“Couldn't we at least have gone around the lake?" Adrian complained as he was pushed along through the underground tunnel.

"When making you go through this tunnel would have made you as miserable as possible? I don't think so," Jared abruptly bent down, scooped up a fistful of mud, and flung it right into the detective's face.

"The divorce was no one's fault, Jared," Adrian frantically wiped the mud away; his captors had ripped his wipes apart before forcing him down into the tunnel to make him as uncomfortable as they could, "It was going to happen sooner or later, I can see now; your parents would have..."

"DON'T TRY AND BEG YOUR WAY OUT OF THIS, MONK!!!" Jared bellowed right in his face, slugging him right in the chest for added emphasis, "If you hadn't caved into this monstrosity," he jerked a contemptuous finger at his father, "everything would be fine today and I wouldn't have to kill you now!"

"You told him that, didn't you?" Adrian glared at McNall, "You filled his mind with what he wanted to hear so he'd blindly obey you."

"Well it doesn't really matter what I told him," McNall smirked cruelly, "The only thing important is that Jared's finally standing up for his rights against the people who've wronged him, namely the two of you."

"I can't believe you would do this," a still numb Stottlemeyer grumbled at the phony professor.

"I could say the same for you," McNall scowled at him smugly, "Sleeping around with Mrs. Fusco the moment your wife was out of the way."

"Huh!?" Stottlemeyer almost doubled over in shock, "You know that's not true, whoever you are; I didn't meet Linda till six months after the...!"

"DON'T LIE TO ME ANYMORE, LELAND!!" Jared shoved his father against the wall and started slugging him square in the face, "I know you kept that from me so I wouldn't know you were screwing Mom over! I know you were sleeping with the devil woman a year before the divorce! And don't you dare try to lie your way out of this one, because I will not be lied to anymore!!"

He finished his barrage with a kick square to the captain's chest. Coughing in agony, Stottlemeyer almost collapsed to the tunnel floor, his nose gushing blood now. "How did it come to this!?" he moaned.

"Dale's been protecting McNall here ever since he killed Joshua Kight," Adrian explained, glad to see they were finally approaching the end of the tunnel, "He gave him a false identity and had him on standby in case he needed his services, the price for his protection. Once Jared happened to pick the same university McNall was teaching at, Dale saw his chance. He knew the divorce had affected him deeply. It was a simple matter for McNall to get to him and pretend to be the good guy, telling him that he'd been wronged and he could get justice if he helped to get rid of man that he told Jared was responsible for it--me. It was nothing new for McNall; he played the father figure to all the children he molested over the years before betraying their trust in him and ruining their innocence. But Joshua was different; he fought back and managed to escape from wherever you had taken him after baseball practice that fateful day. And he probably made it abundantly clear he was going to tell his parents and the police everything about you, so you had to kill him to ensure your safety. And so you ran that boy down twice in the street, partly because of your own OCD and partly because you wanted to make absolutely sure he wouldn't talk. That was his reward for being brave enough to stand up to you."

"He had it coming, the little rat," McNall snarled, shoving open the trapdoor above them.

"It's a shame his parents are dead; it would have been an honor to see you saying that to their faces, and for you to see the misery you put them through all these years because you thought Joshua 'had it coming,'" the detective glared at him. A strong hand seized his arm and yanked him back into daylight. "Robert Montandon?" he guessed, looking straight at the unshaven man before him whom he could tell hadn't bathed in a while.

"Exactly," the bomber nodded smugly, "Yeah, Dale Beiderbeck's helped me out too, in case you're wondering."

"Cover us; we're taking him to die where everyone will see it," McNall dug a gun out of his pocket, in so doing sending a white bottle clattering to the ground. "Just as I thought," Adrian nodded at the sight of it, "The same medicine Dr. Kroger once prescribed for me. That's why the cabin was so spotless after you killed the Kights; you couldn't stand to leave a mess behind, so you, Jared, Montandon and Leo Kashner cleaned it up afterwards, making sure you wrapped their bodies in cellophane so there wouldn't be blood on the floor. Actually, I'll back up and sum this up from the start; once you got Jared to agree to help kill me, you had Montandon come up here and rig the nuclear explosion after he robbed the nuclear plant; that was him the Lewises saw. But he didn't know he was seen until Jared heard the conversation between me and them. He called you when he was alone to tell you, and that night you and Kashner killed them. In the meantime, Jared had poisoned the water while you were doing that, figuring I was a goner in the morning, but he forgot I won't touch water whose caps are broken. So you decided to lure me back to the cabin after you killed the Kights. Jared must have slipped Marci the note at some point when the two of you were backstage that first night. But you ran into a problem: Marci must have recognized you at some point; as a hardcore fan, she'd look into anything even remotely connected with me, and that includes the Kight's murder. Why she never shared that with me I'll never know..."

"Monk, we're going to die shortly, at least get to the point quicker," Stottlemeyer spoke up, groaning as his son rammed his gun into his back.

"Point being, Marci never gave me the note as you intended," Adrian glared at McNall, "So she had to die quickly, since you knew she'd spread the word on her network. You and Kashner broke into her room and killed her; Jared was just supposed to keep watch outside, but since Albright was trying to get in and help her when he got into position, he had to kill him quickly. Everyone else that night was just collateral for your escape. Of course, Avery, that worked out well for you, since that meant you inherited Marci's post, and thus would know my schedule for the rest of the week perfectly."

"And the message Albright was writing?" the captain inquired.

"I don't know what it was, but I can tell you it wasn't relevant to what's been happening this week."

"Hey Monk, I missed your autograph the other day," a yuppie ran up with an autograph booklet, "Can I...?"

