The next morning, Natalie woke up and got ready for work. She hadn't tried to reach out to Steven and he hadn't tried to reach out to her, which was just as well since there was still some pent-up anger within her for the words he had spoken against Adrian. She tried to justify those feelings as to why she felt so offended over what he had said by saying to herself that anyone would want to stick up a friend; however, as she was getting ready for work that morning and pondering the whole situation, she knew it was more than that. She was offended because she knew the life that Adrian had lived heretofore had been plagued by people who had bullied and made fun of him, making him feel less than the wonderful man that he was. Knowing this, she felt protective of him and always had; and, for anyone to unfairly criticize him in any way was simply not acceptable – including Steven. But, as she stood that morning looking into her eyes in the mirror while applying mascara, she knew that it was even more than that. In fact, from a time shortly after she had met him, she had always known.

She loved him.

She loved him with more than the 'in love' feeling caused by that initial spark of attraction between a woman and a man that quickly passes away as the enthralled sees that their image of a person is merely an illusion and that the object of their affections is all too human. No, this love was no mere rush of hormones. It was deeper than that. Natalie loved Adrian Monk with full knowledge of his imperfections and with eyes wide open –knowing the good, and the not so good. She knew his stubbornness and his temper. She knew his tendency to be overly critical and complain. She knew his propensity towards pessimism and his proclivity to take her for granted – but, she loved him still, because she knew those blemishes on an otherwise stellar character were merely the scars that remained from his life-long battle over rejection, fear, and self-doubt.

When she saw him, she did not see the 'defective detective' but a man who was braver than most, having overcome more than most would experience in two lifetimes. She saw a man who loved deeper than most, was unquestionably smarter than most, and was a man of unqualified honor. And she did not take well to anyone who would try to characterize him differently. Very few people really knew Adrian Monk. But those who did, who had the patience to work past his 'flaws', were fiercely loyal. She was one of the few and despite becoming angry with him from time to time, she knew she always would be.

But beyond that, Natalie also knew that this love went beyond that of a loyal friend which was the scary part. Without even trying, Monk had captured a part of her heart that only her husband Mitch had possessed before; and yet, she felt that entertaining a relationship with him was futile because the only woman that he had ever shown deference to in that way had been Trudy. That was, until now.

Despite this, parts of what Steven said did resonate with her. Adrian had made so much progress over the past three years. He was almost like a different man. Did he really need her? He seemed to need her that afternoon at his apartment when he burned himself. Although, now that she had time to consider it, the fact that she had to break up her lunch date with Steven to go buy his groceries did feel a little manipulative. He could go out and buy her flowers, but he couldn't go to the store? It all left her feeling quite confused.

Arriving at his apartment, she found Monk already absorbed in his work.

"Mr. Monnnnkk…" she sang, slipping through the front door and into his apartment.

"In here." He mumbled, from somewhere deep within his home. Walking through the familiar door, she saw Monk seated with his back to her in a chair at his desk by the window. He had a pile of books on the desk that he had evidently been looking at for quite some time and was looking at a laptop screen with a notepad to his side on which he was taking notes. When her footsteps were heard on the hardwood floor inside the room, she noted that he hurriedly moved his hand towards his face and then back down towards his chest before resting it back on the desk. It appeared he stuck something in his shirt pocket underneath his sweater.

Walking up to him she rounded the corner to see what he was doing and held back a response as she saw his face. A tell-tale pink line across the bridge of his nose with two indentations on either side betrayed the fact that he had secretly gotten glasses, and his shifty behavior when she entered the room told her that he was trying to hide that fact. It's not that Adrian getting glasses was entirely a surprise. She had noticed him squinting and extending his arm as he tried to read in recent months; and he was fifty-three years old. But, they hadn't discussed it and she wouldn't dare suggest it knowing how sensitive he had become about his age since turning fifty. What amused her, however, was that while he was always meticulous about his personal grooming and hygiene, he never seemed vain. Why the display now?

"What'cha doin'?" she asked, coyly, moving further into his space and sitting on his desk.

He cleared his throat as he looked up and realized that she was wearing one of his favorite outfits, a grey pencil skirt with a powder-blue sweater and a simple silver chain. It was soft and feminine and she looked lovely in it. Her mid-length golden locks were styled in a very natural manner and her makeup was both natural and showcased her beauty. He found himself staring at her in awe.

"Mr. Monk? Hello?" she asked, trying to break him out of his gaze.

