monk blinked several times to try to clear the spots from his eyes then he looked down as a hand gently touched his arm.
"My apologies, Mr. Monk. Those weren't his instructions."
Adrian looked up into the sympathetic eyes of Joseph Keita who sat in Mallory's former seat.
"Dr. Keita – what? What is happening?" he asked. The door opened again and Mallory reappeared with a bottle of water. It wasn't Summit Creek but it was unopened and Monk's throat was parched so he took it from him. Keita turned to Mallory and asked him to leave.
"I'm sorry, I can't sir." Mallory stated. "I have my orders from the main office."
Keita shook his head. "Feds." He grumbled. Monk looked over at Mallory who was thin and pale and not at all the imposing figure he seemed when all he had was his voice to go on. Next, his eyes drifted to the door where he spotted the giant protestor who had confronted him the prior day. Looking at Joseph, he narrowed his eyes. "You're with those protestors?"
"No." Joseph stated. "I'm an agent for the Office for Human Research Protections at the Department of Health and Human Services, better knowing as the OHRP. We are here to investigate a case involving your doctor, Zola Ianovsky. And, we need your help."
Monk shook his head. "Oh, no. Not this time." He stated.
"Excuse me?" Joseph replied.
Monk looked at him angrily. "Every time I get on a case involving the feds, things go wrong. I'm not helping you this time. Besides, Natalie would kill me."
"Mr. Monk, I give my word that no harm will befall you!" Keita replied.
"Why should I believe you, when you've failed already?" Monk replied.
Keita cocked his head in confusion. "Failed? Are you injured?"
"We didn't hurt him." Mallory replied.
"You snuck up behind me and threw a bag over my head!"
"So?"
"A man with claustrophobia!" Adrian responded.
Mallory shook his head. "Your profile said you had phobias but nothing about claustrophobia."
"My profile?" Monk asked. "You've checked into me – that was quick."
"Wasn't hard to find." Mallory stated, walking to a desk. "You were Deputy Director of the FBI once upon a time – and a distant relative of the President."
"I should have known John was in on this." Monk stated.
"President Stoddard is not a part of this." Keita replied. "Not that he doesn't have jurisdiction. But, these sorts of issues are a part of our regular responsibilities. The President is not involved."
"Well, he is going to be involved when he finds out that you kidnapped me to question me."
"We only seek your help." Keita responded. "You have access that we don't have and, given your status as a detective can get us the information that we need."
Monk stood up from his chair in disgust and made his way to the door. "I already told you no. I'm not getting involved!"
"But we had a tip." Keita said.
"I don't care." Monk looked up at the giant and gave him a stare down that Natalie would have been proud of. The man took a step to the side but then was ordered by Mallory to again stand guard.
"GET OUT OF MY WAY!" Monk yelled. The giant shrugged then moved and Adrian reached for the door handle.
"It was from a young hospital worker named Kelsey Gifford, shortly before her death." Keita added. Monk closed his eyes.
Natalie pulled up at the House of Hope Learning Center at four-thirty, a full two hours before her scheduled appointment with Sharon Hope. She was anxious to see the facility, not only because of her concern that Adrian might balk at certain aspects of it; but also, because she herself wanted to make sure that the establishment was all that it was advertised to be. She wanted only the best for their son.
Parking her car in visitor parking, she walked down a smooth asphalt path flanked by baby-fine green spring grass and finely manicured flowering trees that grew like a canopy over the walk. A little further, she saw the school itself which made use of what at one point was a luxurious Victorian mansion owned by the family of one of Boston's industrial giants. In back of the mansion was another building, more modern in design but complimentary to the main center. The campus was busier than usual at that point as parents were beginning to arrive, bringing their children to dress rehearsal for that evening's practice. She stopped to take it all in.
The first thing that struck her was the normalcy of it all. Children and parents were entering the building together, some children in wheel chairs, others walking of their own volition. They were talking. Some were laughing. Some were complaining. A few were getting scolded for siblings picking on one another. But each family that she saw was a unit. It was not a case of the family and 'the disabled child.' Rather, it was just 'the family.' Regardless what sort of malady or challenge a child faced, he or she was just another member of the family and going to school together was as much a part of their life as was taking Lee and Abby to the grocery store or to the doctor - a fact that did much to ease any anxiety Natalie felt towards the road ahead.
