Joy exists, Adrian (6.10)

(At the department store, while buying gifts)

Natalie and Monk were walking arm-in-arm in the department store. Monk had prepared a list, organized by type, size and number, which described everything they needed to buy. Fortunately – depending on whose view – Monk was exceedingly cheap that season and did not want to buy much. Natalie wondered whether he would even buy Julie a gift. Given who he was, she shouldn't get her hopes up.

They passed by a fellow shopper who stared at Monk with an angry look. Monk twitched with discomfort, and stood there affixed. Natalie stepped in and dragged Monk away before the situation unraveled. She was concerned for her boss, and did not want him to go out in public so often. She hoped the rest of the day could end quickly and smoothly.

"Natalie, that woman was staring at me. Is there something wrong with me?" Monk asked.

"Mr. Monk, nothing is wrong with you. Just ignore her," Natalie replied.

"I told you before. These people forgot the true meaning of Christmas. What's there to like about the holiday anyway? I mean, think about it, does Santa Claus really exist? Really, think about it. It's like believing airplanes can fly with all that metal, except even stranger."

"Mr. Monk, Christmas is joyful. It's not just about Santa Claus. I'm sure you remember your Christmas when you were a kid. Ok, maybe not. It's about spending time with your loved ones and being joyful," Natalie emphasized with a wide smile.

Monk looked at Natalie and smiled back. He had grown to love her smiles. She smiled more as the Christmas season approached, notwithstanding his "shooting" Santa Claus. If there was something about Christmas that Monk loved, it was her smile.

"But Natalie, here's the thing. I don't have any family or loved ones. Ambrose can't leave the house, and dad is so far away. And there's no such thing as joy," Monk commented. He raised an index finger to prove the point, and added, "The only joy is from cleaning and finishing my vacuuming. Speaking of which, we need to finish shopping and I have to vacuum my vestibule soon."

Natalie rolled her eyes. There was no point in convincing Adrian Monk of doing things or seeing them differently. For a man who had suffered so long – ten years to be exact – he was so stubborn about keeping the good things in life out of mind. She knew she would have to try harder to let him see the joy around him, especially that involving her and Julie.

(After Monk's disastrous home interview with the reporter)

Monk bit off another Santa cookie after the TV reporters left his house. He was staring straight ahead, away from anybody or anything. The interview had gone worse than he thought. Now, it seemed more likely that a grand jury would indict him. Additionally, he told every child that Santa Claus did not exist. Once he said it, he felt something was wrong. Looking at Natalie and Julie confirmed his fears. Monk just wanted to crawl up in bed and stay away from the rest of society, for however long it took. By now, maybe it wasn't worth paying Dr. Kroger for his therapy sessions anymore.

Natalie approached Monk with a glass of orange juice. She saw how the interview affected her boss. She wished that she could have dissuaded him from talking to the vile reporter, or at least tried harder. Now, Monk was more disappointed in himself, perhaps doubting who he was. She was worrying that he would slip back to a catatonic state.

"Mr. Monk, please drink this juice. Don't think so much about the interview. You knew they made up most of it anyway. Here, take this," Natalie commanded as she handed the juice.

Monk barely moved. He sat on the couch like a statue. His eyes were focused on a picture of Trudy in the distance, and barely rolled or blinked. His arms were folded at right angles, but tenser than the contours of his face when the reporter showed the gun piece. He refused to acknowledge Natalie or the glass of juice.

"Mr. Monk, you can't let yourself get bogged down by this. That reporter, you know who she is. She's a dirtbagger, a muckraker. She just finds truths, and twists them into something nasty about people. Look, I don't believe her; I believe you. I don't think you would shoot Santa Claus, and think you should do your best to prove yourself innocent. I trust you and believe in you, but you have to believe in yourself first."

Monk turned and looked at Natalie. With an unreadable face, he said, "Thank you, Natalie. But it's hopeless. I should just go out of town, to an island, and live my life there." He groaned again and looked away.