"GET LOST!!!" Montandon shoved his gun in the newcomer's face. Pale, the yuppie ran off. "Of course, there was one small complication with the whole plan," Adrian turned to Jared, grimacing at what he had to tell next, "Dale had told you Linda had overheard him. Thus, you were on the lookout for her the whole time. When you saw her face to face with the captain, you knew you had to silence her quickly. The biker that came by was a lucky break for you. So you grabbed his pipe and made sure Linda wouldn't say a word then and there--your friends here," he looked at the two men, "Must have tried to make sure last night at the hospital, only she managed to get away. But back on point, Jared, that situation also gave you a cover to leave the fairgrounds without suspicion, given how much you hate Linda anyway. Everyone would assume you were simply upset about seeing her there and not question your motives. Only you didn't leave; you sneaked in through the convention center's back door and up to the storage attic, where the rifle was waiting for you. Only there was another problem; you didn't know I'd be sitting right next to Shalhoub, and thus you couldn't tell the two of us apart. So you picked one and fired, and that happened to be Shalhoub in the end."

"This way, Monk," McNall took him roughly by the shoulder as they approached the stage. A large crowd was gathered around it, listening to the final act of Monkstock--Carly Simon and James Taylor as it was--performing together. The mastermind steered the detective towards the rear of the stage, where unluckily enough no one seemed to be around. "We were all supposed to be on the stage here when that bomb went off," he continued the summation, "Montandon must have set the timers just right earlier in the day, to the time you told him. But thanks to Randy's spur of the moment thinking, or lucky break as it really was, we all survived again. So that left just the train. Montandon must have hidden the bombs and acid in a secret compartment somewhere you knew the authorities wouldn't check. Once on board after the inspection was complete, you and Jared got them and set them in place, staying on the far side of the train so you wouldn't be seen. As for the bomb that killed the Davenports, Jared must have slipped that in their suitcase some time earlier in the week. We were all yelling at them not to leave, we were all facing them; it would have been easy for you to slip inside and activate it before Natalie came for it. Then you planted the remaining parts on Harold knowing..."

"All right, that's enough Monk," Jared pulled him to a stop near a ladder leading up to the top of the scaffolding over the stage, "Up you go, all the way to the top."

"Um..." Adrian felt his blood freezing seeing how high it was to the very top, "Are you sure...?"

"UP!!!!" Jared rammed the gun into his back. "Give me that!" he snatched a microphone off a passing stagehand as Adrian reluctantly started climbing, his eyes squinted shut as far as they could go without closing. "Today, Monk, today!!" the college student shouted impatiently at him.

"He's going at whatever pace he wants, Jared; if you can't respect..." his father tried to plead to him as he too was forced up behind the detective.

"No, I don't respect him or you!!" his son bellowed at him, "The only thing you'll get out of me now is that he'll die before you! I said move, Monk!!"

Even with the threat of violence, it still took Adrian a good four minutes to climb all the way to the top. His head was spinning as he froze stock still on the narrow beam, trying not to look down. He heard screams from the stage below, followed by shots being fired into the air. "Everyone shut up and stay put!" he could hear Montandon yelling at the crowd, "We've got one final item on Monkstock's program for your viewing pleasure!"

The detective heard Jared's microphone hiss to life. "Ladies and gentlemen," the young man shouted down to the crowd, "The management of Monkstock in association with Dale Beiderbeck would like to present to you the grand finale of our show: the death of your hero Adrian Monk. Tonight before your very eyes, we will shoot him dead right here to end the week, and as a bonus, Leland Stottlemeyer, whom you put all your faith in, will justly suffer the same fate."

"Move, move!!" Adrian heard his father-in-law's voice over the hushed and stunned crowd below. "Jared!" Dwight sounded utterly shocked, "Don't tell me it's true YOU were the one who did all that this week!?"

"He sure is," McNall had apparently found a microphone of his own. He was leaning casually against the top rung of the ladder, taking the scene in with deep pleasure, "And he's done a darn fine job, I must say. Kill him now, Jared, and you'll be handsomely rewarded by Beiderbeck."

"With pleasure," Jared cocked the gun. "Jared, no!" Adrian heard Benjy cry over a microphone of his own on the ground, "Jared, come on, this isn't the way to handle it! Trust me, I can understand that you feel betrayed by him and your father. But if you pull that trigger, you're the bad guy here! They'll kill you for it, Jared; it's not worth it!"

"And haven't I told you I don't give a damn what you think, you damn idealist moron!?" Jared shouted contemptuously down at him, "There's no such thing as a loving family; family is all about stabbing the others in the back before they can stab you, and if you have even half a brain inside that inflated head of yours, you'll realize it as soon as possible! These two jackasses betrayed me, so they need to die for it, and so they will!"

"No, don't!!" came another, unexpected voice, one that sounded like it was halfway up to the top of the scaffolding. Sure enough, when Adrian dared to look down, there was Linda, still in her hospital gown, trying to climb up to the top. "Don't kill them!" she pleaded to her former lover's son, "These two men are good and decent people! They deserve to live more than anyone here at this lake! Kill me if you have to kill someone; I'm the one with the worthless, wasted life!"

Adrian thought he saw the captain start choking up a little as he saw Linda had truly undergone a change of sorts. "Oh I'm going to kill you all right, you ditch witch!" Jared wasn't swayed at all, which was probably to be expected given Linda was someone he hated beyond words, "AFTER you watch your dear precious Leland fall to that stage in a pool of blood!"

"JARED NO!!!" came one additional horrified cry. Adrian dared to look over the edge. His assistants were half-dragging Karen, also in her hospital gown (and with Sharona clutching an IV in her arm), towards the edge of the stage. "Oh my God, Jared, what did these people do to you!?" she lamented, looking with horror at Montandon aiming his gun at the crowd on the stage.

"They showed me the light, HAG!!" her son derided her, "They opened my eyes to so much in this world! You could say, in fact, that they're my real parents more than either you or him," he pointed contemptuously at the captain, "But of course, what do you care!? You hate him too; after all, since he was sleeping with the devil woman long before the divorce...!"

"Oh God in Heaven!" Adrian could make out the guilty tears in Karen's eyes even from a distance. "Honey, I lied to you!" she confessed to her son, "It was right after the divorce, I was mad at your father, and I wanted you and your brother to sympathize with me, so I lied when I found out he was dating again and told the two of you he'd been sleeping with her! If I'd known that would have led to this...!"

