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The Truth About Lois Lane
By Melody Clark
melody@melarry.com

DISCLAIMERS: MONK and all things Monkish belong solely to the Gods of USANetwork, Andy Breckman, Tony Shalhoub, and They Who Walk. This is just fan fiction.

All Readers: Character Vignette. Warning: UST Shipperiness. Even more shipperiness to come. I've arbitrarily named Sharona's sister, so if it's wrong, I'll change it. :-)

"Admit it," said her sister Jacqueline, oracle of the ages, font of all human wisdom.

Sharona Fleming groaned, handing her the three bean salad. "Admit what? You're making even less sense than usual."

Her sister smiled smugly, repeating, in singsongy fashion so to drive home her point's significance. "Admit it."

So Sharona turned around and gave her their grandmother's signature upturned hands, meaning "state your case or leave my kitchen".

"The Lois Lane comparison," Jackie said. "And the other point I made. See the significance?"

"Go get the veggie platter, hotshot. Or I'll show you the significance."

"Sure, kill the messenger," Jacqueline said, turning on heel to go to where she had been sent.

Wonderful, okay, he's wonderful. Okay, so he's adorable, he's also nutty as a super size Peanutbuddy Crunchybar. "How Crazy is He?" her internal monologue went, like a bad take on some old Tonight Show joke, "he's so crazy, he's... he's..." Frickin' brilliant." And that was the truth. Geniuses went crazy. You saw too much, saw too clearly what others couldn't see at all, and presto, what made you a genius also made you crazy. Beethoven was a three-pound Belgian fruitcake. So was Shakespeare...well, anyway, an English one.

She reached for one of the plates, admiring her sister's compulsive cleanliness. Sheesh, Ms Fleming, you can see yourself in my dishes! And that's the stuff you see, Sharona. Clean it up enough and finally, you see it. Decidedly average, old girl. That's what she saw. Nobody special.

Lois Lane. Yeah, right. Superman's girlfriend. Sharona had barely squeaked out a B- in English 200. She wasn't going to be writing for no great metropolitan newspaper.

She was right about one thing. He was Super-Man. Really. A mental man of steel, whether he knew it or not.

He was sitting near but not too close to the shade tree. He had spread a spare tablecloth over a metal chair, then surveyed the setup scrupulously before he occupied it. He had now focused on a big, picture window that looked deep into her house. She wondered, as always, what he was seeing.

"It's ready," Jacqueline said, wheeling backward out the door, to circle around with the platter in hand. "Benjy wants to finish the supersonic sledgehog game. You want to go grab Superman, Lois?"

Sharona gave her the look, before heading in Monk's general direction.

Jesus eyes, Inspector Meshugglemeyer had once described Adrian's eyes. Monk looked right through everyone. It was almost like he could read your mind. As she neared him, she slowed her steps, her eyes gradually reaching the level of his own gaze - their eyes meeting in the multi-paned picture window. Beyond his reflection, the window mirrored a perfect encasement of the area he had been watching - where she had just been standing.

She swallowed hard, realizing he'd been observing her.

"She's right...you know ...about Lois Lane," Monk said, softly, tentatively. He had turned his head, was staring shyly up at her. His eyes were shining with his own penetrating kindness.

When he looked at her, it always made her feel like a kid at temple, like when the Rabbi singled her out for a passing word of praise. Only more than that. More.

"Sure, side with her why don't you," she said, bantering back, to minimize the intensity of the moment. "C' mon, Adrian, lunch waits for no man. Especially when it's my fruit salad."

"Wait," he said, rising.

His fingers touched her hair, moving a stray strand aside. He brushed another lock in the other direction, then finally directing short, sharp strokes so her hair might lay evenly to his eyes.

He smiled. "Perfect," he said.

"I wish."

He kept the hand on her shoulder. "No. Really. Perfect."

She smiled shyly. "Thank you."

"No. Thank ...you." He waited a moment, for the tightness in his voice to pass so the words might impart themselves. "Thank you."

She patted his arm, looked away. Anything but naked emotion. She was better at anything ...needlepoint, icehockey...than she was at that. "So, what's all this about Lois Lane?"

"She was ...Superman's...girl."

"Yeah, yeah, I believe you. I was just yanking Jack's chain. I wasn't much for comics. I was a bigtime movie kid."

"In the movies, too," he said quietly, smiling to himself. He moved ahead of her, toward the small patio and the table's bounty. He reached out to her, as if to touch her, but not daring to be touched.

Without thinking, she reached for his hand, then thought better of it. Their fingers coupled with the air, inches apart, then Sharona surged ahead.

"You know, you've really come a long way, Adrian," she said.

He smiled sadly. "But with so much farther to go."

"We'll get there," she said softly.

"I hope."

End