CSI HQ had such a funeral atmosphere when Marlena entered on her next shift at eleven PM that it gave her the chills. Obviously, news got around here quickly. A heavy pall coated the building and the hearts of many of the employees due to the sudden death of Gil Grissom.

"Marlena."

Breeze Hamelin, the youngest yet one of the smartest in the bureau was sauntering towards her, one hand in the back pocket of her jeans and one playing with her dangly silver earrings. She blew a small bubble with her gum and from far away she looked like a high school student who had wandered off from the tour.

The way she walked and her mood were both described by her name. She was no more than five-five and curvy with wavy hair so blonde it was nearly white, with sapphire eyes. Her facial features and skin were flawless and a small silver ring protruding from her left eyebrow somehow enhanced its perfect arch though some would say it ruined her pretty face. Because her intelligence was valuable to CSI, no one dared to ask her to take her hoop out, for she might leave. No one reprimanded her about her large pieces of jewelry either. Marlena wished she had the guts to wear the stuff Breeze did.

To those who didn't know her, she was just a tough-talking, gum-chewing, sexy little nymph who could tell you off but still be sweet about it. But to many, she was suggestive of a hummingbird, always twittering and buzzing around; pleasant to be in the company of.

"What's this about me taking Sara Sidle's place on the Grissom case?" Breeze asked Marlena when she caught up with her.

Keeping their voices low, Marlena and Breeze walked side-by-side down the hallway towards the break room.

"Shush," Marlena chastised. "Sara's not stable enough to work on this case. I don't want anyone in his former team to be involved. It there may some sort of preferential treatment to be concerned with."

"Sasha told me he's replacing Nick Stokes?"

"He is. Sasha's just as good at fiber analysis as Nick," Marlena said quickly in Sasha's defense. "Breeze, please don't make this hard for me. Sara called me this morning and left me in charge. This is my first operation alone and I really want to do a good job."

The two women entered into the break room and grabbed some coffee. Marlena chugged hers straight while eyeing Breeze as she added four sugar packets and so much milk that she turned it pale.

"What?" Breeze asked.

"You've been working at CSI for how long and you still haven't eighty-sixed the extras in the coffee?"

"Can't stand that bitter taste. Need something sweet."

She really is a hummingbird, Marlena smiled to herself.

"So what's the deal going down?" Breeze asked. That silver ring glimmered even in the dimness of the room. She picked up a napkin and spit her gum into it.

"I'm meeting with Doctor Orestes in ten minutes. I can fill you in and Sasha…"

"Can be filled in now, too," came the arrogant voice of Sasha Zarek. Despite his feminine name, there was nothing dainty or girlish about Sasha. His sandy brown hair was a mess of curls that reached the base of his neck and his eyes were the color of steel, "to match my backbone," as he often joked. Over six feet tall, Sasha towered over almost everyone in the bureau but no one was intimidated by him. "What's going on, ladies?" Sasha leaned up against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest, a coy smirk on his face. He wore black slacks and a dark crimson shirt. "I hear I'm re-assigned to the Grissom case?"

"Yes," Marlena said dryly. "You're replacing Nick Stokes."

"Is Nick okay with that?"

"I don't care. I just don't want Grissom's former team taking part in the investigation, is all. Why does no one think this is a good idea? They should be regarded as suspects."

"Except Sara Sidle," Breeze murmured. "She was with you from the second you guys got the call, wasn't she?"

"Yeah," Sasha said. "I saw you two in Sidle's office chitchatting. Was gonna come in and interrupt when you guys got the call."

"And Nick Stokes wasn't there yet. As for Catherine Willows and Warrick Brown…I can't remember where they were."

"Why are you focusing on only Grissom's team, Marlena?"

Marlena suddenly felt like a target, "It's just a hunch, you guys. I'm calling in Solange Tanguy too."

"Who?"

Breeze jumped in, "Gil Grissom's cleaning lady, right?"

"Yes," Marlena nodded. "I found several long, dark hairs in Grissom's bed. His hair is short and, what you men would call when you're trying to sound worldly, salt-and-pepper. Solange Tanguy's hair is long and dark."

Sasha's jaw practically hit the floor, "Are you sayin'--"

Breeze interjected again, "She's not saying anything, Sasha. For all we know, the hairs could have fallen out while cleaning, right, Marlena?"

