Disclaimer: I don't own Monk and some of the things I've writen in this story have been in my other stories.

Monk was definately the worlds best detective but even if he was a moron he could tell with one look at Natalie that something was wrong. Her eyes which were normally bright and epervessent was about to spill over with tears.

"Natalie," he asked, "What's bothering you"

"Nothing," Natalie lied, "I'm fine"

"Yeah," Monk said, "And Trudy's alive. I'm being sarcastic by the way"

"I know Mr. Monk," Natalie said.

Unlike you I can recognize sarcasum she thought to herself.

He put an arm around her shoulder with some discomfort.

"W-what's going on," he asked her.

"A lot," she replied, "My whole world is falling apart. The largest part of it is that Julie's sick."

"Oh no," Monk exclaimed, "Is it serious?"

"Cancer," Natalie whispered, "Lukemia actually. Now I'm going to lose her. She needs a bone marrow transplant."

"Natalie there are tons of people in the bone marrow registrary," Monk pointed out.

"Yes but only one match," Natalie said softly, "and he's dead"

Monk groaned. Natalie had told him about that before but he had forgotten. He had been given a gift a few years before... with the ability to restore one person who had passed. Julie was killed in an explosion of her school play. Someone had put a real bomb in a prop car and it had caused Julie to be killed. He had used this gift to restore Julie to Natalie. He just couldn't let her down. Now he had been given a second chance with the gift.

"Mr. Monk," Natalie said interupting his thoughts, "are you okay?"

Monk stared at Natalie. He could not believe that in her deepest struggles she would be concerned about him.

"I'm fine," he said, "and I'm not going to let you lose Julie."

"This isn't something that can be prevented," Natalie said, "Without the new bone marrow the treatments won't even work. Julie doesn't even know yet."

"I... haven't told you this yet but I have been given my gift again," Monk told her.

"You mean... the gift you had three years ago," Natalie asked, "C- could I ask you a teeny tiny favor?"

Hope sprang anew.

"Hold on a minute," Monk said.

He walked over to his bookshelf and pulled out a dictonary.

"Mr. Monk," Natalie asked, "What are you doing?"

"I'm looking up the words teeny and tiny," he said with a smirk.


"Because what you're about to ask me is not going to be teeny nor is it going to be tiny," he said laughing.

"Look I would never ask this if I didn't have to and-"

"You don't have to Natalie," Monk said, "You never have to ask. You're my friend. I love you. You're like a sister to me or maybe a cousin or something...and sometimes life throws sour apples at you and the trick is to make applesause but not too messy because messy is gross.

Natalie laughed feeling better.