La Vie En Rose
TITLE: La Vie En Rose
AUTHOR: honor_reid
FANDOM: Monk
PAIRING: Adrian Monk/Natalie Teeger
GENRE: Het
PROMPT: ?. ?/?. Vinyl records
RATING: PG
WORD COUNT: 1689
SUMMARY: Monk stops by Natalie's house when he can't get a hold of her by phone. He ends up making several revelations about his assistant and about himself. (Post Series Finale)
WARNINGS: None
NOTES: This was written for the comm older_not_dead. Also stories_a_z prompt L. Many, many thanks to my beta for this story lanalucy. Prompt table can be found here. I used this translation for the lyrics to the song La Vie En Rose. It is a great song please give it a listen here, if it has been awhile since you've heard it.
DISCLAIMER: 'I don't own these characters, nor am I making any money from them. I merely borrow them from time to time'.
Using his sleeve to close the taxi door, Monk stepped out onto the curb directly in front of his assistant’s home. Climbing up the stairs of Natalie’s house, he stopped on the top step as his ears picked up music playing behind the closed front door. Although loud, the sound was muffled. He wondered if Natalie was having a party, but dismissed that idea as she had not mentioned anything yesterday. Today was Saturday and it was Natalie’s day off but Monk was concerned about her. He had tried to call her earlier about a case they had been working on he’d had a breakthrough and needed her to come pick him up, but there had been no answer. After the third time of trying by phone, Monk had actually called a taxi to check on her. Knocking on the door Monk nervously took out his handkerchief and proceeded to wipe a smudge off the window as he waited.
Straightening the mailbox, Monk replayed a conversation he had had with the Captain a few days ago. For the last few months he had found himself extraordinarily concerned about Natalie, what she was doing, where she was going, how she was feeling. He had noticed things about her that he usually wouldn’t. He had observed that Natalie had gotten a new hair cut. Normally that would be all he would have noticed, but now Monk saw how the blonde hair curled softly towards her face and drew his attention to her smile. He had tried to explain it to the Captain but the man had just laughed and said it was about time. Monk had just stared at him till the Captain had waved him off saying that he would figure it out.
Ringing the doorbell Monk felt his concern growing as there continued to be no answer. Unsure of what to do next, Monk finally tried the door handle and was surprised to find it unlocked. Letting go of the handle Monk debated whether he should go in, but in the end he slowly pushed the door open and peeked his head around the door calling out, “Natalie?”
Receiving no reply he tried again, “Hello…Natalie?” He wasn’t surprised by the lack of response the music was very loud. Now that he was inside, Monk recognized Edith Piaf’s “La Vie En Rose.”
As he turned the corner, Monk was confronted by a room in disarray. There were papers all over the coffee table and spilling onto the floor. Vinyl records were strewn about with an empty wine bottle lying on its side in front of the record player. Although Monk’s fingers itched to start cleaning, it was the sight of Natalie standing with her back to him that really caught his attention. She was dressed in the same white shirt and blue jeans she had been wearing the night before, a half empty wine glass in her right hand, red wine sloshing dangerously close to the rim as she swayed slowly to the music. Monk was puzzled by what he saw Natalie was not a heavy drinker but even from across the room he could see she was intoxicated. As the music ended he heard the telltale scratch of the record player hitting the middle of the record, and there were a few moments of silence before the needle hit the edge of the 45 and started playing the song again. As Edith warbled the opening lines, Natalie slowly swayed in a circle until she faced him. Her eyes were closed, tear-tracks staining her cheeks; her left hand was clutching a piece of paper in a fist over her heart. She seemed to be mumbling something as she “danced” to the music.
Monk felt like he was intruding on a very private moment, and he was pretty sure Natalie would not want him to see her like this, so he slowly started to back out of the room. He was almost to the hall when she opened her eyes and stopped moving. They stared at each other for what seemed like forever.
Natalie always seemed so upbeat; she had a spark to her, a feistiness. There was no optimism in her eyes now though, no joy. Her eyes seemed to carry within them only sorrow and old pain. Monk stopped his retreat and waited to see what Natalie wanted him to do. He was surprised by her request.