Marlena opened her mouth and closed it again like a fish out of water. She took another sip of coffee as her mind flashed back to the night before. "The bed was unmade," she said finally. "And it was nighttime. What would a maid be doing at her client's house at nighttime?"

Breeze was silent in thought and then Sasha jumped in:

"Grissom takes a roll in the hay with Mrs. Clean and then she whacks him?"

"Must you be so vulgar?" Breeze shot fireballs at Sasha with her eyes. "Besides, Catherine told me that one time, Grissom told her that it's a capital mistake to theorize before one has data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories instead of theories to suit facts."

Before Sasha could open his mouth again, Marlena jumped in, "That's another thing--I don't think she really…whacked him. Let's be professional about this. Listen, Sasha, one of these days you're going to break your neck jumping to conclusions. The hairs might not be Solange's. How could they be if the bed was unmade? She is the maid. For all we know, Grissom had a girlfriend he never told anyone about. He was a private man from what I understand. I mean, I did find some lipstick on a glass. The only thing I know is that it seems as if he died by asphyxia. There were no external lacerations anywhere, I found no blood anywhere near the body--"

"But you did find blood?" Sasha raised an eyebrow. This boy was always hungry for action.

"Irrelevant blood spots…three of them, so miniscule it's uncanny to think of how it could matter. One on his razor, one on the tip of a knife and one beside some pieces of broken porcelain."

"They do sound irrelevant," Breeze said.

"When you're in our line of work," Sasha smirked, "nothing's irrelevant."

On her way to the coroner's office, Marlena heard footsteps close behind her. She turned and came nose-to-chest with Nick Stokes, the strapping young Texan that Marlena used to have a massive crush on when she first joined the bureau. His chiseled features and broad smile were the epicenter of his good looks. Marlena will never forget and rue the day she found out he was married.

She groaned silently and prepared for the worst as she looked into Nick's eyes an asked sardonically, annoyed that he had stalked her, "Can I help you?"

"You can tell me why Sasha Zarek is taking my place," Nick snapped. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Marlena? You're a rookie."

Marlena winced. She hated that word. "I may be a rookie," she spat, "but I know exactly what I'm doing."

"I don't think you do," Nick retorted.

"Sara must."

"What does Sara have to do with this?"

"She's the one who got Catherine to let me lead my own team."

Nick's face hardened into a scowl, "I knew Grissom better than you or Sasha or Breeze. I'd be an asset. Not to mention I have seniority over the three of you!"

"One more word and you'll be a suspect. I'm replacing you for the same reason I replaced Sara."

"Sara? Sara? Again, what does she have to do with this?"

"Ask her. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a date with a coroner." She tried to turn around but Nick stepped in her way. She was ready to push him to the floor and walk on him.

"Marlena," he said softly. He stepped close to her, gently put his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes, his hard expression gone, his voice gentler, a tone Marlena never heard in him before. Marlena felt her heart flutter. "I'd like to everything I can to help."

Marlena blinked and gave him a hard stare in answer to his softhearted gaze, "You want to help? Butt out."

Doctor Benedict Orestes never thought he'd live to see the day that he'd have to do an autopsy on Gil Grissom. When the body was first brought in, he thought it was a joke that everyone but he was in on. Once everyone was gone and he was left alone with the body, he half expected Gil to jump up and snap,

"What the hell are you staring at, Ben? Did you really think I was dead? Get back to work," and stalk out as if nothing was the matter.

It pained Orestes to make the first incision into the man's chest.

He worked in silence on the autopsy, writing his notes without so much as a whistle escape his lips, as he usually did. He always had the radio tuned to the Hits of the 80's station and knew Gil couldn't stand that "new-wave techno pop shit" so, in memorandum, welcomed the quiet as he examined the body. He was halfway through with the examination when he had a visitor.

"Evenin', Ben," Marlena Reagan greeted the good coroner with a small smile--something Orestes rarely saw around CSI.

"Hey, Marlena," Orestes flashed a short-lived smile. "Rough night?"

"You have no idea," Marlena tugged on some gloves and some blue scrubs as she approached the examination table. "Why is there a towel over his eyes?"