"Well it's too late now for guilt trips, because he and Monk die right now!" Jared leveled the gun right at Adrian's temple, oblivious to the screams of the crowd below. Adrian knew it was now or never to dissuade him. "So, McNall's your real father, Jared?" he spoke into the microphone, "Even though you know he killed Joshua Kight, who suffered what's probably the fate of anyone who crossed him? Suppose you don't have it in you to shoot us? Do you think he'll show you any mercy for not following through?"

"That's irrelevant," McNall snorted from the ladder, "Finish him now, Jared."

"No, shoot me first," Stottlemeyer spoke up loudly just before his son could pull the trigger on the detective, tears running down his cheeks much like his wife at the moment.

"Captain, it's me he wants...!" Adrian tried to dissuade his superior frantically; he couldn't bear to see Stottlemeyer die first.

"Monk, he's right, I deserve it," the captain sniffed. "Yeah, I failed you, Jared," he confessed with his head hung low, "I failed you in so many ways. And if you think I deserve death for that, then go right ahead and shoot me. I won't stop you or resist, because there is no crime greater than a father failing his son, so whatever you think I deserve, give it to me."

"Oh with pleasure," Jared turned towards him and put the gun barrel right between his father's eyes. "Remember this, Jared," Adrian made a last ditch effort to save the captain, "You may not like him, but he's still your father. I learned that lesson the hard way myself, but it's one we all have to learn. This man does love you, Jared, he always has, and even though his marriage to your mother didn't work out, he's always wanted nothing but the best for you. That's why he cheated with your age to keep you in Little League past your eligibility--perhaps not the best way to show it, I'll admit, but nothing you say or do will make him stop loving you, even if you pull that trigger. Because I've come to..."

"SHUT UP, MONK!!!" Jared roared furiously at him. "Say goodbye to your dear Captain Stottlemeyer, Monkstock!" he shouted down to the crowd, turning back to face the captain and reaching for the trigger...

...but suddenly a look of stunned surprised overtook his face before he could shoot. Perhaps it was the tearful expression on his father's face, or perhaps Adrian's words had gotten through somehow. But whatever the reason, Jared's finger wavered over the trigger. "Well, what are you waiting for!!??" McNall snapped impatiently, "Kill him!"

But Jared's hand was shaking harder now, and he now looked completely confused. "He's right," he mumbled softly, "He is my father..."

"And he destroyed your life; he has to die!" the pedophile bellowed angrily, "Now kill him and Monk, damn it!"

Jared put his finger back on the trigger and started to pull it...but abruptly dropped the gun. "I...I can't..." he started sobbing himself, "He's...he's not..."

"Damn you, Jared, I gave you an order!" McNall leveled his own gun at the boy, "Shoot them now, or I shoot you!"

"Not exactly what a father would do with his son, is it?" Adrian told Jared, "What does your heart say to do, Jared?"

"Don't listen to him; do what I tell you, right now, or you're dead!!" McNall threatened him, livid. Stunned and betrayed, Jared turned towards him. "You said you'd never hurt me," he mumbled softly, "Am I really just a thing to be used to you!?"

"That's it then!" to Adrian and the captain's horror, McNall fired. "NOOOOO!!!!" Karen's agonized scream also rang out from the ground as Jared hit the scaffolding, clutching his bleeding chest. "How could you do that!?" he cried to the man he formerly trusted.

"Because you're a worthless loser, Jared!!" McNall was livid as he climbed up onto the top of the scaffolding, "I ask so little of you, and you can't even follow through on that! Beiderbeck shouldn't have trusted you in the end! Well, I'm going to make sure you know there is a price for failure!"

"What are you doing!?" Jared was terrified as McNall planted the gun right against his forehead much like he had to the captain just a minute ago, "No, Mr. McNall, please, don't, I beg you...!!"

"You're a worthless failure, and you don't deserve to live!!" McNall started to pull the trigger...

"OH YES HE DOES!!!" Furious himself, Stottlemeyer jumped McNall from behind and pulled him down to the floor. Jared, get out of here!" he shouted at his son, "Get off this stage right now; don't worry about me!"

"You heard him, go!" Adrian urged him on. Jared didn't need a hint, though; he bolted back down the ladder like a flash. The detective leaped forward and tried to wrench the gun away from McNall. "Shoot him!" the pedophile shouted down to Montandon on the stage. Bullets zinged by Adrian's face forcing him to crawl backwards out of the gunman's sight below. There came a groan as McNall slammed the gun into the captain's ribs and bolted back upright. "So long, Monk!" he aimed square at the detective, who had no place to hide...

"No!" Linda finally had reached the top and jumped in front of Adrian. She jerked as four shots went right into her chest and slumped partway over the side. Adrian grabbed her wrist, but he could tell the damage had been fatal. "Do you think I'll make it to heaven now, Monk!?" she asked him weakly.

"Perhaps, Linda, perhaps," was all he could say before he lost his grip, which had been fairly weak anyway. He dared to watch Linda's body fall to the stage, landing with a thump on top of the drums, dead. At least, he reasoned, she had redeemed herself in the end.

"Well, she only bought you a minute, Monk," McNall cocked his gun again, "It's time..."

But suddenly a surprised look appeared on his face. Adrian could make out a loud Tarzan yell getting louder to his left. He turned just in time to see Disher and Jack Jr., of all people, swinging on the cable of a crane parked behind the stage--presumably to tear it down once the last concert was over--and coming to land on the scaffolding next to him. "San Francisco police!" the lieutenant bellowed at the pedophile, clearly with Cathy on his mind given the fury in his eyes, "Surrender now!"

"And what if I don't, smart guy!?" McNall derided him, "I know you don't have a gun."

"But we do have this!" Jack Jr. started making several crazy karate-style moves, "One false move and you get the kow-towing of your life from Kung Fu Monk--that's me--unless you let my brother go."

"He's your half brother!" the fake professor snapped.

"We're rounding up," Adrian and Jack Jr. said simultaneously.

"And I'm doing some subtraction!" McNall swung the gun towards Jack Jr. Adrian rushed towards him and struggled for control of the gun. That's right, take this!" Jack Jr. rushed over himself and started delivering judo chops and kicks--and hitting Adrian with half of them. "Uh, Jack, that's not really helping!" the detective shouted at him, trying to ignore his sore back. The distraction was all McNall needed to seize him by the collar and push him face-down towards the edge of the scaffolding. "Take a good look, Monk!" he hissed, "Don't try and pretend it isn't fazing you! You can't beat me and you know it!"