Walking into the center, she followed some parents into an auditorium and took a seat towards the back. And, from there, she watched. She watched the children as they received specialized attention regarding their own parts and much praise when they got it right. She watched the parents as they proudly observed their own children's progress. She watched as one child became very anxious and somewhat combative over leaving his mother's side but saw his demeanor change completely when his favorite teacher approached. He ran to the teacher and then came back to his mother and apologized for how he had behaved, giving her a hug before going to put on his costume for the play. The teacher and mother exchanged pleasantries and Natalie heard the mother describe how much improvement she had seen in his behavior since arriving at the center. The teacher nodded and smiled. "We're getting there." she stated before leaving to join her pupil.
While Natalie was there, the teachers all exhibited a tenderness and love towards their students that the kids were very responsive to. She knew if Adrian were there that many of his fears would be relieved. This was no abusive "institution." To the parents and students this school was an extension of home.
Back in Boston, Monk had retaken his seat as Joseph told him all about the case.
"Yesterday, I wasn't sure who you were." Keita said. "I thought you were another one of the doctors. You had on the lab coat and all."
Monk looked over at the tall man. "Well, one of the protestors threw water in my face and got me soaked."
The tall man chuckled. "That was Sam."
Keita looked over at the man and raised his eyebrows. "So, that's why she had to go to jail?"
The man nodded but Keita just shook his head.
"You say you're part of the government." Monk said. "What is your relationship to the protestors?"
Keita grimaced. "The OHRP began as a response to the abuse of disabled Americans through medical experimentation. Regulations were lacking and some horrific things occurred. Times have improved, for certain; but regulations can still be somewhat lax with the government tending to issue warnings or recommendations more than sending anyone to jail. What our informant said was occurring at General may change that as there is an international consensus growing that frowns upon certain uses of CRISPR-CAS9."
"You're talking germline editing." Monk inquired.
"That's what we believe it was about. Ms. Gifford called the FDA who referred her call to us. She spoke with one of our agents and told them that they had experienced a rash of thefts of genetic material from the lab and that she overheard Ianovsky mention something to a woman one day about hopefully having been able to avert a particular genetic illness in her unborn child that ran in her family. Of course, to date, there are no cures for these types of diseases though many geneticists have fantasized that they can use CRISPR to change that."
"So, you suspect that Ianovsky is experimenting with embryos then using invitro fertilization to impregnate women with the fruits of his labor."
"That is what Gifford seemed to be inferring. Which is why I went to the conference. Initially, the plan was for me to embed myself in with the medical community and get as close to Ianovsky and Neal as I could."
"You think Neal is involved too?" Monk asked.
"They do share an office, so it is possible. But, then again, much of Ianovsky's work may be being done off site. We simply don't know. It's entirely possible that, even though we know the two men are using CRISPR to try to defeat Myeloma, that Neal doesn't know about the rest of what Zola Ianovsky is up to at all."
"I see. So, what do you need me for?"
Keita leaned across the table. "Access. Mr. Monk. You already have the connections with these doctors that we crave and with your detective skills, you know how to search out the information that we will need to either confirm or deny what has been suspicioned. They won't question your appearing at their office as much – particularly after attending the CRISPR conference together. You are our best opportunity to uncover evidence in this case. After this week, it will become much more difficult to say the least. Will you help us?"
Monk sat quietly for a moment, thinking. On the one hand the very last thing he wanted to do was to be involved in anything involving the FBI ever again. His working relationship with them, with few exceptions, had only brought trouble to him and his family. On the other hand, he felt that Kelsey Gifford's death was somehow wrapped into this CRISPR caper and he knew that if he said no that it would likely remain unsolved. There was only one answer that he could give.
"I will help you. But, I work only with you – not with him." Monk said looking over at Mallory. Mallory moved forward in protest but was silenced when Joseph smiled.
