On her way to Greg's lab from the coroner's, Marlena stopped by Sara's to check up on her, but not before she stopped for a Vanilla Coke in the break room.

Instead of hunched over her computer as usual, she found Sara on the phone in her office, so Marlena leaned against the doorway until Sara acknowledged her presence. She tried not to eavesdrop on Sara's end of the conversation but she couldn't help it.

"…No, I think it would be better if I don't see you again," Sara was saying. "Remember last time we saw each other? We nearly had a fistfight in the parking lot. That's not something I want to relive again…Okay, you can pick her up at daycare if you'd like but I'd prefer to not have you in my home. I'm sorry, Sean, there's nothing more I have to say on the issue…No!" here, Sara noticed Marlena in the doorway and gave her a little nod. "…Listen you worthless piece of—no, don't tell me to shut up…Listen, Sean, you caught me at work. I have a ton of paperwork to get through…No. We can bitch at each other when I get home…I know…No. No. Yes. No…Okay, 'bye! 'Bye!" Sara slammed the phone down in frustration and blew some stray strands of hair from her face. "Sorry about that, Marlena. What can I do for you?" she asked as she displayed her prizewinning smile.

"Just wanted to see if you were okay," Marlena said softly.

Sara flicked more of her hair off her face and turned to Marlena, who noticed the red rims around her eyes from crying. Sara rubbed her forehead with her hand, "It's a hard image to get out of your head, you know?"

"Yes."

"Especially when it's someone you feel…strongly for," Sara sighed and took a swig of coffee from a nearby mug. "Come on in, have a seat, save me from my misery."

"What about your paperwork?" Marlena grinned, glancing at Sara's nearly-empty desk, neat for once.

Sara gave a light giggle, "That was just to get my asshole ex Sean off the phone."

Marlena offered Sara a brighter smile and pulled up a chair beside the desk. She saw an array of framed photos on the desktop, in frames of all shapes, sizes and colors. Most of them featured Sara's daughter, a pretty little thing. Marlena had seen pictures of her before, but never studied them. Her hair was Sara's dark chestnut but it was curled like Shirley Temple and from the photos she observed that her eyes were a very clear and pristine blue.

"Your daughter's gorgeous. How old is she now?"

"Thank you," Sara smiled. "She'll be five in November."

"What's her name again?" Marlena asked, her eyes wandering to a picture of Sara and her girl in front of some structure or building. Sara was on her knees, her arms around her child, who stood straight and flashed a toothy grin at whoever was behind the camera.

"Evie," Sara replied between sips of coffee. "Short for Evelyn Christine Sidle."

"She has your name?"

"Yeah. I didn't think it was necessary to keep my husband's name—Gentileschi—when he walked out so when I changed back, so did she," Sara fingered the faux wood finish on another photo of Evie as an infant. It looked like a studio portrait. "When Sean left, I sold all the stuff he left behind—even his Alfa Romeo."

"He left his Alfa Romeo?" Marlena's eyes nearly bugged out of her head. She remembered that she would have killed for an Alfa Romeo at one time. She sipped her Coke and waited for Sara's answer, who paused before giving a response and noticed not one picture on Sara's desk contained even the slightest image of Sean, not even a wedding photo was evident.

"If I know Sean, he probably has a new car, twice the cost of the Alfa Romeo."

"You should have kept it."

"Nah. I don't have a use for such a flashy car," Sara crinkled her button nose. "I go to and from work, take Evie to and from daycare and go to and from the supermarket. I just don't see a legit reason. I used the money from selling the Alfa Romeo to buy new clothes for Evie."

"Her dad doesn't send money?"

Sara almost laughed, "Nope. He can rot in hell. I frankly don't care what he does and what he doesn't. Evie and I are two independent women—we'll be fine."

Marlena smiled. "Well, as long as I'm assured—I better get to Greg's. He's getting my tox screen back soon." She took one last secret glance at a picture of Evie and started towards the door.

"Okay. And Marlena?"

"Yes?" She turned.

Sara flashed her cute little gap-toothed smile, "Thanks."

Greg Sanders tipped back in his office chair, put his feet up on the desk and nodded his head to his punk rock mix CD that he'd made only last night. Like every other night, he had to remind himself to stop putting his feet on the desk or he'd get a bawling out from Grissom. But unlike every other night, Greg had to remind himself that Grissom was gone.

The wound was still fresh, and working in and around CSI, he knew all about wounds. Some healed, some left scars. This particular one would leave a scar and everyone knew it.

He felt slight pity for Marlena Reagan, the "new girl". She had entered CSI in a tough situation and joined Grissom's team and just when she was gaining not only his respect but the respect of others, she has to investigate his death. Although, Greg thought she was doing a great job. He kind of liked to watch her walking up and down the halls of HQ, trailing after Sara Sidle and Catherine Willows like they were goddesses or just hanging out with Breeze Hamelin. There was something sexy about her that Greg couldn't pinpoint. She didn't have haunting, exotic eyes like Breeze or a prizewinning smile like Sara but Marlena just had an air of sophistication and worldliness encircling her. She oozed the tough-Goth-girl powerhouse sex appeal, with her dirty-blonde hair always tousled like Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction.

Coincidentally, just as he was daydreaming—or, thinking about her, Marlena meandered on into his lab.