"Actually, there is one thing I have to say to that."

"And?"

"It's not as bad as it was a couple of years ago," while still feeling vertigo, it wasn't as bad as the vertigo Adrian had had in similar situations before. He pushed McNall backwards and wrestled with him for control of the gun. McNall struggled to hold onto it, his finger going for the trigger as they maneuvered dangerously close to the edge. Adrian tried to pry his fingers away from the trigger, but before he could, the gun discharged loudly in the narrow space between their bodies. The two of them looked each other square in the eye. "Who was hit?" the detective asked.

A quick look downwards answered his question; blood was exploding from the general location of McNall's heart. Shocked, the pedophile had just enough time to look down himself before he toppled sideways off the scaffolding and landed right on top of Linda, dead himself. The crowd broke into loud applause as a now panicked Montandon bolted off the stage--only to run square into Archbishop Fitzwater. "Forgive me Lord!" the priest shouted to the heavens before swinging his cane hard into Montandon's genitalia. Shrieking like a peanut whistle, the bomber sank in agony to the ground, where he was swarmed by fairground security. Adrian collapsed to the scaffolding deck, shaking all over. "It's over," he breathed. He glanced up at his half brother. "Jack, thank you, again," he commended him.

"Hey, brothers stick up for each other, don't they?" Jack Jr. slapped him a little too hard on the back, "Once we saw you were up here, I tried to find the best way up, and that happened to be it."

"Sure, take credit for my idea, will you!?" Disher upbraided him. He ran to his superior. "You all right, Captain!?"

"Yeah, I'm OK," Stottlemeyer heaved himself up, "Just get me down there as quick as possible so I can make sure Jared's OK."

"No problem. "Bring the line right over," Disher called down to the crane crew. "We'll get a lift down the easy way, is that all right?" he asked the detective.

"Well...I guess it would be better than the stairs," Adrian supposed. As the crane moved alongside the scaffolding, he seized hold of the cable with all his might. He couldn't help but look down at the stage below as everyone else grabbed hold, and the crane crew started lowering them down to the stage, and realized his assessment before McNall's death was true; the view from high up wasn't as bad as it might have seemed as early as a year ago. Maybe there was hope of overcoming his phobias after all if he was making progress there with one of his worst fears.

The crowd was going ballistic below him, chanting "MONK, MONK, MONK!!!" at the top of their lungs as he thankfully nonetheless touched down on the stage. He could hear something else over their cries, though; a cell phone ringing in McNall's pocket nearby. A smile crossed his lips; he knew who was on the other end of the line. Holding up his hand to make the crowd go quiet, he walked over and extracted the phone, then walked right over to the microphone at the center of the stage before pressing the button to take the call. "Avery?" came Dale's voice on the other end, "Avery, are you there? Is Monk finally dead? My time's almost up here!"

"Sorry to disappoint you, Dale," Adrian said into the phone as the crowd jeered the fat man's name, "Your plan failed. You want to know why? Because you don't know how powerful the concept of family really is. Jared couldn't bring himself to kill his father, because no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't sever the bond for good. I've come to learn myself that the bond between parent and child is harder to break for good than some people seem to..."

"Don't you dare give me a lecture, Monk!" Dale hissed furiously at him, "That's the last thing I want to hear right now!"

"Well, Dale, I don't suppose you'd understand since you never had a family," the detective was almost laughing now, "Ever since I came back into the world, I've started to realize more about the bonds of friends. I may not have the money you do, but I'm infinitely wealthier than you are. I have a wonderful family, a bigger family than you'd think...in fact, a family several million strong," he held up the phone so the crowd could let out another ear-splitting cheer. "Even if you had killed me, you wouldn't have killed me," he told the fat man off, "Love from everyone at this festival would have kept me alive for years to come, just like love kept Jared from blindly caring out your orders. So go ahead and rant all you want, Dale; it won't change the fact that you lost for good this time."

Dale sputtered in rage on the other end of the line. There came the sound of an iron door swinging open. "OK Beiderbeck," came the warden's voice, "It's time. Let's go take a walk on the green mile."

"This is not the end, Adrian Monk!" Dale continued shouted defiantly over the phone as he was wheeled out out his cell, his voice getting fainter as he got further away from the phone, "The state of California can kill me, but I'll continue my revenge on you from beyond the grave! My spirit will haunt you every night you can imagine, Monk! If if you think I'm giving you any more information on your wife's murder before the end, you can forget it, because I'm not giving...!"

The iron door of the execution chamber slammed loudly shut on the other end of the line, silencing the fat man for good. "A round of applause for Dale Beiderbeck," Adrian asked the crowd, who willingly obliged, "He's going to his grave with a tortured soul, just as it should be."

He turned to the wings to see where the others had gone. Medical crews were hunched in a circle around Jared just off stage, tending his gunshot wound. The detective bustled over. "Well...!?" he asked the head medic.

"Should be all right," the medic assured him, and next to him Sharona nodded in relief as well, "Didn't hit anything vital."

"Monk," Jared spoke up softly, terrible guilt in his voice, "I'm so sorry, Monk. It's hard to have to realize...what have I done!?" he broke down, "I cut a man's head off. He was right; I don't deserve to live!"

"Oh yes you do, Son," Stottlemeyer hugged his son, "I would rather die than see you dead."

"You saved my life up there," Jared told him, grateful, "I can't thank you enough...to think I believed that man was a friend...I'm so sorry, Dad. What am I going to do now!?" utter fear crossed his face, "Am I going to die for this!?"

"You're not going to die, Jared, I promise you that," his father assured him, "You're going to face what you've done in court like a man, but I promise you you will not get the death penalty; I'll do everything in my power to make sure of it."

"Still," several policemen walked up, handcuffs drawn, "He's still under arrest for his part in this conspiracy. "You have the right to remain silent, son; anything you..."

"What's the bail going to be?" Stottlemeyer asked the leader of the knot, "I'll pay it here and now."

"At least a hundred thousand, pal," the sergeant told him, shaking his head, "Good luck coming up with all that."