"Oh! Good morning, Natalie." He said, embarassed. "Um…I…was just trying to follow up on what Molly told us yesterday. Have been revisiting wars in the Balkans in the late 20th century and the refugee situation that came out of it. Trying to see if I can make any connections that make sense."

"Good luck there." She stated. "That whole area has been a mess for quite a while. When Mitch was stationed over in the Adriatic, he used to write home and tell me what he could about it. I still have the letters."

"Oh, you do? I'd like to see them sometime, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind. I have them put away in a travel trunk they sent back after he died. I'll try to look them up tonight."

After a brief pause, Monk turned back to his papers. "Well, I think your assessment is right - it is a mess. But these struggles go back centuries. Ethnic group versus ethnic group. The Ottoman Turks came in and it also became religion versus religion. There was a superficial unity after World War Two under Tito, but that unraveled as soon as he died and the various factions began to assert their autonomy. There are still very hard feelings and beliefs in the region to this day."

"Yes, I know there are. Makes a person wonder if it was worth it all." she said, sorrowfully. "So, did you find out anything interesting about Tahiri? And what about Rickover? Why was he so involved?"

"Those are two different tracks. I'm putting the Rickover connection to the side for now and trying to concentrate on Tahiri. I figure if we can understand what he was about, we might understand why Rickover became involved with him."

"That makes sense. So, what do we know about Tahiri?"

Pulling up a chair beside him for her to sit in, he turned to her and began to detail his approach. "Well, I'm like Molly and find it strange that he would still be receiving relief payments for the Albanians as late as 2008. I mean yes, they were displaced and many Albanians want to return to their homes, but there is tremendous pressure on them to assimilate where they are at. So, why would they be getting money to continue? So, I've asked Randolph down in research to run a check on the relief agency and its associations. Meanwhile, I'm making notes on the main players, names, dates, places in the conflict."

He held out a book and Natalie leaned in to see what it was he was showing her. "What are you finding?" she asked, her face being positioned mere inches away from his own. From this vantage point, he could smell her shampoo and…what was that perfume? Intoxicating! Again, his mind was distracted until she turned and faced him, causing him to drop his eyes, self-consciously. Natalie picked up on the reaction but wasn't sure what to make of it.

"W-well it's interesting." He said, quickly turning back to the book. "I found this notice displaying a photograph of Serbian President Slobodan Milosevic with a group of European leaders at a conference. That man right there is Tahiri." He said pointing at a man with slicked-back black hair, a mustache and glasses. "They look quite cozy."

Natalie furrowed her brow. "Wasn't Milosevic tried as a war criminal?"

"He was put on trial, but died before there was any conclusion. After the war ended investigators looked for the mass graves that were said to have existed and some of the atrocities may have been bit exaggerated, although that's not to say that Milosevic was innocent. There were no sides to the fighting that were pure as the driven snow. Still, we do know Milosevic and his cohorts wanted to consolidate power and rule over one big country like Yugoslavia had been prior to its breakup and the breakup of the Soviet regime. He removed leaders and replaced them with those amenable to his policies. Those who opposed him wanted autonomy, but within their realms there were still many loyal to a union of nations. The KLA, a separatist militia that existed in the region was first declared a terror group by the U.S. and was known to have had dealings with other groups such as Al Qaeda; however, despite that declaration, the U.S. eventually fought alongside them on the side of independence against the Serbs."

"I remember Mitch talking about them. He had mixed feelings given our earlier stance. And from what we know about Tahiri at the time Rickover knew him, he was raising money for the people on that side – the separatists, not Milosevic and the Serbs." She replied. "So, when did he switch?"

"I'm not seeing where he did." Monk answered.

Natalie looked confused and Adrian let her process the statement for a moment until she squinted her eyes and seemed to get what he was inferring. "Do you mean he was playing both sides?" she asked.

"That's what it looks like." He replied, with a satisfied nod. Turning to his computer, he pulled up a weblink and turned the screen towards her. "Here. Here are some recently declassified documents mentioning Tahiri as being one of the diplomats the that the U.S. was dealing with during the Kosovo War. He provided our side with information and publicly was photographed with KLA leaders on multiple occasions. Again, with a very friendly countenance. The photo with Milosevic, indeed – photos (plural) - are also dated to within that period of time as well, and newspaper articles at the time placed him on the side of the Serbs."

"So you think he was a double-agent?" she asked.