"You've got a deal." He looked at his watch. "The conference should be wrapping up in a few minutes. What do you say we drive you back so that you can intercept Dr. Ianovsky before he goes home?"
Monk shook his head. "Let me text my wife. I was supposed to meet her somewhere tonight and I don't want her to worry."
"Very well. I will meet you at the car."
While Natalie watched the rehearsal, a woman in her early sixties with a trim figure and a kind face approached.
"Hi. My name is Sharon Hope. I'm the Administrator here at House of Hope. Are you visiting with one of the parents?" she asked, sticking her hand out to shake Natalie's. Natalie smiled and reached forth her hand. "I'm Natalie Monk. My husband and I have an appointment to talk with you today about the center." She tried to stand but her burgeoning belly got in the way.
"Oh, Mrs. Monk! I'm so happy to meet you! Please. Please, sit." Sharon said, taking the seat next to her. She looked around. "Is Mr. Monk nearby?"
"No." Natalie replied. "He had a conference today and was going to drive down separately. We're both very…"
Natalie's phone emitted the special tone that it did any time that he texted. "Oh, excuse me just a second." She read the message and took a deep breath. "Well, it looks it's just the two of us today." She said putting on a brave smile and trying not to show her disappointment. "Do you have time to show me around?"
"Certainly." Sharon replied. Natalie gathered her things and the two women made their way around the facility.
Drs. Ianovsky and Neal were standing in a group of men in the outside lobby of the conference center when Monk returned. Working his way through the sea of masked faces, the moment he appeared Dr. Ianovsky noted his presence with a gregarious gesture.
"Mr. Monk! There you are!" he said, waving him over. "Neal and I wondered where you went off to. You missed one of the better parts of the meeting."
"Oh?" Adrian said, joining the men as a few others dispersed.
"Yes." Neal said. "Dr. Zogby from the Government's Research and Development group gave a presentation on how they are using CRISPR to develop the ability to better do biosurveillance and detect pathogens faster than ever."
"They should be able to do around 100,000 specimens a day." Ianovsky said. "Which is a lot more than we've been able to do in the past. Should help us to avoid the spread of certain diseases into pandemics or even help stamp out elements of biowarfare before they have the opportunity to spread."
"That is – news." Monk said. "Sorry I missed it."
"Yes. So are we." Ianovsky said. "You didn't say where you went."
Monk thought for only a moment. "I just…I needed to go take a walk and get some fresh air. Still recovering. And, a wise doctor of mine…" he said, looking towards Neal. "Said I shouldn't overdo it."
Neal smiled. "Glad to see you're taking my advice. We were afraid something had upset you at the round table."
Monk paused. "There was a lot of food for thought there for sure. Especially the part about the Chinese scientists and the germline editing in the twins. To just throw caution to the wind like that and do something that could potentially affect the entire human race."
"Indeed. He was very reckless." Ianovsky responded.
"That's not possible here is it?" Monk asked.
"Anything is possible, Adrian. But any reputable researcher would take steps to make sure that such a thing could never happen." Ianovsky replied.
"Take steps?" Monk asked.
"Yes, embryos used for research purposes are to be destroyed." Ianovsky replied. "Which is a good thing since some of the experiments involve human-animal hybrids."
Monk shook his head. "Would you repeat that, human-animal hybrids?"
"That's correct."
"Why in the name of humanity would they do such a thing?" Monk asked, aghast.
"Organs." Neal replied. "Thanks to organ donor shortages, we're already creating animal-human hybrids - pigs with human blood, pigs with human organs."
Monk was horrified. "Is that even legal?"
"Depends. Sometimes, yes. Sometimes, no. Often yes, but not with government funding" Ianovsky said.
"Human-animal hybrids or chimeras are of course verboten." Neal added. Ianovsky nodded.
"That's stunning." Monk replied. "I have heard of chimeras in agriculture and botany, for example roses. But, humans?"
"It's more common than you think." Neal replied.
"It happens sometimes with twins." Ianovsky said. "Or with bone marrow."
"Or sometimes with mothers who absorb the cells of their own babies" Neal added.
"Fascinating!" Monk replied.
"Isn't it?" Neal responded. "One of the reasons I love genetics so much. The human body is just an incredible piece of machinery."