He watched as Natalie set the wine glass down on the edge of the coffee table, Monk ignored the urge to rescue the glass and instead kept his eyes on his friend. She held out her hand and said, “Dance with me.”
It was a demand rather than a question. Monk doubted he had it in him to refuse her even if she had asked. There had been a fragile desperation to her tone, a vulnerability that even he could hear. He took her hand in his and drew her toward him until his right hand could circle her back. Monk tried to keep a space between them, not wanting to make her uncomfortable, but Natalie moved forward until she rested her head on his chest. He should have been ill at ease with her this much in his personal space but instead it felt oddly right to hold her in his arms. He slowly turned them in a circle, his hand holding hers as they danced in the fading light seeping through the window.
Monk was so wrapped up in the moment he almost jumped when Natalie spoke. “This was our song…Mitch and me would dance to it over and over again,” she said in a whisper. Looking up at him she said “I loved the lyrics so much I memorized the translation and would sing them to him while we danced” Monk smiled softly and she laid her head back on his chest.
Natalie started to sing along with the song, her voice a rough whisper, “He has entered into my heart. A piece of happiness the cause of which I recognize. It’s him for me, me for him in life. He said that for me and swore to me forever.”
On the word forever Natalie’s voice broke and she stopped singing. Monk understood this, the pain she was going through, so he kept them swaying to the music hoping he was providing some comfort, or at the very least letting Natalie know she was not alone. They had danced through the song once more when Monk felt her grow heavier in his arms. Glancing down Monk noticed that Natalie was asleep on her feet. Bending down he lifted Natalie and carried her bridal style over to the couch. Laying her down on the couch, Monk then took the afghan off the back of the couch and covered her up with it. Natalie shifted once but then seemed to sink into the cushions as the alcohol and exhaustion finally caught up to her.
Walking over to the record player, Monk almost turned off the stereo but then glancing back at Natalie, he left it playing and instead just turned it down. Maybe the music would help her dream of better times with her late husband.
Monk proceeded to straighten up the living room, putting the records back in the cabinet and the wine glass and empty bottle in the kitchen. Returning to the coffee table he started to pick up the papers in front of it when he noticed they looked like official military reports with large sections blacked out, apparently classified. On the coffee table partially buried under a yellow legal pad with meticulous written notes, was a map of Kosovo. Monk did the best he could to put the papers back in order as he placed them on the table. Natalie’s death grip on the document she had held onto while they danced in had relaxed and the document had fallen to the floor. Picking it up, Monk saw it was a letter addressed to Natalie
“Mrs. Teeger,
As we have explained on many previous occasions both by mail and in person we will not reopen your husband’s case until new evidence is presented that would warrant such a response…”
The letter went on to express their sympathy, all in all a mere paragraph in length. Looking over at Natalie, Monk understood what had brought on this evening’s despair. He also finally realized what he was looking at on the coffee table was Natalie’s version of a case file, like the one he put together for Trudy’s death.
Sitting down heavily in a chair situated next to the couch with the case file in his lap, Monk looked over at Natalie and noticed how her hair had fallen over her eyes, so he reached over and gently smoothed it behind her ear so that it wouldn’t bother her as she slept. As he withdrew his hand, Monk became aware that he could still feel the phantom warmth of her skin on his fingertips. And it was in that moment he finally understood what the Captain had intimated just a few days before.
He was in love with Natalie.
A rush of joy went through him at the thought, then the documents that weighed had nearly nothing a moment before felt like a stone in his lap, reminding him of reality.
Now was not the time for such revelations, Natalie needed Mr. Monk the detective, not Adrian Monk, the man who loved her. Monk allowed himself one more moment to revel in an emotion he’d thought he would never feel again before he ruthlessly pushed it aside and hid it from view.
Passing a hand over his eyes, Monk felt emotionally wrung out and unbelievably exhausted all of the sudden. He vowed to speak to Natalie when she woke up about allowing him to look over Mitch’s case and see if he could find that new evidence that she needed. Lying his head back, Monk closed his eyes and focused his thoughts on what he knew about the case, ignoring the ache in his chest just over his heart.