Monk nodded. "That would make sense. Though I think the only way he could be doing that is if both sides thought that was what he was doing on their behalf."

"Kind of like Garbo the Spy?" She replied with a grin.

"Exactly." He smiled back at her for her knowledge of the World War Two secret agent, Juan Pujol Garcia, who played spy for both the Germans and the Allies. Garcia had been so effective in his ruse that he won awards for his effort from both sides. Monk had insisted on watching a documentary on him at Natalie's house a few months prior, but thought that it bored her. Apparently, he was wrong.

He turned and pick up one of the books. "Here, read this part." He said as he handed her the book.

Natalie took the book in her hands but then smirked as a devilish thought crossed through her mind. She passed it back. "You read it for me." She stated, leaning in.

Monk paused and looked slightly uncomfortable, then nervously took the book from her hand. Looking back and forth between her and the book several times, he squinted then stretched out his arms as he struggled to read the text. After a few painful moments of watching him fumble over the words, she grinned and reached into his pocket for his glasses and held them out.

"Here. These might help." She replied with a wink.

Monk looked over at the glasses and then back a her with look that was both mildly irritated and slightly amused. Rolling his eyes, he lamented, "I can't get by with anything."

She giggled. "No, Adrian. You can't."

He grinned at the use of his first name, liking it when she was in a flirty mood like this. Putting the glasses on, he went back to reading and pointed out an article in the historical almanac for 1999 that stated.

"Milosovic and his allies are seen here in Belgrade in 1998 discussing war movements and strategies for suppressing the rebellion in the Slavic states of Bosnia, Croatia and parts of Lower Serbia."

"That's when Mitch was there." She stated, looking pensive.

Monk stopped. "Oh. I'm sorry. I hadn't made the connection that revisiting this could be hard on you."

"No." she replied. "I have always wanted to know whatever I could about the war and what he was involved in, particularly after…well, what I told you about and his - desertion. Mitch was always such a patriot. What could have happened to make him turn?"

Sensing her vulnerability at that moment, Adrian put down the book and reached out his hand, touching her arm ever so softly. "I never talked to you more about it, because I know it is painful for you." Monk responded. "But have you found out anything more about what happened there?"

"No. Not really." She replied. "I asked Steven to ask his superiors to look into it a couple of years ago, but with all the red tape, he wasn't able to determine anything else – other than the fact that the two guys, those who said Mitch took all their supplies, are both dead. One died in a car accident in 2001 and the other drowned in 2009. Whatever they knew died with them. So, I'll probably never know."

Monk shook his head. "I'm sorry."

"That's okay." She replied. "I just choose to remember the good man I knew and chalk up whatever happened to the fog of war."

"Fear is a very powerful motivator. It can cause you to do things you never would under normal circumstances…or…" he looked up at her, studying her face for a moment. "…or keep you from doing and saying exactly what you want."

Natalie's eyes explored his and she was about to ask him what he meant when once again the sound of a cell phone interrupted the moment. This time, it was hers.

"Sorry. I need to answer this. It's Steven." She stated, looking away. Monk continued watching her quietly as she nervously fidgeted with her hair and spoke with Albright. It appeared they were having a disagreement.

"Steven, I'm working. Can we discuss this later?... Yes, you should apologize. You have the situation all wrong… What?...No…No…Of course not. Listen, I think this is something that we need to talk about later. Lunch?" she asked, looking over at Monk who lowered his eyes. "Not today. We're too busy. Okay, fine...dinner. My place? Um…okay. Sure. I'll see you at seven. Alright. Yeah. Me too. Bye."

Returning to Monk's side, Natalie pulled up a chair but seemed distracted. Looking over at her, he brushed her hair away from her face then patted her shoulder.

"Everything okay?" he asked softly.

Natalie stared straight ahead at the screen. "Yes. It's okay. Steven and I...well, lets just say we had a disagreement."

"He wasn't disrespectful to you, was he?" Monk asked, tilting his head. "'Cause if he was…"

Natalie's lips curled into a smile and without thinking she reached out and touched his knee. "You'll what?"

"That's for me to know." He replied. "He may be ten years younger than me, but pretty boys like that haven't had to scrap around much…they don't know what it's like to deal with ruffians."

"Ah…I see. And you're a ruffian?" She said, moving her hand to his back where she softly caressed it.

"No!" Monk said in exasperation. "But I've dealt with them. Plenty. He has no clue."

