Sasha wanted to be extra-careful about what he found in Grissom's apartment, so as he sat in the Tahoe, thinking about what he was gonna do next, he decided he was going to slap on the latex gloves, go back up to the apartment and do a double-check.

Again, he went over everything, shaking out clothes, rifling through drawers and scouring the floors and even daring to put his hand in the tarantula cage. When he tried, one of the large spiders lunged for him. He got freaked and pulled his hand out quickly.

"Jeez," he groaned. "I friggin' hate spiders."

He found a pair of shoes that matched the description of the Avias that Breeze had seen Grissom wearing as recently as two weeks ago and bagged them for comparison.

While re-searching the drawers, Sasha accidentally knocked the wood out of the back of Grissom's sock drawer. Or, he thought he did.

The wood moved akimbo, smacking Sasha in the back of the hand. Frantically, he tried to put it back together by taking the entire piece off…and it was then he discovered it was a fake backing.

It was in an awkward horseshoe shape, like an uppercase "E" with the middle line missing and made to fit inside the drawer by just sliding it in like a puzzle piece. It left about three inches of extra space. But for what? Obviously, to hide something. It was popularly known that Grissom was a very private man, due to the fact nobody but a few knew about his otosclerosis or his supposed OCD, but this was getting to be ridiculous.

Sasha had never seen anything like this before and it reminded him of the false bookcases people used in the 1800's to hide runaway slaves.

Now confused, Sasha dropped the piece to the floor and discovered what Grissom had supposedly wanted to hide using this false woodwork.

Shining his flashlight, he withdrew a small red velvet box from the way, way back of the drawer. Sasha put the flashlight in his pocket and opened the box. Inside, nestled on white silk, was a ring.

It was a plain gold band with a small opal in the center. It was real, both the gold and the stone. Sasha could tell by the way the opal shined in the dimness and the way it slightly changed colors and the stamp on the back of the ring: 28 karat gold. Carefully, he took the ring from the box and examined it. There was something written inside that Sasha had to shine his flashlight on to read.

Carefully engraved were the words, "I'll Wait For You If You Wait For Me."

Nothing else. No name. Nothing but the ring and the inscription.

Perhaps whoever had killed Grissom didn't want to wait.

Greg stared at the thong that Sasha placed before him and burst out laughing.

"Yeah…yeah, I know," Sasha shook his head.

"Oh…my…God!" Greg exclaimed between bouts of laughter. "You have great taste, Sasha."

"You should know, Greg, I got them from your underwear drawer," Sasha picked up on of Greg's surfing magazines and waited for him to calm down.

After Greg's laughter had died down, he pulled on a pair of rubber gloves and took the thong from the bag.

"So what am I looking for?" he asked, holding the panties out and examining them with a naked eye.

"Anything and everything. Preferably DNA."

"Ah. That's what I do best," Greg said.

"Test it against the DNA of our suspects, please. But we think it's Lady Heather's. Do we have her in the CODIS?"

"Sure, sure. From the last case she was involved in. Croix Richards, I think. Ah, girls' underwear brings be back to high school. Hm. I can just add this to the pile of stuff you guys gave me yesterday, from the maid. What's-her-name."

"Solange Tanguy."

"Yeah. You guys wanted me to test for strychnine, correcto?"

"No, Greg. Test for lollipops and gumdrops," Sasha said sarcastically. "You didn't test them yet?"

"Well," Greg shifted uneasily. "Catherine wanted me—"

"You always do what Catherine says?"

"He should," piped up another voice.

Sasha winced and turned. Catherine Willows was standing in the doorway, hands on her hips.

"Good evening, Ms. Willows," Sasha said in his best suck-up voice.

Catherine smirked, "Save it, Zarek. When I want my ass kissed, I'll ask." She strutted over to Greg's desk, rifled through it and plucked out a few choice sheets of paper and then left.

"Would that be with or without lipstick?" Sasha said under his breath after she was gone and out of earshot.

"She's been in a bad mood lately," Greg said delicately.

"I don't blame her," Sasha went over to Greg's stereo. "What'cha got in there today?"

"Ah," Greg leaned over, pushed the play button and the rock music emitted. "A little bit of everything good, my friend. Got a little Ozzy, a little Pink Floyd, some Jim Morrison."

"Mr. Mojo Risin is always good. Au contraire, you have good taste."

Greg laughed. There was a beat of silence before he spoke up again. "Are you going to the memorial service?"

It was recently announced that Gil Grissom's memorial service would take place that Saturday. It was an open invitation to everyone in the bureau who wanted to pay their respects.

Sasha heaved a great sigh. "Wish I could. It's my parents' fortieth anniversary. I have to take the three-and-a-half hour drive to Pioche for this monster party my sister is throwing for them at a Holiday Inn. I promised Alex I'd take the time off months ago."

"You always listen to your sister?"

"No. But Alex is ten years older than me…she'd beat me to a pulp if I backpedaled."

Greg glanced up at six-foot-four Sasha leaning against the filing cabinet and wondered how tall Alex was if she could beat him to a pulp.

"You wouldn't know if Grissom was involved with anyone, would you, Greg?" Sasha asked.

"I know he was bangin' Sara Sidle."

"Thank you Greg. Didn't need to hear that." Sasha paused. "How'd you find out…?"

"News travels fast 'round here," Greg didn't look up as he took a scraping from the thong panties. "Can't believe Sara would choose Grissom over me."

"You were after Sara?"

"For several years. Up until she started with Hank…then Sean. Then I got with Casey, Laurie and Regina and well, we went our separate ways. You know how it goes."

"Yup. Well," Sasha clapped his hands together. "I gotta get some stuff to evidence. Later."

"Later."

Sasha left Greg's lab and took the plastic bag containing the ring out of his pocket.

"Hi, Sasha," said a small voice.

Sasha looked up and smiled. "Sara. Hi."

Sara Sidle, paler than usual, had a little less bounce in her step. She was walking slowly, like on hot coals. She was somewhat sallow, especially the dim light of the CSI HQ hallway.

"What's up?"

"I'm on my way to evidence. Got some great stuff that's pointing us closer and closer to who iced Grissom."

Sara swallowed hard and nodded. "Good. Good. You do that."

"You okay, Sara?"

"Um, yeah," she sighed. "Just an onset of a stomach flu, I think. I hope not. If I'm sick then I'll have to call Sean and have him take Evie."

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that."

"Yeah," Sara offered a weak smile. "So am I. What have you got there?" She cocked her head to get a look at the ring Sasha was still holding up.

"Oh. A ring," Sasha said. "Found it in Grissom's bedroom."

"May I?"

"Oh…sure," he handed the bag to Sara, who knew enough not to take it out of its bag.

"Oooh…it's an opal," she breathed. "I love opals. It's beautiful." She turned it around in it's bag. "Oh, Sasha…the gold is scratched."

"It's not scratched. It's engraved."

"What's it say? You got your flashlight?"

"Yeah," he pulled his Pen-Lite from his pocket and handed it to her.

She squinted as she read the engraving. Then she swallowed hard again and breathed thinly, "Excuse me, Sasha." She handed the flashlight and the ring back to Sasha covered her mouth with one hand, and hurried off in the opposite direction.

Sasha couldn't help but agree with her actions. Love made him ill, too.