Natalie forced him to turn around, and looked at him in the eye. "Look at me, Adrian. You're not a quitter. You are a great detective. You can't let this reporter discourage you. I cannot work or love a quitter." Making sure Julie wasn't in the room at the moment, "Mitch was a quitter, supposedly, and that's something I cannot tolerate in me, or others."

Monk looked at her quizzically. That was the second time in a week that she said that she loved him. He did not want to think about she meant by that. He hoped that she did not love…love him in that way. He could not love her like that, especially since he had Trudy. Could he?

Feelings confused, Monk picked up the glass and drank a sip of juice.

(Christmas Eve)

Natalie snapped the picture. It was a picture-perfect moment with Adrian Monk sitting back, smiling and chewing a Santa cookie. Natalie and Julie flanked him, each of them smiling and looking at the camera. It was an unusual picture in two respects: Adrian Monk was smiling (!), and he looked carefree in his own world. Natalie was determined to put that picture up on his and their mantels.

Setting everything down, Natalie looked at the man lying on the couch. For anyone who knew Adrian Monk, the scene would immediately appear out of place: he was smiling; the Christmas hat was askew on his head; his socks were rolled up to different heights; he seemed relaxed. Natalie, nonetheless, was hardly bothered. She had been so used to him and his quirks that the current state was a welcoming relief. She hoped he would find time to relax, and not live in a rigid shell. Like the turtle sticking his head out the first time, Adrian Monk finally saw the world without his primrose glasses.

"What are you feeling? Come on, tell me. I can read your face. You are hiding something," Natalie asked.

Monk turned toward her without opening his eyes. "I don't know Natalie, but it's a good thing. I don't want to open my eyes."

"It's joy. Isn't it? You're feeling joy. Joy exists, Adrian."

Monk smiled and nodded imperceptibly. He thought about the events of the past week: shooting Santa Claus; the public ostracizing him; his interviewing so disastrously; following the "money"; his saving the day at the end. Ever since Trudy's tragic death ten years ago, his life had been a bumpy ride. Most of it had the making of a tragic story, but there was light at the end of the tunnel. He had a feeling that he would get closer to solving Trudy's murder. Things were definitely looking better.

He opened his eyes and saw Natalie sitting beside him on the armrest. Earlier, he would have deemed her too close for comfort, but hardly minded her this time. She was smiling at him, likely feeling happy that he had realized joy, but also galvanizing about her winning again.

"You look happy, Natalie. Do you want a hug?"

Natalie looked at Monk stunned. Did he just offer her a hug? That seemed so unusual. Although she was closer to him than anybody else, she did not expect him to initiate a hug. Or, perversely she thought, did he mean the hug to dispel her happiness? Natalie scowled at that last thought.

She nonetheless leaned into him and sat beside him on the couch. It felt so strange, but his body provided her with warmth that the fire and lighted atmosphere could not. Natalie hugged him more, and tucked her head beside his. She was surprised at he hardly flinched. Not that she was complaining, because he was a natural cuddler. She could get used to this.

Monk, meanwhile, wasn't thinking straight. He did not know why he offered to hug her, or let her sit with him on the same couch. For some reason, the feeling was nice and hardly repulsive. He leaned into Natalie more, and wrapped his arm around her body. He was worried that she would feel cold or fall onto the floor. Surprised at his own concern, he let her move closer and his thoughts drift off.

Julie came back from her text session with her best friend. She stood in awe at the sight: her mom and her boss sitting and cuddling on the same couch. They were both still and looking straight on. The fact that Adrian Monk hadn't jumped up and into the shower was most surprising. Julie took out her camera and prepared to take a picture from the back.

Snap!

Adrian and Natalie turned around. Nobody was there. They looked at each other, once, twice and again. Each of them wondered why the other person hadn't moved, and how Julie took a picture and got away so quickly. They just could not, nor wanted to, articulate their thoughts. With a tacit nod, they turned back and blended in with the Christmas Eve silent night.