"Here, here's all I've got," the captain emptied his wallet, "He deserves to stay free until the trial."

"Can't take this," the sergeant shook his head at the mere two thousand in his hand.

"I have about ten thousand more," Karen rushed up, rifling through her purse, "Please, my ex-husband's right; he is our son; he shouldn't have to stay in prison until he has to."

"Well, I can't..."

"Let me," Jonathan stepped forward, digging out a checkbook, 'I'm now the head of the Davenport Toothpaste Company; fill this out for whatever you need it to be."

"You would do that for me!?" Jared was amazed, "I killed your parents..."

"Well, you saw how harsh they were this week to me and my fiance; you might not have done all wrong by it," he confessed.

"Jonathan!" Natalie elbowed him in the ribs.

"Only kidding," he said quickly, "Yeah, kid, I guess part of me is mad about it, but seeing how Dr. Atherton or whatever his name really was manipulated you, I guess it wasn't completely your fault. So here," he handed the check to the police, "Give him a break until you sentence him."

"OK," the sergeant shrugged and walked off with the check. "Thank you," Jared breathed to the toothpaste heir, "Knowing you can forgive me...even though I don't deserve it..."

"Of course we forgive you," his mother hugged him, "It's our faults too, Jared; your father and I, we never thought anything like this would happen from our own actions. We should have thought more about you and your brother--I shouldn't have lied to you about your father--and nothing would make us stop loving you, even this. What?"

"The two of you together, happy together again," he was clearly thrilled, "That's what I wanted more than anything in this world."

"We may not be married anymore, Jared, but divorce doesn't mean families don't have to be families anymore," Stottlemeyer told him, "Families stick by each other when they really need it; I was there for your mother last night, and she and I are going to be here for you through all this. You could have talked to either of us about how you felt at any time, and we would have listened to you. But don't worry; I forgive you for all this as well."

"I forgive you too," Adrian smiled at him; as with Jonathan, he knew Jared had been manipulated by Dale and McNall.

"I don't know," Disher was frowning, however, "The woman I love is in a coma because you have to sabotage that train. She might never come out of it..."

"Randall Disher," Stottlemeyer looked him square in the eye, "Forgive this boy. It's the same thing you'd ask of him if you were in his position."

Disher sighed. "Well, Cathy might come out of it anyway," he conceded. "I am glad you're all right," he told Jared.

"Thank you," the boy smiled at him. "Oh, Monk," he turned back to the detective, digging through his pocket, "I think these belong to you. It would only be fair to let you have them back."

He handed Adrian back one last pack of wipes. "Thanks," Adrian rubbed his hair, then tearing out a wipe and finally cleaning his hands off, "I really do appreciate this."

He could hear the crowd cheering his name on stage. "Well, might as well please them," he said, walking toward the stage, "Come on, everyone," he waved at his entourage, "We need to take this bow together."

"I would hope so, Adrian, given how I saved half the people who almost got killed this week," Sharona was half-grumbling as she led the others out on stage, "Speaking of which, I hope I'm getting a bonus for that."

"Why do you need a bonus? You've got income from the show coming in every week it airs in first run?" he argued.

"There you go again, Adrian, trying to weasel your way out of paying me and anyone who deserves to be paid. I swear, you are completely impossible when it comes to money. I have to wonder how your mind works, but I tell myself I don't want to know."

Adrian paid no attention. Somehow, he thought to himself, a large crowd didn't seem to phase him as much as it used to--to a degree it did, but not detrimentally. "Hello, Breckman Lake," he greeted the crowd, "I'd like to thank all of you for coming here this week to our festival. In spite of everything that's happened, I hope you had a good time here. I'd like to assure you my show will continue airing until I find Trudy's killer, and I hope you'll keep tuning in till the time it ends, because you're the people that make it special. You and my family, of course; my big extended family," he glanced fondly at his loved ones on either side of him, "All of you savor this moment, because it will probably be the last time all of us will be together," he glanced solemnly at his father near the end of the line, "But rest assured we'll be back next year with Monkstock II, and we'll keep coming here as often as you the fans keep caring for all of us. Thank you again, drive home safely, and remember to keep cleaning up every time you can, because like the theme says, it is a jungle out there."

The ovation that followed as he and his extended family took a large bow was absolutely deafening. Adrian, though, for once didn't care. He wanted to savor the moment as long as he could. For just once since Trudy died, he was in as close to pure bliss as he could get, for once completely surrounded by people who cared for him. He couldn't have written a better ending to the festival.

"You know if I do this, I won't be able to take it back," Adrian said later, standing at the edge of the dock back at the cabin, staring towards the setting sun.

"And I think you know what Trudy would want to see, Adrian," Dr. Kroger assured him. Adrian sighed softly. He stared down at the chunk of parking garage at his feet. Trudy's words rang out in his ears, "I'd rather be remembered for the park than for a cold, ugly piece of concrete." Deep down, he knew Trudy was right. The park would be a better tribute to her. And so it was with this in mind that he placed his hands on the side of the concrete slab and pushed it off the dock into the lake. "And that's it," he said softly, "A big part of my life is over."

"But I'd say a new one's just beginning," Trudy materialized next to him, smiling, "Don't hold on to what was, Adrian. Living is the greatest experience we can have, and the only thing I want from you is to be able to enjoy every minute of it, even if it throws you curves every now and then."

"Well, I can't make any promises, but I'll give it a try," Adrian smiled back at her, "It, it would really feel good to really, truly live again. In case, uh, I should decide that I want to move on, be it with Natalie or anyone else..."

"Do whatever makes you happy, Adrian," she told him firmly, "All I want is for you to be happy again, even if it is with another woman. But if you need me to talk to, I'll be there. I'll always be right here."

"I know," he pulled her into a hug, "You never will leave me, Trudy Ann Monk."

"See, he's making progress," Trudy looked over her shoulder at Dr. Kroger, "Your sessions did work in the end."