"It is an amazing design." Monk replied.
"Not entirely sure how we got off on that subject." Neal laughed. "Oh, yes. Embryonic research and human-animal chimeras. Not something I'm even remotely interested in pursuing. I'm more interested in curing cancer or even some diseases of the brain, such as Alzheimers."
"And I'm interested in it all." Ianovsky mused. "I'm not saying I'd ever do it, but wouldn't it be interesting to create your own 'humanimal' species?"
Monk looked at him in shock and Neal did as well. "It would be horrific." Neal responded. "I swear, Zola – sometimes I think we went to separate schools. Stick with Myeloma research, doctor. Don't go getting us in trouble with fanciful thoughts of hybrid humans."
"Wouldn't dream of it." Ianovsky said with a smirk.
"On that note..." Neal said, looking at his watch. "It's been great seeing you Mr. Monk. You're looking great. Now, I promised my ex-wife I'd pick our daughter up at six-thirty and I must be going. You two have fun."
"You do the same." Monk replied as he spotted Joseph making his way into the crowd. He refocused himself on the matter at hand. "So, Dr. Ianovsky. Do you happen to have some time to talk? You know, about what we were discussing yesterday - using CRISPR to, you know, address certain genetic disorders."
"Oh, yes. Your question about Down Syndrome?" Zola responded. "Yes, I have time. Why don't we go to my office where we can talk?"
Monk followed Ianovsky towards the exit and nodded towards Keita as they crossed paths. A small listening device had been planted just under his t-shirt and a van containing federal agents was recording it all outside. Joseph's job was to keep an eye on the detective and make sure that he stayed safe. It was a role he took very seriously.
Arriving in the office, Monk studied the layout of the suite where both doctors had their offices. They were positioned side by side. He considered the fact that they worked together daily and where they were stationed when not in a laboratory or working with patients and deduced that it would be next to impossible for one to be working on something nefarious without the other knowing about it. This led him to hypothesize that the majority of any possible illegal experimentation was taking place elsewhere. CRISPR research could literally be done anywhere, with 'CRISPR kits' being available for purchase by the general public online. As such, he wondered if snooping around the doctor's office might be a dead end.
Ianovsky unlocked his office door and Monk took a seat, mentally cataloguing each aspect of the office. Within a few minutes he knew which books were in the bookshelves, what degrees the doctor had and from where and even the fact that he had a fondness for Turkish coffee. But one other thing captured Monk's attention as he waited for the doctor to get situated - a stack of notes poking out from underneath a magazine. Monk could just barely make out the words at the bottom of the page in Ianovsky's own writing. Attempt to modify sequence failed. Host was destroyed. Suddenly, the visit didn't seem like a dead end after all.
"Would you care for some coffee?" the doctor said as he removed a demi-cup from his cabinet and began preparing his brew using the convection plate in his kitchenette.
"No thank you." Monk replied.
"That's right. You're a water guy." Ianovsky stated. "If you would like, I could run down the hallway and see if they have your favorite brand. Summit Creek, was it?"
"Yes. Summit Creek, but no thank you. I'm fine." Adrian responded. "You do what you need to do. I'll wait."
After a few minutes, Ianovsky walked to his desk with cup in hand and loosened his tie. Sitting at his desk, he made room for his cup then turned toward his laptop.
"So, you're interested in what they are doing for Down's?" Ianovsky stated turning on the machine. "For your, um…friend, was it?"
"Yes I'm - um….specifically interested in Mosaic Down Syndrome but Trisomy 21 may also be beneficial to know about since my friend isn't sure how heavily affected his son will be."
"Sure." Zola replied. "I read something in one of my user groups the other day. Let's just see if I can find it."
While Ianovsky logged into a technical website, Monk's eyes drifted to another area of the desk where more papers were uncovered as the doctor sat down. This time, an article.
Researchers at Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine (MD, USA) have demonstrated a new approach for transplanting brain cells. Their method exploits the immune system of the transplant receiver to ensure the cells are not rejected, without the need for immune-suppressing drugs.
