Disclaimer: Not mine. I wish I had the brains to create the multi-million dollar franchise that CSI is...
A/N: Thanks for all the reviews! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter :) And again, thanks to my beta, GSFanatic for helping me out!
White. That was the only word that Lurie could use to describe his own office. Curtis had promised him that they weren't going to give his office away while he was on sabbatical, but Lurie had rationalized that emptying out the originally bland room was a safer option. Standing at the doorway with his briefcase, he took one last glance at the barren room before closing the door. The click of the lock closing signaled him to leave, but he stood there, staring at the mahogany.
Elated. Happy. Free. All words that should describe what he felt, but didn't. Instead, he felt as if somebody had just dropped a few more pounds on his shoulders. For he felt burdened - not with his patients' life, but with his own.
Closing his eyes, he warded off the on coming migraine and headed towards the exit. He tried ignoring the chaos around him as he passed the different parts of the hospital. Tidbits of sound bites still managed to get through: something about an officer flat lining in the ICU, Dr. Green calling for a tool in one of the surgical rooms and some lady inquiring about the lady's room; all things he desperately tried to block out as, for the first time in the past few years, he had nothing to focus on but his empty life.
During his time on his family farm, he had a lot of time to think about his priorities. He even had a time to read more than a few books on managing emotions, after finishing his county and the nearby counties' collection of medically related literature. His brother, who uses the farm as a summer house, had commented that he could have done all that reading in Vegas; and that Lurie flew back to Canada to get a passport stamp to show his boss that he did "have a life".
Lurie wasn't surprised that his older brother could see through that part of him; after all, he was a retired cop turned private investigator. But some part of him was glad to see that no cop, retired or not, could see the scars he hid underneath his medical coat.
Paging Dr. Matthews, Dr. Matthews to the front desk please.
The PA system brought him back to the present, standing in his office on his first day back. He smoothed his coat with his hands once again before placing the stethoscope around his neck. Reaching for the door handle, he stared at the small upside down reflection. He looked refreshed; the frown lines around his mouth had eased up a bit and there weren't bags underneath his eyes. But he also knew that not a lot has changed; the only difference was that bought a new, thicker, medical coat.
Pushing those thoughts aside, he left his office and made his way to the nurses' station; greeting and being greeted numerous times by hospital staff.
A friendly voice rang out as he approached the station "Dr. Lurie, what a pleasant surprise."
"You too, Bertha." He plastered on the biggest smile he could muster up his face. "Good to see that you're still here."
"I'm not leaving until they carry me out of here!" The older woman giggled as she searched in her piles of work, "Ah here it is. Curtis told me to give you these."
She handed him a small pile of files with a note attached on it. Lurie skimmed over the note, something about easing him back into the process and just giving him rounds with less complicated surgeries until he felt ready.
"So how was your vacation? Where did you go?"
Lurie looked up from his note. "Just went to the family farm up in Canada. I stared at sheep, reordered things, and helped my brother out with the family business."
"Sure sounds nice." Bertha commented as she handed files to another doctor. "Must be different from all this."
"Yeah," Lurie said as he flipped through his files. "It sure was." He nodded to the other doctor and winked at Bertha out of habit before walking in the direction of his first patient. For the first time in a year, Lurie felt that everything was back in place.
Up until two years ago, Sara was used to the ritual of waking up with nobody by her side. But over the past two years, she became accustomed to groggily opening her eyes to find Grissom either snoring away or staring right back at her with his baby blues. The latter freaked her out a bit at first.
"I like watching you sleep." He smiled and tucked a lose piece of hair behind her ear. "You look so…beautiful."
"That's it?" Sara said as she closed her eyes and stretched. "Beautiful is all I get from the walking thesaurus?"
Grissom's relaxed demeanor was gone when she glanced at him again. "Griss, I was kidding."
Instead of answering, he pulled her to him and put his forehead on hers, allowing him to look right into her eyes. "I can always find a million other words to describe everything and anything." His said softly, "But with you, it's like the million words aren't good enough…so I'm forced to go back to the basics. You unsettle me like nobody can, Sara."
She didn't know what to say, so she just kissed him-morning breath and all.
Sara smiled at the memory as she slowly opened her eyes and readjusted to the darkness in her room. Turning her head, she expected to find Grissom napping in his usual spot but instead was greeted by a copy of Bird Watching in Nevada magazine.
"You know, I don't think anyone really takes your bird obsession seriously."
Nick peeked out from behind the magazine. "And good morning to you too" He grinned as he put the magazine back on her bedside drawer. "I actually didn't bring that, believe it or not."
"The old lady who stayed in this room before me must have left it here." Sara yawned as her eyelids drooped a little. "They moved me in here last night after-" she yawned again, "after her husband complained about walking to far to visit her."
"Yeah I didn't really think that and this," He held up a catalogue for walkers, "is really your type of entertainment." Sara laughed a little as she fought off another yawn. "You know Sara, it's really fine if you sleep some more."
"But I barely see you these days, with everyone pulling doubles to fill in for me."
"I have a day off coming up, you'll see me then." Nick said gently, "Just go back to sleep Sara"
She nodded tiredly, "Where is he anyways?"
"Grissom had to wrap up some loose ends, so I volunteered to come answer your questions. Now sleep." With those words, Nick returned to his magazine as Sara nodded off.
He's often amazed by what the human brain is capable of doing. Aside from routine bodily functions, it also is capable of storing so many memories; wanted or not. At the moment, he was very thankful that he hasn't forgotten how to get room 435. Hidden away at the end the West wing of the forth floor, some patients enjoyed the privacy while other's, not so much.
Lurie skimmed over the last file of his round. A Marjorie Dawson, 70 year old lady who slipped on a puddle of water at home and ended up with a few broken bones. He continued reading as he headed for the end of the hall, not bothering to check room numbers until he reached the door. Returning to his reading, the case was worse than he had imagined initially, he knocked quickly and went into the room introducing himself without looking up.
"Hi Ms. Dawson, my name is Dr. Lurie. I will be looking after y-"
He stopped in his tracks as he glanced at the patient, not believing his eyes. She looked so real, so physical…like she was actually there. His fingers itched to touch her, to run his hand through her hair again, to-
"Err Doctor?"
Lurie snapped out of his trance and noticed for the first time that there was another person in the room.
"H-hi" Lurie stuttered as he tried to regain his composure, "I seem to have a file that wasn't updated. I'm going to go…now." With those words, he backed out the room slowly and closed the door, letting out an unsteady breath. He wanted to sprint down the hallway and back into his office, but the rational part of his brain stopped him from doing so; no need to re-instate his "half way to burn out" status in his colleagues eyes.
Taking a deep breath, he walked briskly down the hall and took the stairs down. He didn't want anyone to see him at the moment, not like this; with sweaty palms, pale skin and shaking hands.
TBC :)