"Yes, better late than never. I'm proud of you too, Adrian," Dr. Kroger shook his hand. For a moment, the three of them simply stood there watching the sun glow brightly off the autumnal foliage as it sunk ever closer to the horizon. There then came footsteps from the other end of the dock. "Adrian," it was Harold, and he looked grateful for once. Dr. Kroger and Trudy vanished as the detective's nemesis walked up to him. "So they let you out then, Harold?" Adrian asked him.

"That was the worst night of my life," Harold muttered out loud, "I don't know how other prisoners can take it, spending every waking moment in an asymmetrical cell." He turned to his foe awkwardly, "I would, though, like to say...to say...thank you, Adrian for springing me from jail. Given our history, I thought you would be happy to let me rot in there. I'm glad you put aside everything to bail me out, so let me just say, from the bottom of my heart, thanks."

He extended his hand warmly. Adrian stared at it for a moment. "It, it was nothing Harold," he cracked a smile, taking Harold's hand and shaking it, "We, we may not get along, but I don't let innocent men suffer. If we could start over from this..."

Without warning, Harold abruptly shoved him backwards off the dock into the lake. "As I was saying, Adrian, thanks...for nothing!!" he barked at the detective in the water below, "I know you had the whole thing set up the moment dead bodies started piling up; you were just waiting for the right moment to get me locked up and the key thrown...!"

Suddenly he too went toppling head first into the lake with a loud splash. "Harold," Dr. Kroger materialized again, a smirk on his face that hinted he'd been waiting a long time to do what he had just done, "I hate to break this to you, but you need to shape up if you want to avoid finding out your life has been without any discernible meaning."

"Chuck!?" Harold was aghast, "Chuck you pushed...why!?"

"You're hopeless, Harold," his former psychiatrist shook his head, "Unless you change, you have no hope. There's one thing that makes Adrian a better person than you, that has made him better since the time I first started seeing the both of you: he has a heart and you don't. And without a heart, Harold, you're doomed to remain hopeless."

"Chuck, how could you do this to me!" Harold whined, "I thought we were best friends!"

"Come on, Adrian, Harold's going to need some time to think over his life," Dr. Kroger gestured Adrian up the dock's ladder. "Chuck, no, wait, give me some hope!" Harold begged him, thrashing about in the water as the detective and the ghost walked away, "You can't side with Adrian on this; the two of us have too much going together! Don't leave me here, Chuck! CHUCK!!!!"

"Oh shut up you!" Tommy shouted at him from the end of the dock, "I can't blame Mr. Monk for not being able to stand you; it's clear no one can!" He flashed a smile at the detective as he walked past him. "So, am I going to stay with you, Mr. Monk, once we get back to San Francisco?" he asked the detective as they started walking back towards the cabin together.

"I would like that a lot, Tommy," Adrian smiled back at him, "At least until they decide who you belong with most. Even if they do put you elsewhere, though, you'll always be welcome under my roof."

"Good," the boy was quite pleased.

"Well, now that everything's in order here, I'm going over to the hospital in Redding," Dr. Kroger told his former patient, "Troy's going to need my presence until Madeline gets up there."

"You wanted to shove Harold in, didn't you?" Adrian could barely contain his glee.

"Harold had it coming from someone one of these days," Dr. Kroger was actually smirking, "And truth be told, I couldn't stand him when he smothered me any more than when you did."

"Good, you're making progress too," Adrian commended him.

"Good luck, Adrian," his former psychiatrist said in parting before fading away one last time. "Adrian, there you are," his father appeared from behind an oak with both his brothers, "The moving trucks are here, as are some special guests."

"Who?"

"You'll have to see it to believe it," the former trucker shook his head. "Boy, this week went fast," he remarked as the four of them and Tommy walked back towards the cabin and the sounds of engines growling, "Hard to believe we're all going our separate ways again so soon. Oh well, at least we'll always have this moment together for the rest of our lives, however long it may be for all of us."

He seemed melancholy at what was to be his fate, Adrian thought, but at the same time determined to meet his mortality head-on. "Well, any time you're in Tewksbury and want to stop by, Dad, the door's always unlocked for you," Ambrose told him warmly, "Same for you, Jack," he told his half brother, "And thanks for helping save Adrian,, too."

"Like I told him, Ambrose, that's what brothers are for. Which leaves just one member of this family that hasn't thanked me yet for it," Jack Jr. glared at his father. "Yes, Jack, I'm very proud of you for once," Jack Sr. admitted, "I didn't know you had courage in you. But I do thank you; it would have been a sad..."

He abruptly trailed off, staring at his youngest son's pocket. "Do not tell me you swiped McNall's wallet before the M.E.s took his body away!?" he demanded.

"So what if I did? He's not going to need it anymore?" Jack Jr. protested. Jack Sr. growled in frustration. "Every time, every single time he does something good, he always backtracks into his old habits!" he asided to his sons.

"I know, Dad. But somehow, I'm starting to think I wouldn't have Jack Jr. any other way," Adrian told him. His eyes widened as he saw who the special guests his father had mentioned were. For the bikers had returned, their motorcycles parked next to the moving trucks outside the cabin. "What are they doing back here?" the detective called to everyone as he bustled over to the knot of people by the cabin door.

"These gentlemen have stated that they wish to reform themselves, and so they're lending us their motorcycles to go home with," Archbishop Fitzwater explained to him.

"Yeah, sorry about the other day, Monk," Slasher patted him a little too hard on the back himself, "We are fans, after all, and if you don't have a ride home, we'd be glad to lend you our wheels for the occasion."

"I'm not the one you need to be apologizing to," Adrian told him sternly, jerking a finger at Sharona, standing next to the nearest moving truck glaring at the bikers. "Right, of course, anything you say, Monk," Slasher walked over to the nurse, "Sorry we were out of line with you, Mrs. Fleming. No hard feelings, I hope."

"That would depend on how sincere you really are," she grumbled at him.

"Hey, we've had time to think ourselves, and yeah, Monk here had you for seven great years, and if it wasn't for you, no one would probably even know who he is anymore, so we thank you for that as fans," Slasher bowed humbly.

"Good enough," she shrugged, clearly eager to just get away from him, "Let's get out of here, then."

"I must ask, though, how will you get out of Breckman Lake, then?" Dwight asked the bikers as they climbed down off their bikes.