Natalie smiled. "Well, you're right about that. Steven hasn't really had to do much in the way of hand-to-hand combat. Even when he served with Mitch he never went out. Mitch took to the air and Steven stayed behind and sewed people up if they were injured. He's been on a boat or sub his whole career."

"Exactly. Most combat he's probably seen is fighting porpoises." He responded dryly.

Natalie snorted, and Adrian flashed his dimples at having made her laugh.

"Perhaps a bit more than porpoises. But nothing like my brave Mr. Monk." She responded, squeezing his bicep. For once, he didn't recoil.

"Exactly." he continued. "In fact, I'll bet he hasn't the slightest clue at how to play keep away."

She laughed again and he looked up at her and smiled.

"That's what I like to see." He said and she blushed. "Say, Natalie…I gather from the phone call that you're going to have company this evening."

"That's right." She said.

"Then I call dibs on lunch." He replied, his eyes flashing a certain hopefulness at her answer.

Natalie was pleased. Lunch would be nice. "Really?" she asked.

"Yes. I need to run over to the courthouse and sign off on some papers related to the Steubens' murder then I had something I wanted to do once that is complete. I would like it if you would accompany me."

"I would like that very much." she said shyly.

At the courthouse, Adrian looked through the papers from the investigation reading through each element as they explained to the court what had happened. The daughter had apparently had another one of her blackouts – not having remembered anything which followed; but, according to Mrs. Steubens' testimony, her daughter had never gotten along with her step-father in any case and was frequently physical towards him- throwing things, scratching at him, and doing anything she could to keep him away.

Mrs. Steubens indicated that she would keep her daughter cordoned off in one area of the house when she wasn't around so that she wouldn't get into mischief; but, somehow she had gotten out into the main area of the house and then the office where she got ahold of her gun and shot the man dead.

It all made sense, until he saw the girl's photograph. The woman looked very young, as if she were in her early teens, though Monk knew she was older. She wore no makeup and her short-cropped hair, t-shirt, and oversized jacket made her appear almost masculine. She also had tattoos of something along her neck that took up a great amount of real estate on her skin. With a pen in one hand and the photograph in the other, he sat back for a moment and thought.

Natalie, who had been sitting patiently off to the side waiting for him to finish noticed the changed expression on his face.

"What is it?" she asked.

Monk was quiet for a bit longer then looked over at Natalie, disturbed. "She's not the guy."

"Steubens' step-daughter isn't the one who killed him? Then who?" she asked. "And why would a mother implicate her own daughter?"

"I don't know. But she's not the guy. Look at the way she's dressed. This isn't a girl who wears designer clothes – at least not the high-end stuff we saw with the button. It wasn't the mother and it wasn't the daughter. Someone else killed that man. So why would she lie?" He said almost to himself. Gathering his papers back together, he stood up and began walking towards the door.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"I want to find out more about that mother."

While Natalie drove them to another out-of-the-way restaurant overlooking the Bay, Monk called Randolph and added a search on Nadia Steubens to the list of things he wanted him to look up. He didn't usually work two cases at once, but given that the case for Molly was more of a side effort to please his step-daughter, he decided to prioritize the murder of the banker over finding out what happened in Eastern Europe over a decade prior. When he hung up the phone, he reiterated to Natalie that there was something else he wanted to do with her before the end of the day, something he was clearly excited about which piqued her curiosity. After they finished eating, he instructed her to go to Van Ness Avenue. He would tell her where to turn off once they arrived.

Following his instructions, she soon found herself pulling into the parking lot of the local Toyota dealership. Parking the car, she looked at him awaiting an explanation. None was forthcoming.

"Come on, let's go." He stated, excitedly taking off his safety belt and reaching for the handle of the car door.

"Go where?" she asked. "Is there a new case you haven't told me about?"

"No." he responded. "No new case."

"Then why are we here?"

"I'm going to buy a car."

She shook her head. "uhwhat-? You're going to buy a car?"

"That's right."

"But you don't have a license."

"Incorrect."

Natalie rapidly shook her head again. "Since when?"

"Since last week." He stated, reaching into his pocket for his wallet and pulling out a newly minted California State Driver's license and handing it to her. "Why do you think I suddenly wound up wearing glasses?"

"You got your license?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes."

"In secret?"

"Correct."

"But I thought you said they wouldn't give you a license."

"Not without taking my test again."

"Which you did?"

"I got my license, didn't I?"

She laughed with amazement. "Unbelievable!"