Orestes winced, "Oh, that. I forgot about that." He removed the towel and forced himself to look into the deceased's face. He'd autopsied on many, many bodies but this was definitely new territory for him.

"Whaddaya got for me?" Marlena asked, shaking her too-long bangs out of her face. She realized that ever since she started this job it seemed like forever since she had a decent haircut.

"A whole lot of stuff, that's what. I've got your evidence up the wah-zoo. Where to start?"

Marlena gave the doctor a look that stated the obvious, "At the beginning, of course."

Orestes nodded, "Of course. Well, before I give you real evidence, there's the obvious. Time of death was hard to tell, since he was already in rigor mortis when they brought him in--estimated between seven and ten PM. Also, in case you didn't know: Gil Grissom was afflicted with autosclerosis, a bone buildup in the inner ear."

"I did know that. Detective Browning told me at the scene."

"It's a genetic disease, from what I hear--no pun intended. Grissom's mother suffered from it as well."

Marlena nodded, tilting her head. "He taught entomology at the deaf university around here."

"Yes. Fluent in American sign language, obviously, since his mother was deaf. I saw that his hands were very well taken care of," Orestes held up one of Grissom's limp hands. Marlena saw that the skin was soft and the fingernails gleamed as if regularly manicured but she couldn't picture Grissom at a nail salon. "Over the years I've noticed that a lot of people who use sign language on a regular basis take excellent care of their hands, since it's what people tend to look at when they use it."

"Unless you're a lip reader, like Grissom."

"Well, Grissom could read lips, yes, but not everyone can. Hands do the talking, as they say."

"Wonder who did his nails? I'd like to get their number," Marlena muttered to herself. "Okay, so his hands are nice. Great. What can you give me evidence-wise?"

"There's the dilated pupils, evidently. That was probably the first thing you noticed, right?"

"Besides the blue tinge," Marlena shrugged.

"Well, here's something else." Orestes went to Grissom's mouth and pulled the lips apart. "His teeth are clenched, lock-jaw style. The inside of his cheeks are bitten deep and hard. I found blood in his throat, noting that he might have swallowed some as he bit his cheeks. There are small nail marks in his palms and blood under his fingernails, probably from clenching his hands due to convulsions. Put that together with the pupils…"

Marlena paused, musing and her mind raced, "Tetanus?"

"To the untrained eye and without expensive objects of cadaver torture like so, yes. But, like you observed, there are no external wounds that could lead to cause of death. Even the young'uns know that tetanus comes from a puncture wound or a scratch from a sharp rusted object. But, I have the trained eye and the equipment to boot."

"What did the trained eye find?"

"I found some deep scratches on his forearms. I can tell you they're not self inflicted. They're too low."

"He could have scratched with the other arm."

"No, look at the marks. See how they're running down?" he pointed and placed his fingers at the top of marking. "This line is low enough to be the pinkie, this one tall enough to be the middle finger." He mocked the scratch, lightly running his gloved fingertips down his arm. "When the scratches end, they end evenly."

"Oh," Marlena was tempted to scratch her own arm to compare and contrast.

"Plus, if they were self-inflicted, I don't think he would have done it this unmercifully. He put up a fight with somebody. A tough one too. The scratches were so raw they were almost to the point of bleeding. See the tiny scab wounds?" Orestes pointed and Marlena leaned in and nodded. "See also the bruise on the forehead, possibly from hitting the wood floor face-first. But that's postmortem."

Marlena screwed up her tiny rosebud mouth in thought. "Anything leading to cause of death?"

"Asphyxiation as far as I can tell," Orestes sighed. "There were tiny little hemorrhages on his lungs. It's correlated with asphyxiation."

"That's not the official cause of death is it?" Marlena asked, worried.

"There's really no other explanation," Orestes insisted, cleaning some of his instruments. "Oh I almost forgot. I pulled these from the stomach lining." Orestes led Marlena to his microscope.

She peered in and saw sort of large, white dots. "What is that?"

"I'm not totally sure. Could be some cause of death. I'll have the stomach contents in storage for you, in case you need it later. But then again, I'm just the coroner. I slice-and-dice, you put it back together."

Marlena shot him a grin, "Doc Robbins would be proud of you."