"Oh, we'll get a bus or a train or something, don't worry about us," another biker assured him, "And we'll just pick up new wheels somewhere else."

"Actually," the largest biker spoke up, "If no one else is going to be using this cabin, would it be OK if we stayed here till we did get a ride back?"

He glanced at Dwight, who shrugged. "I don't really know who has the deed now that my partner's dead, so I suppose it would be fine as long as you guys don't disturb the neighbors or leave a mess," the producer reasoned.

"Thanks a lot, Mr. E. OK boys, go on and move your stuff in," Slasher directed his fellow bikers, "Monk, you can have my bike as a token of my respect."

"I'm, I'm flattered, Mr. Slasher," Adrian wasn't sure he was genuinely glad, but at least it was a ride home. "Hold it up there," he called to one of the workers loading up one of the trucks with his belongings. Climbing into the back, he dug out several boxes all marked H-7, stacked them on the ground, and opened them one by one to reveal crash helmets and goggles inside. "Safety comes first, of course," he announced to his group as they started climbing on the motorcycles, slipping on the first helmet himself. "Here you go, Tommy," he slipped a child-sized one on the boy as he lifted him onto Slasher's bike.

"You came prepared for me being here?" Tommy was amazed.

"Well, I never come unprepared for anything," Adrian told him, "I'll be right back."

He hefted a box of helmets. "Here's one for all of you," he handed it to his immediate family as they hopped on a bike with a sidecar to his right (Ambrose jumped in the sidecar, while Jack Jr. clung to their father's back on the bike proper).

"I will be glad to get home, though," Ambrose commented, slipping his helmet on, "Vacations are great, I've come to see, but having my own roof over my head is a plus onto itself."

"But you do admit you enjoy going out," Jack Sr. smiled at him, "Stay strong, Ambrose; I know you're going to beat that agoraphobia for good real soon."

Ambrose smiled blissfully. "Hang on, before you go, Mr. Monk, one more picture of the four of you together," Natalie walked up with her camera again, "Just so you all have something to remember each other by."

Adrian smiled as the flash went off, glad that for this one moment his family was as intact and whole as it ever would be. "Here you two are, then," he strolled over to the next bike, where Archbishop Fitzwater and Dr. Bell were ready to roll, "Hope the two of you enjoyed the week."

"We certainly did, Adrian, even if you and I didn't spend too much time together," Dr. Bell admitted, "But my family is going to love the tale when we do get back."

"I'm sure they will," the archbishop agreed, "Just be sure to hold on tight, Neven; I do have a little bit of the speed demon alive in me from my younger days. And thank you for the invite, Mr. Monk," he thanked the detective, "I've had more fun with you than I have in years."

Adrian nodded. "Dwight, Marsha," he handed the next set of helmets to his in-laws on the bike nearest to the cabin door, through which the bikers were still filing, "Thanks for putting all this together; apart from the dead bodies everywhere, it was fun, really."

"I still wish I'd've stopped it when I had the chance," Dwight looked regretful, "So many more people could have lived..."

"But Adrian wouldn't have caught the killer if we'd all left," his wife pointed out, "So even the bad times have a silver lining, as Trudy might well have said herself." She smiled at her son-in-law. "And thank you for keeping our daughter alive for the public, Adrian. Dwight and I have said it before, but we couldn't have asked for a better husband for Trudy than you. And don't keep fretting over her case; I have a very strong feeling deep down that you will finally bring the guilty party to justice before this Christmas, and you can quote me on that."

Adrian smiled warmly. "A pair for the two of you," he handed the next set to Jonathan and Gail, "And if, if I can give some advice, try not to get...too well known...before you actually become Mr. and Mrs. Jonathan Davenport, OK?"

"Anything for you, Monk," Jonathan gave him the thumbs-up (Gail, though, looked rather disappointed at this), "Remember, you've got front row seats for the wedding, then."

"You, you are going to follow the guidelines I gave you after the last one, right?"

"We'll see what happens, Monk," the new toothpaste company president told him. Adrian moved on. "A set for you two," he moved over to the bike Disher and Turcotte were riding, "And Randy, there's always the chance Cathy will come out of it, so don't hold the grudge on Jared until she's actually dead--if she dies, of course, which I hope never happens."

"I'll try my best, Monk," the lieutenant tried to put on a brave face, "Well, once we get back to San Francisco and start busting some more crooks, maybe I'll start feeling better. After all, then I'll be the man she loved, just like you solving cases keeps you being the man Trudy loved." He sighed wistfully for a moment. "So, John," he turned to his passenger, "What's next for you once you and Becky get back to New Jersey?"

"The same as before; anything she wants to do with me," Turcotte said, "So I've got it the easiest out of anyone here. At any rate, thanks for a great week, Monk," he commended the detective.

"Thank you as well, John; you were very helpful solving this case," Adrian thanked him. He walked to the next bike, where Becky was in fact getting settled behind her boyfriend. "So, Becky, in case I don't see you again after this, I wish nothing but the best for you and Benjy," he told her, "The two of you deserve a happy life together."

"Don't worry about us, Mr. Monk, I think the two of us are going to be just fine; am I right, Benjamin Trevor Fleming?" she smiled warmly at him.

"You know it, Rebecca Catherine Turcotte," Benjy gave her a big kiss, "Anything you want from me, you get with no questions asked." He turned to the detective, still smiling. "And if we also don't meet again after this, Mr. Monk, thank you for being there when I needed you all the time my mom was working for you. I've said it before, but I'll say it here too; you are my second father, and you made my life bearable when I needed someone to look up to during that stretch. If you ever do have kids, don't worry; you'll be a great father to them."

Adrian choked up. "I, I am sorry, genuinely sorry things didn't work out back in New Jersey for your family, Benjy," he admitted, "I would give a lot if I could go back and give you the perfect childhood after you moved there."

"Well, what I do have is good enough," the boy told him, "As long as I make life good for my own kids, why complain? That would overcome everything."

Adrian couldn't ague with that. "He's right," Julie agreed on the bike to the right as he turned to her and Wendy, "You've been my second father too, Mr. Monk, and you'll do great if you ever have kids of your own, be it Tommy or anyone else."