The End
AUTHOR: honor_reid
FANDOM: Monk
PAIRING: Adrian Monk/Natalie Teeger
GENRE: Het
PROMPT: ?. ?/?. Vinyl records
RATING: PG
WORD COUNT: 1689
SUMMARY: Monk stops by Natalie's house when he can't get a hold of her by phone. He ends up making several revelations about his assistant and about himself. (Post Series Finale)
WARNINGS: None
NOTES: This was written for the comm older_not_dead. Also stories_a_z prompt L. Many, many thanks to my beta for this story lanalucy. Prompt table can be found here. I used this translation for the lyrics to the song La Vie En Rose. It is a great song please give it a listen here, if it has been awhile since you've heard it.
DISCLAIMER: 'I don't own these characters, nor am I making any money from them. I merely borrow them from time to time'.
Using his sleeve to close the taxi door, Monk stepped out onto the curb directly in front of his assistant’s home. Climbing up the stairs of Natalie’s house, he stopped on the top step as his ears picked up music playing behind the closed front door. Although loud, the sound was muffled. He wondered if Natalie was having a party, but dismissed that idea as she had not mentioned anything yesterday. Today was Saturday and it was Natalie’s day off but Monk was concerned about her. He had tried to call her earlier about a case they had been working on he’d had a breakthrough and needed her to come pick him up, but there had been no answer. After the third time of trying by phone, Monk had actually called a taxi to check on her. Knocking on the door Monk nervously took out his handkerchief and proceeded to wipe a smudge off the window as he waited.
Straightening the mailbox, Monk replayed a conversation he had had with the Captain a few days ago. For the last few months he had found himself extraordinarily concerned about Natalie, what she was doing, where she was going, how she was feeling. He had noticed things about her that he usually wouldn’t. He had observed that Natalie had gotten a new hair cut. Normally that would be all he would have noticed, but now Monk saw how the blonde hair curled softly towards her face and drew his attention to her smile. He had tried to explain it to the Captain but the man had just laughed and said it was about time. Monk had just stared at him till the Captain had waved him off saying that he would figure it out.
Ringing the doorbell Monk felt his concern growing as there continued to be no answer. Unsure of what to do next, Monk finally tried the door handle and was surprised to find it unlocked. Letting go of the handle Monk debated whether he should go in, but in the end he slowly pushed the door open and peeked his head around the door calling out, “Natalie?”
Receiving no reply he tried again, “Hello…Natalie?” He wasn’t surprised by the lack of response the music was very loud. Now that he was inside, Monk recognized Edith Piaf’s “La Vie En Rose.”
As he turned the corner, Monk was confronted by a room in disarray. There were papers all over the coffee table and spilling onto the floor. Vinyl records were strewn about with an empty wine bottle lying on its side in front of the record player. Although Monk’s fingers itched to start cleaning, it was the sight of Natalie standing with her back to him that really caught his attention. She was dressed in the same white shirt and blue jeans she had been wearing the night before, a half empty wine glass in her right hand, red wine sloshing dangerously close to the rim as she swayed slowly to the music. Monk was puzzled by what he saw Natalie was not a heavy drinker but even from across the room he could see she was intoxicated. As the music ended he heard the telltale scratch of the record player hitting the middle of the record, and there were a few moments of silence before the needle hit the edge of the 45 and started playing the song again. As Edith warbled the opening lines, Natalie slowly swayed in a circle until she faced him. Her eyes were closed, tear-tracks staining her cheeks; her left hand was clutching a piece of paper in a fist over her heart. She seemed to be mumbling something as she “danced” to the music.
Monk felt like he was intruding on a very private moment, and he was pretty sure Natalie would not want him to see her like this, so he slowly started to back out of the room. He was almost to the hall when she opened her eyes and stopped moving. They stared at each other for what seemed like forever.
Natalie always seemed so upbeat; she had a spark to her, a feistiness. There was no optimism in her eyes now though, no joy. Her eyes seemed to carry within them only sorrow and old pain. Monk stopped his retreat and waited to see what Natalie wanted him to do. He was surprised by her request.
