Disclaimer: If I owned CSI, I wouldn't be putting my stories here! Therefore, if I am doing this, it must mean I don't own CSI! 

A/N: Spoilers up to end of Season 7 for now, but will continue onto newest episodes aired in US. Set in the summer right after Dead Doll (season 8 episode 1). And much thanks to my beta, GSFanatic for encourage, advice and more! :)

Beeeeeeeeeeeeeepppppppppppppppppppppppppppp

He stared at the monitor in disbelief. This was not happening. She was too young and too beautiful to go like this, with her beauty buried underneath the layers of mud, scratches and bruises.

"Damn it!" He growled between gritted teeth. Doing a quick survey of his team, he knew that they had given up-he could see it in their empty looks back at him. But he wasn't going to let her go without a real fight, not him. He wasn't willing to lose her after all that.

"MOVE" He bellowed as he roughly pushed one of the new interns aside to grab the defibrillator pads off its stand.

"You know that won't do any- "One of his colleagues started as he placed the pads in position.

"I have seniority here Steve, and we do as I say" There was a deadly chill in his voice that made the other man back off. "Clear!"

He stared at the monitor with wide eyes, as if he was trying to will it to give him the results he wanted. The high pitch beep just continued. He gripped the paddles harder as he glanced at the machine to make sure it was ready. Without a word, he tried again, and again, until the situation sunk in.

He ripped his mask off with shaking hands, not noticing the streaks of blood he had accidentally transferred with his action. "I'm going to talk to the family."

"I don't think that's a good idea"

He stared at his colleague who was now blocking his path. "Fine" He ground out after a few tense minutes. He was too emotionally exhausted to really protest.

When he left the room, he avoided the direction of the waiting room but they still spotted him.

"Doctor, tell me Anne is alright. Please" A man's voice begged.

I gave up. I lost her. He wrenched his arm away from the distraught man. "A doctor will be with you shortly" was all he could muster as continued walking away with his head down.

In his ten years of service, he has been in this room several times. The first time was when they promoted him from a lowly intern. The next few times were also for various promotions up to the senior position he held currently.

But this time it felt different. Curtis was sitting stiffly in his swivel chair, too stiffly for comfort. The constant page flipping in a file he was reviewing was also a dead give away. For the first time in his career, he got a good look of Curtis' office. Wall space that wasn't taken by shelves or windows was plastered with pictures of various family members, patients, and nature photography. Normally, people should feel welcomed in here but he just felt uncomfortable.

His musings were cut short by the older man clearing his throat. He looked at him as he pushed up his round rimmed spectacles which made him look a little like Atticus, well, Atticus Finch at age 60s perhaps.

"Vincent," He thumbed through the pages nervously, "You know I think very highly of you-always have." Taking a glance at him, his boss continued "You also know about the in review system that we have at Desert Palm, I'm sure."

Vincent nodded.

"Good, good…" the older man looked took a deep breath and glanced at the various pictures in the room before appearing to zone in on one. "I still remember the first day you interned." He let out a small laugh. "I couldn't believe my own eyes, I mean…an intern with hands so steady." Curtis shifted his focus to him. "I remember telling you on that day that most kids who come through the door could barely carve roast. It's like they needed scalpels with training wheels. But you, you made it look like it was connect the dots." He smiled nostalgically before something made that smile slip. Clearing his throat nervously he looked at Vincent over his glasses. "I'm worried about you. We're worried about you. You see this file?" Curtis held showed him the file before handing it to him. Vincent took it and felt his stomach drop when he flipped open the cover.

"It's understandable that you get a few of these… I mean, we've all dealt with the bitchy patients or interns who think too highly of themselves." Curtis continued, "But we've began noticing that you seem to be more than a little…distracted in the past year or so. I mean, you can put it off as bad nights of sleep if it was just a few incidents but what's going on Vincent?"

He knew in his head that his boss was referring to his recent scatterbrain tendencies, missing appointments, forgetting to relay messages to patients, not showing up to staff meetings; along with the mood swings he's been having according to the office gossip mill, but this was just something he didn't want to talk about-to anyone. "I'm just a little…tired." He tried to look nonchalant. "It's really nothing, I swear – I mean I've improved on showing up to briefings and meetings now."

The older man looked at him skeptically over his glasses. "What about the incident a few days ago, with the camping victim?"

Vincent shifted uncomfortably in the seat. "I lost perspective." His jaw clenched as he thought back to that day, and her. "I-I wanted so desperately to bring her back..."

"To the point that you would push aside ten years of medical experience and try the TV myth of jump starting her heart with the defibrillator?"

He guiltily looked down at the incident report. "Dr. Lurie was not scheduled to be on Emergency Room duty but upon seeing the victim, insisted he be on the team…He refused to listen to the advice of fellow team members and insisted on using the defibrillator in a situation which did not warrant the use of the machine…… Dr. Lurie abused his senior position in order to have this procedure done, even though the medical team -under his order- had tried the defibrillator with various chemical steroids in an attempt to revive the patient already." Curtis cleared his throat, but Lurie didn't know what to say to him.

"Look, Vincent," His voice was soft, "You're a great doctor, and I don't want to see you burn out."

Lurie's head snapped up at those words. "That is not what is happening."

"Then what are you doing?" He waited for a response, but once again received none. Curtis sighed. "I am going to suggest that you take a sabbatical. Caribbean's, Canada, Costa Rica, just …get away from here."

"What? Why?" Lurie said panicked, "I have patients lined up and waiting for various surgeries, I can't just drop them. A-and I just took over Steve's job of assigning interns, I can't just drop all this. " He was shocked at that his boss could fathom the thought of him leaving Desert Palm-even if only for a year. Curtis didn't reply, but just watched him. Lurie took a deep breath, "What happens if I don't take that advice?"

"Then I am afraid I will be forced to put you on administrative leave, after a psychological evaluation."

Lurie stared at the pile of complaint forms in the file. Most of them were from the last three years. One stuck out, it was filed on January 17th, 2004 for failing to show up to surgery where the patient had been waiting for a year. Needless to say, she was pretty pissed. But that wasn't the reason behind why he remembered. A nauseous feeling washed over him, making him take quicker breaths that he hoped Curtis didn't notice. He remembered how he couldn't fathom holding anything sharp, never mind a scalpel in his hand in the few days after that incident.

"Well?"

"Where should I go?"

TBC

A/N #2: I love love love the character of Vincent Lurie. I'd love it if they brought him back for the CSI movie but what are the chance of that, right?