"Good, good to know that," Adrian nodded. "Um, Julie," he had to ask something that had been plaguing him since the rumors had started on the fan sites, "If, If by some chance...your mother and I...if we come to decide..."

"If the two of you get married?" she'd figured it out already, "If that's what happens, Mr. Monk, I wouldn't mind, and I won't be upset if it doesn't. All that's important is that you're happy one way or the other."

"OK, I'll, I'll keep that in mind," he nodded again. "So, Wendy," he turned to the gymnast, "You really sort of had it easiest of anyone this week. I hope you enjoyed it."

"Hey, not being in the line of fire is a big plus," Wendy told him, "But it was fun nonetheless. Julie's right; you deserve nothing but the best in life, so I hope that's what comes to you down the line."

"Thanks," Adrian walked forward, his box of helmets approaching empty. "Well, Captain, we made it," he told Stottlemeyer on the bike to the left of his own, with his sons in the sidecar.

"And it never felt quite so good to make it through," Stottlemeyer beamed, "So let's go back to San Francisco and find your wife's killer before I retire so we can show Dale up once and for all."

"Yeah, leave him turning in his grave," a clearly reformed Jared smiled at the man he'd so recently hated, "That should be his punishment for all eternity."

"Which you should get for trying to shoot me!" an unforgiving Max glared at his brother.

"All right, you two, let's try and work this out on the ride back," Stottlemeyer reprimanded his sons, "The two of you are still family, after all."

"Right, and family sticks together no matter how much they may not like each other, as I myself learned," Adrian added. There were only two helmets left to deliver. "Natalie, Sharona, again, thank you both of you equally for bringing me to where I am today," his commended both assistants, handing htem the final helmets, "I know there'll be a war over which of you was better till the end of time probably, but you're both the same in my book."

"As well it should be," Natalie nodded, clearly glad to share the credit. "So if we won't see you again after this," she leaned forward to look her predecessor right in the face as Sharona revved the bike's engine impatiently, clearly ready to just get on the road, "Thank you for making him learn to live again."

"Well, I do appreciate that, but I wouldn't be so final about it," Sharona told her, "I just have the feeling in my stomach that this isn't the end, that somehow, somewhere, my path will cross with Adrian yet again before he finds Trudy's killer. After all, I was sure it was the end when I left, and look how often we've crossed paths since then. But until then, Adrian, are you ready to go now, because I certainly am."

"I guess so," Adrian appreciated Sharona's admittedly eccentric ways of saying thanks. He walked back over to his own bike and sat down behind Tommy. "Hold on nice and tight," he told the boy.

"Just say we'll go a little fast," Tommy grinned, gripping the undersides of the handlebars tightly.

"As fast as you want," Adrian felt Trudy's hands around his midsection. He turned back and smiled at her behind him on the bike, glad she'd be riding with him. Nor was she the only one he could see; off on the far left, on a ghostly bike, were the Kights, and beside them in the sidecar was a boy Adrian had only seen in pictures--Joshua. Though they were all dead now, at least the Kights were together again--together forever. The detective flashed them a thumb-up. "Everyone ready?" he called to the group on their own bikes.

"Take us out whenever you're ready, Adrian," Dwight told him, enthused.

"OK," Adrian kicked down on the starter pedal and pulled the goggles down over his eyes. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Karen running around the cabin, camera in hand. Dwight had agreed to re-hire her after she'd profusely apologized for her actions earlier in the week, and she'd managed to get non-biased interviews with almost everyone back at the fairgrounds, to be edited into a new, fairer version of her documentary. He waved goodbye to her as she started filming their departure, and he saw Stottlemeyer and his sons warmly do the same as well. "First one back to San Francisco is...um...first!!" he shouted at everyone else as they started their own bikes, "Here we go, homeward bound!"

"Adrian, wait, don't leave me here!" sopping wet, Harold was barreling towards the cabin, looking panicked. He started shouting something else, but was drowned out by a large cheer from the bikers in the cabin as Adrian jammed down on the accelerator and peeled off down the dirt road. The wind in his face felt surprisingly good, and he started going ever more faster. "Yeah, ride like the wind, Mr. Monk!" Tommy cheered him on.

"If that's what you want," the detective was bubbling with joy, not even caring that dirt was flying everywhere from the bikes, or that they were letting out a deafening sound behind him. It all just felt so good. In no time, they'd reached the highway, where he slowly ground to a stop even though the highway was empty in both directions. "What, why are we stopping, Mr. Monk?" Natalie asked him as she and Sharona pulled up to his left.

"Just, just savoring the moment," he told his assistant, glancing back when he heard a loud backfiring. Harold had managed to secure a bike of his own--an outdated model that was trailing black smoke and weaving dangerously from side to side, threatening to dump his nemesis to the side of the road at a moment's notice. Adrian waited until Harold was close enough to feel like he was catching up, then opened his bike full throttle and roared down the road towards the west at almost eighty miles an hour, leaving Harold well in the dust. "Let him get back to San Francisco on his own time," he told Trudy behind him, "Say, you want to see something you've never seen before?"

"Like what?" she was grinning as if she knew what he was going to do.

"Like me enjoying the freedom of living for once, namely doing this," he reared his bike up on its rear wheels. "That's it, Adrian, show us what you've got!" he heard his father shout proudly as applause rang out from the rest of his extended family behind him.

"You think that's something," he called back to them, "Catch me if you can!"

With an unexpected excited yell, he floored it and zoomed up the road at well over a hundred miles an hour, still up on his rear wheels. "YEAH!!" Tommy and Trudy yelled simultaneously, giving him proud smiles. And Adrian couldn't help agreeing with them--and also agreeing with Trudy's core sentiment about him as he sped off wildly into the sunset towards whatever the future held for him: that no matter what else was to happen from then on, for once it felt great to just be alive.

THE END

AND A SPECIAL THANK YOU TO YOU THE READERS FOR STEADFASTLY FOLLOWING THIS SERIES FOR THE LAST FIVE YEARS. IT WOULD NOT HAVE BEEN AS GREAT TO WRITE THIS WITHOUT YOUR SUPPORT.

BOB WRIGHT