"Oh, where is it?" Ianovsky complained as he worked his way through the system. "I ran into the paper just last week. It was an updated approach…if I could just lay my hands – wait, here it is!"
Monk watched as the doctor pulled an article from a medical journal up on the screen. Ianovsky scanned the page and then shook his head.
"It's from our Canadian friends. Researchers in Montreal have isolated a specific gene, RCAN1, which is overexpressed in fetuses with Down Syndrome. It's quite technical, but the basic discovery is the relationship for RCAN1 in the biological function of synaptic placidity which is essential for memory and learning. Knowing this relationship will undoubtedly give way to therapies for individuals with the syndrome in the future and tamp down some of the negative aspects of the condition such as cognitive learning difficulties."
Monk listened carefully. "But, no cure."
"No. None yet. I know that there were some researchers several years ago who were experimenting with turning off the extra gene – but, that was within germline cells and would prove very difficult to accomplish given that any 'cure' would literally have to affect every cell in the body – still, in time I'm sure it will be achievable. I believe that I have those papers somewhere on my computer."
"Would you mind printing them off for me?" Monk asked. "My friend wants to see all of the available data."
"I wouldn't mind." Ianovsky answered. "Or, I could just email them."
"No." Monk responded. "He doesn't do email very much. A paper copy would be best."
"Certainly." The doctor replied.
Ianovsky searched through his computer and found several articles and academic papers related to the information that Monk wanted, and Monk waited patiently for his chance to get alone in the doctor's office. Meanwhile, Reita stayed in contact with the FBI van who assured him that Monk was safe.
Finally, the doctor had accrued a decent amount of material to send home with Monk who secretly held out hope that there was something within the literature that the scientists had missed. He knew it was a longshot – but given the daily changing landscape in the world of genomics, it was worth a try.
"Okay, I think I've gathered a good sampling for your friend. Let me just hit print and I will be back with you in a few minutes."
Monk thanked the doctor and bounded up from his chair the moment he heard the outside office door shut. Rushing to the entryway, he confirmed the doctor was gone and quickly made his way to the notes he had seen earlier. They weren't at all what he was expecting.
PROGRESS TO DATE:
1) DNA was extracted from core specimen, obtained at auction from hair specimen with its follicle intact that was preserved by family for over 150 years and authenticated to be true by Smithsonian Institute. It was then sequenced, cloned and preserved in liquid nitrogen at Mass. Gen. Hematology Lab under the identifier ZI-AL-2017-3579H.
2) Single specimen was removed and CRISPRed into primate A's genome 4Sep18. Sample survived for 72 hours within host body. Primate subject died later that day due to rejection of specimen.
3) Subsequent insertions into primates have resulted in rejection issues. Study paused until anti-rejection mechanism can be discovered.
4) J.H. study provided path for T Cell eradication of rejection issue. Study recommenced.
5) Successful transplant of cells into primate who was permitted to live for 3 weeks. Showed increased cognitive ability through problem solving exercises. Monkey was euthanized at termination of experiment.
6) Human trial begins 5July2019. Cells extracted and CRISPRED with AL20173579H cells.
7) Initial insertion appears a success.
8) Mutations detected. Study aborted. Subject cremated in accordance with agreement. More work to be done.
Monk perused the document, looking at charts and diagrams and formulas that he understood from his days in college but he was hesitant to accept. But, when he opened up the magazine which accompanied the documentation he knew it was exactly what it sounded like. This was no germline experiment, but something far more sinister.
.
Hearing the door to the outer office open, Monk quickly replaced the documents and moved back into his chair. Ianovsky returned to the room with a handful of papers in hand.
"I think this will do it." He said, walking to his desk and passing the documents over to Adrian.
"Thank you, Doctor. You've been most helpful." He said.
"Any time. You've been one of my most interesting patients and I'm happy to help you."
"Well, I really do appreciate the help. If you don't mind, however, I had a meeting with my wife that I need to get to."
"Oh. I see. Well, give Mrs. Monk my regards." Ianovsky stated.
"I'll do that." Monk replied as he made his way out the door.
Adrian rushed out of the building and straight to the FBI van with Keita in tow.
