The moment his foot hits the ground outside of Milliways, Monk finds himself back in his orange jumpsuit, in the woods he narrowly escaped from only a few weeks ago.

"Sheriff, the suspect was spotted about three miles west. Scared a couple of campers."

"If you get a clean shot, take him down."

Monk has a plan.

He runs as fast as his legs can carry him ( Read more... )

Monk's friends are frantic, especially Natalie.

To Randy: "What do you think?"

"What do you think?"

To Stottlemeyer: "What do you think?"

"Right now, I'm afraid to think."

"He can't go to prison! He can barely survive out here!"

"Well, there's going to be a trial," Randy says, "I mean, if he gets a good lawyer, right?"

"But all that evidence! You heard ( Read more... )

"Can you shoot me? Like this? Like a dog?"

"Why? Why'd you do it?"

It was a simple enough question, Monk thought.

"I don't know why! I never know why. It's just a job. I didn't even know the lady."

A simple question gets a simple answer.

"Who hired you to kill her?"

More complex.

"If I tell you that, I'm a dead man."

You're a dead man, anyway.

"You can't do ( Read more... )

"We found this by the front door," Stottlemeyer says, holding up a piece of paper with the following written on it:

TO
FORCE
HEAVEN
MARS
SHALL
HAVE A
NEW
ANGEL

He continues: "He took a couple of cell phones, a flashlight bulb, some waterproof sealant and some braided cooper wire."

"Okay," Monk says. "He's making a bomb, remote controlled - "

"I'm not done. He ( Read more... )

It's early morning in Milliways when the door opens to the busy streets of Frisco, and a man whose eyes are focused on the ground -- can't step on the cracks -- walks through.

As soon as the ground beneath his feet changes from fragmented sidewalk to polished wood, he looks up.

"Oh."

It's been a while, hasn't it?

He glances cautiously at the now-shut ( Read more... )

December 10, 1997

It happened.

It happened, and he did all he could to stop it, and --

-- it still happened.

The twisted heap of smoldering metal he saw so frequently in his nightmares was now flashing on television sets across the city, and no matter how hard he looked at it, it didn't seem real. He'd seen it so many times in his mind -- he'd been ( Read more... )

Very slowly and very surely, Detective Adrian Monk of the San Francisco Police Department is losing his grip on sanity.

It started with a nightmare that left him in a cold sweat, trembling with fear in his bed that felt empty because it happened, didn't it? it felt so real -- only to force him to clutch onto his wife as though she were already ( Read more... )

The gunfire did not cease for another hour, but when it did, the SFPD had to deal with a group of very exhausted - some very dead - drug dealers. Stottlemeyer called it a "productive day".

After a long night at the station, Monk wanted nothing more than to go home to Trudy. His mind was focused solely on her from the moment he left Milliways and it ( Read more... )

It's been a while since Monk last trained. Sure, he's been keeping in shape and (mostly) watching what he eats, but he hasn't gone this far in ages.

He asked Bar, very very politely, if she could provide him with some gym-like equiptment, up in his room.

A napkin popped up with "Why?" written on it.

Resisting the urge to facepalm, he mutters to her in ( Read more... )

• He is Frisco's best detective, and he knows it.
  
• He is brave, confident & determined.
  
• He and Trudy have been married for 4 years. (He's 35.)
  
• He still wears suits! His shirts aren't buttoned up all the way, though.
  
• He's got a cool head on his shoulders.