"Hey, is that…Social Distortion?" Marlena cocked her head, listening to the music coming out of Greg's small stereo.

"Yeah," Greg sat up in his chair and grinned. "You know them?"

"A little. So, do you have my tox screens?"

"Um," Greg lowered his stereo and shuffled through a pile of papers on his desk, as disorganized as Sara. "Somewhere in here…sorry."

"Take your time."

"Found it," Greg withdrew a few sheets of paper held together with a single brad. "Okay, Grissom, apparently, was a firm believer in herbal remedies, as you know. I'm in the course of processing the pills you took from his home."

"Uh-huh…You don't think he overdosed, do you?"

"That's not my job to think. But between you and me, no. It's not really possible to overdose on herbal remedies but he overdosed on something…and here it is," Greg handed the tox screen report to Marlena and put his hands behind his head.

Marlena read the report and her eyes bugged, "Strychnine?"

"Yup."

"As in, the poison?"

"Yup."

"Strychnine."

"Strychnine. An alkaloid extract obtained from the seeds of Strychnos nux vomica, a small tree of the East Indies, formerly been used as an antiseptic, stomach tonic, circulatory stimulant, central nervous system stimulant, and as a medication for the relief of constipation. However, I doubt it's the reason why Grissom had it in his system. Strychnine's still in limited use today as a bird, mammal, and insect control agent." He smiled to himself with mild accomplishment.

"It's fatal to birds?"

"Birds and mammals. Humans are mammals."

"That they are. Mercifully," Marlena mumbled. She read the list of the other pharmaceuticals that Greg found in Grissom's system, "Pycnogenol, vitamin B12, Tylenol 3, Pau d'arco, wood betony, bayberry, Echinacea, valerian root, Genetian root, Ho Shu Wu, kelp and gingko biloba. I almost feel sorry for the man. Who really has such a strong believe that they take a dozen of these pills?"

Greg shrugged, "I try to keep away from the herbal stuff. The only two things that I found that weren't natural were the Tylenol 3 and the strychnine."

"Tylenol 3?"

"A mix of Tylenol and codeine. It's powerful stuff. Sometimes it's given to certain cancer patients."

"Grissom didn't have cancer, so that's out. What's all this stuff for? That's what I don't understand."

"Various things," Greg took back the report and ticked off an impressive list of uses for these remedies, "As a sleeping aid, for pain reduction, improving circulation, memory and eyesight, maintaining healthy nerve cells and red blood cells, strengthening the immune system and digestive track, preventing strokes, aiding resistance to bruising, helping joint flexibility and migraine headaches, detoxifying the blood, nourishing the skeletal system, burning calories, and, everybody's favorite, retarding the aging process."

"Wow," Marlena expressed after a pause. "You really did your homework."

"It's what I do. In high school I was the kid that other kids paid to write essays for them."

Marlena gave a knowing nod. Her brother did that, too. She looked again at the list of pills. "He really needed all that?"

"I don't think he needed it," Greg said, handing back the report. "But it helps. Grissom was getting up in his numbers. I'm surprised he didn't take anything for his hearing disorder. Maybe because it's a genetic disease."

Out of nervous habit, Marlena screwed up her mouth and chewed on her lip. Greg couldn't help but stare.

"I don't really know what to make of this," Marlena blew her bangs from her face and plopped into a chair next to Greg, whose heart fluttered a little. Marlena sat cross-legged, stared at the tox report blankly like a math test she hadn't studied for and toyed with the beaded anklet around her left leg.

"Greg."

The deep voice of Warrick Brown interrupted the quiet solace in which Marlena had almost escaped into albeit Social Distortion was still blaring from Greg's stereo. She was rather enjoying it.

"Greg, do you have my DNA results?" Warrick asked, almost shouting.

"Um," Greg lowered the volume once again rummaged through his papers. "Think so…where'd I…Oh…Marlena, could you move your chair just a little to the right?"

Confused, Marlena slid to the right as Greg asked and he bent down and tugged a slip of paper that had somehow managed to escape the torrents of Greg's desk and fluttered to the floor. Marlena had moved the chair over it.

"Got it," Greg held up the paper triumphantly and Warrick ripped it from his hand so fast, Marlena winced as if she'd just gotten a paper cut and not Greg.

"How're you doin', Marlena?" Warrick asked while skimming the sheet.

"I get by," she answered flatly as she fiddled with her bangs, once again thinking they needed to be cut. "It's been tough so far but it's been barely twenty-four hours."

"I know how that is."

"How's Merilee?" Marlena asked innocently, referring to Warrick's wife, a beautiful woman who was a former botanist with a fondness for painting and sculpting. She had switched careers after she and Warrick had their last child nearly three years ago.

"She's great, thanks. Working on four projects at once," Warrick flashed a subtle smile underneath his goatee, "as usual."

"How are you?"

Pausing to yawn, Warrick replied, "Tired but working through the pain. Trying to keep my mind off the…you know, the…the incident."

Is that how they referred to the death of their supervisor? The incident? To Marlena it seemed a little…void, maybe? All of a sudden she felt like she had to get some air, like she did when she became nervous or uncomfortable.

"Thanks Greg," Marlena sighed with a grin, patting his hand kindly.

"Um," Greg swallowed hard and returned Marlena's smile. "You're welcome."