He watched as Natalie set the wine glass down on the edge of the coffee table, Monk ignored the urge to rescue the glass and instead kept his eyes on his friend. She held out her hand and said, “Dance with me.”
It was a demand rather than a question. Monk doubted he had it in him to refuse her even if she had asked. There had been a fragile desperation to her tone, a vulnerability that even he could hear. He took her hand in his and drew her toward him until his right hand could circle her back. Monk tried to keep a space between them, not wanting to make her uncomfortable, but Natalie moved forward until she rested her head on his chest. He should have been ill at ease with her this much in his personal space but instead it felt oddly right to hold her in his arms. He slowly turned them in a circle, his hand holding hers as they danced in the fading light seeping through the window.
Monk was so wrapped up in the moment he almost jumped when Natalie spoke. “This was our song…Mitch and me would dance to it over and over again,” she said in a whisper. Looking up at him she said “I loved the lyrics so much I memorized the translation and would sing them to him while we danced” Monk smiled softly and she laid her head back on his chest.
Natalie started to sing along with the song, her voice a rough whisper, “He has entered into my heart. A piece of happiness the cause of which I recognize. It’s him for me, me for him in life. He said that for me and swore to me forever.”
On the word forever Natalie’s voice broke and she stopped singing. Monk understood this, the pain she was going through, so he kept them swaying to the music hoping he was providing some comfort, or at the very least letting Natalie know she was not alone. They had danced through the song once more when Monk felt her grow heavier in his arms. Glancing down Monk noticed that Natalie was asleep on her feet. Bending down he lifted Natalie and carried her bridal style over to the couch. Laying her down on the couch, Monk then took the afghan off the back of the couch and covered her up with it. Natalie shifted once but then seemed to sink into the cushions as the alcohol and exhaustion finally caught up to her.
Walking over to the record player, Monk almost turned off the stereo but then glancing back at Natalie, he left it playing and instead just turned it down. Maybe the music would help her dream of better times with her late husband.
Monk proceeded to straighten up the living room, putting the records back in the cabinet and the wine glass and empty bottle in the kitchen. Returning to the coffee table he started to pick up the papers in front of it when he noticed they looked like official military reports with large sections blacked out, apparently classified. On the coffee table partially buried under a yellow legal pad with meticulous written notes, was a map of Kosovo. Monk did the best he could to put the papers back in order as he placed them on the table. Natalie’s death grip on the document she had held onto while they danced in had relaxed and the document had fallen to the floor. Picking it up, Monk saw it was a letter addressed to Natalie
“Mrs. Teeger,
As we have explained on many previous occasions both by mail and in person we will not reopen your husband’s case until new evidence is presented that would warrant such a response…”
The letter went on to express their sympathy, all in all a mere paragraph in length. Looking over at Natalie, Monk understood what had brought on this evening’s despair. He also finally realized what he was looking at on the coffee table was Natalie’s version of a case file, like the one he put together for Trudy’s death.
Sitting down heavily in a chair situated next to the couch with the case file in his lap, Monk looked over at Natalie and noticed how her hair had fallen over her eyes, so he reached over and gently smoothed it behind her ear so that it wouldn’t bother her as she slept. As he withdrew his hand, Monk became aware that he could still feel the phantom warmth of her skin on his fingertips. And it was in that moment he finally understood what the Captain had intimated just a few days before.
He was in love with Natalie.
A rush of joy went through him at the thought, then the documents that weighed had nearly nothing a moment before felt like a stone in his lap, reminding him of reality.
Now was not the time for such revelations, Natalie needed Mr. Monk the detective, not Adrian Monk, the man who loved her. Monk allowed himself one more moment to revel in an emotion he’d thought he would never feel again before he ruthlessly pushed it aside and hid it from view.
Passing a hand over his eyes, Monk felt emotionally wrung out and unbelievably exhausted all of the sudden. He vowed to speak to Natalie when she woke up about allowing him to look over Mitch’s case and see if he could find that new evidence that she needed. Lying his head back, Monk closed his eyes and focused his thoughts on what he knew about the case, ignoring the ache in his chest just over his heart.
The End