"I don't know why you're so surprised." he stated, sitting up proudly in his seat. "I am perfectly capable of driving."

"Apparently, so." She replied, looking him up and down.

He waited for a few seconds for her to make a move then impatiently motioned for her to go. "So, are you coming?" he asked.

"What did you want me to do?"

"Help me pick one out." He replied, sitting back in his seat. "I don't know what to get. You know all about that sort of thing."

Natalie smiled as she considered how much confidence he had in her. Here he was about to spend thousands of dollars on a vehicle, but he was leaving the choice, at least partially, up to her. But, as soon as the smile graced her face it disappeared as she remembered Steven's comments.

Monk opened his car door and began to step outside but stopped when he saw that she wasn't moving.

Closing the door again, he leaned back in his chair then looked over at her. She looked sad. "What's wrong?" he asked.

She paused for a moment, worried about giving away too much of what was causing her angst but needing to know where she stood. Biting her lip with uncertainly, her anxious eyes looked over at him. "Nothing. It's just…"

"It's just what?" he asked.

She paused a moment more, her face moving in inscrutable ways as Adrian anxiously waited.

Finally, she continued. "It's just...well, if you're going to start driving…where does that leave me?"

"Huh?" he asked, genuinely confused.

"Well, if you start driving...you...you won't need me anymore." She responded.

Monk's expression switched from confusion to surprise. "Of course, I will." He replied.

"No. You don't use me for wipes like you used to and really, driving was my main duty."

"What? You're saying you can't ride shotgun?" he asked.

"Well, sure. I can. But…what will I do?" she asked.

He smiled. "Trust me, Natalie Teeger…I have plenty of plans in this noggin of mine for your future role, and it won't entail handing me wipes. At least, most of the time…unless I need them…okay, maybe it won't include just handing me wipes…but, you catch my drift."

"You have plans?" she asked.

"Yes." He responded. "You're more than an assistant. You have been for some time. It's time that we re-imagine your role in my organization."

"Your organization?"

"Indeed. What was it you called it, A. Monk – Private Investigations?" he asked.

She smiled. "I thought you forgot about that."

"How could I forget about it? I still have ninety-eight business cards to get rid of." He answered.

"Nuh-uh! You're kidding!" she said, shoving him with her hand.

"Do I kid?" he asked.

"Well..no…" she replied. "But, those business cards don't even have the right address on them."

"Maybe they do." He said. "Maybe I rented that office all over again."

"Get out!" she exclaimed, shoving him again.

"Okay." Monk replied, then immediately opened the car door and began to exit. Grabbing him by the sleeve she pulled him back in. "It's just an expression. I didn't literally mean for you to get out of the car."

"Oh." he replied, making a mental note of the new 'hip' phrase of the day.

"So you're telling me that you went and got your drivers license, are about to purchase a car, rented that office that we had the detective agency in and are about to start your own agency again?"

"Yeah. That pretty much covers it. At least, for now." He replied.

"Okay. Where's the real Mr. Monk?" she asked. "You look like him. You sound like him. But, you can't be the real Adrian Monk."

"It's me, Natalie. Or, at least, it's the new me. I'm transforming." He replied. "And, I've decided it's time to make some changes in my life. Changes that will make me happy. Life is too short. Enough living in the defeats and pain of the past. It's time to move forward."

"Wow! That's…amazing. Incredible." She replied. "Congratulations!"

"It's long overdue. But…that said." He spoke softly and looked deeply into her eyes in such a way that she immediately had to swallow. "I'm still me. You know I can't move forward without you."

Natalie's heart sped up. What was he saying? Before she could say anything more, he tugged on her sleeve and reopened his car door. "So, are you going to help me pick out a new car or are we going to just sit in your SUV and look at them all day?"

She smiled broadly even as she tried to take in all that he had laid on her that afternoon. "We're going to go! Here's to moving forward."

"To moving forward." he said, waiting for her to join his side and offering her his arm to hold onto as they walked towards the dealership.

"Now this is what I call a red letter day, Mr. Monk." she smiled as they moved towards the showroom entrance.

"Adrian." He responded, reaching over and placing one hand over hers as it was wrapped around his sleeve. She looked at him with wide-eyed innocence and he explained. "Golden boy isn't around today, so again, I'd prefer you call me Adrian."

She looked down, bashfully towards her feet then back up at his sparkling brown eyes. "Okay, my dear Adrian. Let's go get your car."