A little peek inside Monk's head.
Damn it, he thought as he tossed in his exactingly made bed. It happened again. Natalie had stunned him with her knowledge and insight. He hadn't thought much of it the first time it had happened. It had been in the museum when they'd been working on her case. He, a consulting detective, hadn't really thought of her as anything other than another client or person in trouble. Still, her spunk and her humor cheered him—after months of depression from Sharona leaving, the second time had not been long after that when he and Natalie, along with Leland and Agent Grooms, had been stuck in that cabin. At the same time, he'd been an unwilling key witness to a gangland murder. That time, she asked Kathy Willowby if her husband's life insurance policy had a double indemnity clause, which pays double for an act of god. He was shocked by the fact that she knew about insurance. As far as he'd known at the time, she was a Naval widow and a bartender–former bartender, by then his assistant. Now that all these years had flown by, he knew just how many jobs she'd had, from croupier to assistant to a hotshot music producer—which hadn't lasted very long. She'd returned to him when he officially retired from the force; he smiled gratefully at that memory.
Today, however, for whatever time it was, she'd solved the case alone with just some insight and a hunch. It had been a tough one, and as she, Leland, Randy, and he sat in Leland's office trying to piece together clues and then later revisited the crime scene, Natalie finally had the wise and clever thought that gave them the answers they needed. So here he was, staring at the ceiling. Again. Just like all the other times this had happened. The time with the record producer, Denny Hodges. That time with fashion designer…the time with the theater critic John Hannigan. There were others as well. It impressed him each time she used her intelligence and innate hunches to lead her straight to the answers they sought, just like he did himself. Maybe that's why he felt a jolt in his heart each time it happened. It was as if a lightning bolt hit the organ each time it occurred. The electrical impulses in his body made the hairs on his arms stand up, and all the cells in him were wide awake and needy. This had been going on for years, but he'd always successfully squashed the feelings back into the furthest reaches of his mind and ignored them until they subsided–for the most part. They never truly went away altogether, but he hid them well. At least, he thought he did.
This time, though, it was different. The case had been particularly harrowing, and Natalie had gone above and beyond. He could still see her face, illuminated by the dim light of Leland's office, her eyes sparkling with the thrill of the chase, her mind working in ways that both baffled and enchanted him. He had tried to brush off the feelings, to tell himself that it was just admiration, just respect for a job well done. But as he lay there, staring at the ceiling, he couldn't deny it any longer.
He was in love with her.
The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. How had he been so blind? How had he not seen it before? Every laugh they shared, every quiet moment, every time she looked at him with those eyes that seemed to see right through him—it had all been leading to this. He loved her. He had loved her for a long time, and it scared him to death. His heart raced, his palms sweated, and his mind raced with a million thoughts. What if she didn't feel the same? What if he ruined everything by admitting his feelings? What if… what if she did feel the same?
What if she didn't feel the same? What if he ruined everything by admitting his feelings? What if… what if she did feel the same?
The thought sent a thrill through him, followed quickly by a wave of panic. He didn't know what to do, didn't know how to proceed. All he knew was that he couldn't keep pretending, couldn't keep lying to himself. He had to do something, had to say something, had to take a leap of faith and hope for the best.
But not tonight. Tonight, he would just lie there, letting the realization wash over him, feeling the weight of it, the truth of it, the beauty of it. Tomorrow… tomorrow, he would figure out what to do next.