"So, what did you find?" Mallory asked. "Is he doing germline research?"
"No." Monk replied. "Worse."
"Worse?" Keita asked. "What on earth is he into."
Monk looked at the team as one revealing a big secret. "He's trying to reanimate the dead."
An hour and a half later, the team had convened at headquarters where Monk explained how he had put his theory together. Ianovsky was using 150-year-old DNA that he CRISPRed and injected into his test subjects, who were, up until the last, primates. When his one human subject died from the experiments, he shelved the trials but given the presence of the documents in his office was no doubt continuing his research. His notes were attached to a magazine article from Science Today on how CRISPR is making it possible to resurrect long extinct species such as the Wooly Mammoth and the Passenger Pigeon.
Kelsey must have known about it all which is why she was killed. The only question in Monk's mind was how? Monk and Natalie had been there on the day of her death and were talking with Ianovsky just moments before she was found. He was in a patient's room at the time that David Ramos cried for help. It therefore, seemed impossible that Ianovsky had personally committed the crime.
Agreeing with his thoughts, the team developed a plan in which Adrian would revisit the doctor at his lab when his offices reopened on Monday morning. There he would find some way to keep him occupied while the FBI raided his office in search of the notes. The whole venture would be quick and would not involve Adrian placing himself into much danger. He left the meeting feeling good that perhaps he had the pieces needed to solve Kelsey's murder. She must have known about his experiments and was blowing the whistle on him. That is why she was killed. Of course, he needed more than that in order to pin it on the doctor directly. Hopefully he'd be able to find the clue that solved her case on Monday.
Arriving home at a little after nine, Monk parked the car and walked into the house anxious to tell Natalie about his day. At this point in time, he truly had buried his personal angst in favor of the case and therefore inquiring about her day was the furthest thing from his mind.
Entering the house, he hung up his coat and began shouting her name.
"Natalie! Sweetheart, come in here! I've got to tell you what I ran in to today."
Not hearing a response, he called out again even as he went to search for her. "Natalie – come…"
He stopped in his tracks and looked at his wife who was standing silently in the hallway. Tilting his head he looked at her confused.
"Natalie?"
Natalie's face was expressionless. "Lee and Abby are still with mom and dad. I told them that they could stay all night. My parents have no idea. Your dinner is in the refrigerator ready for you to heat up. And, I dropped your clothes off at the dry cleaner this morning. They should be ready for you on Tuesday."
"O-kay." He said slowly. "What's with the suitcase?"
Natalie raised her chin. "I'm staying with Julie for the next few days. I can't stay here with you."
"W-why?" he asked.
"Adrian, I know that the news about our son hit you hard and I've tried to be patient with you as you come to grips with that truth and let you pursue what you needed to pursue because I knew it was important for you to turn over every stone. Well, today was important to me. It was important to our son. And, you weren't there."
"Natalie – I can explain."
"I don't want an explanation, Adrian. I want you to face reality. Our son has a genetic defect and science is not going to 'fix' him. I know it's difficult for you. I mean, for the guy who loves things to be even, you now have a son whose chromosomes are uneven, so that may even be at play."
"He's Mosaic, so only some are uneven…"
"Some? All? What does it matter? This is serious, Adrian." She replied, tears whelming in her eyes. "In two months, our child is going to be here. He doesn't even have a name and he's going to have enough challenges in life without having to have one parent who can't accept him for who he is."
"Natalie…" he said, stepping towards her.
"No, Adrian. I need to go. I need to leave you alone with yourself so you can work through this on your own. I know you have it in you. You know the truth and you can get there. But, until you do, we will be spending some time with our daughter. I'm not angry with you. I am disappointed that you weren't there, but I'm not mad. I just need you to pull it together because this – whatever it is you are grappling with that is NOT reality – it's not going to work."
Monk stood there unsure of what to say.
"I love you, Natalie." He finally eked out. "And, I love our little boy. That's why I've been trying to help him."
Tears began to fall. "Darling, I've never doubted your love and you should never doubt mine." She said, walking to him and embracing him in a hug. "But we need more than love at this point. We need your acceptance and we need your strength."