Disclaimer: I do not claim to have any rights or affiliation to or with the CSI franchise in any way shape or form.

A/N: Next installment, and really the last of the blatant set up. I shouldn't feel the need to include the introduction scenes, but for some reason I can't keep myself from it. I hope you enjoy it anyway!

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"Hey!"

The newly reunited pair continued down the hall towards Grissom's office, Nick gently guiding her the right direction with a hand at the small of her back, both chatting animatedly the whole way.

Warrick tried again. "Hey! Nick!"

The pair turned, Nick shooting a questioning glance towards his co-worker.

"Your beautiful friend there is bleeding," Greg offered, his finger pointing for emphasis. The woman immediately looked over her shoulder, pulling it forward with her opposite hand for a better look. Nick moved to look as well, a slight panic crossing his face as he saw the red spreading through the fabric of her shirt. "Holy shit! What happened?"

In contrast, Rina just sighed, shoulders dropping in resignation. "God damn it. Not again."

Nick looked at her like she just dropped from Mars. "Not again? You mean this happens routinely?" His voice was laced with panic. That blotch was awfully big already, and it was only growing. "Come'on. We've got to get that stopped." He took a deep breath, and switched into work mode. "Let's go. Warrick, will you grab the first aid kit?" Warrick gave a short nod before giving them a gesture to follow him into the break room to retrieve it.

"Nick, I'm fine." Rina protested as he took her arm and began leading her towards the table Warrick was now placing the kit down on.

"No, you're not. Stop being stubborn. Greg? There's a clean extra shirt in my locker, can you go grab that?"

"Nick, relax. This isn't a big deal." She turned to address the young lab tech as well. "Greg, don't bother. I'm wearing a cami under this. It's fine."

"Rina, will you please stop it?" Nick pulled her to face him taking both her wrists in his hands. "I don't know what happened, but bottom line is you're bleeding, and that's usually not a positive thing."

"I ripped some stitches. Not a big deal. I'll just re-stitch, re-wrap, and be good to go." Her tone was dismissive. He always had been protective, and all these years later she still wasn't sure how she felt about that. "I've got supplies in my purse just in case." She shrugged out of his grasp, and began unbuttoning the now saturated shirt.

This time it was Greg who looked at her like she dropped from Mars. "You're going to re-stitch yourself?"

She spoke without looking up. "If I need to and if I can reach. I probably don't need it. Sometimes the damn thing just seeps because it decides it doesn't like my shirt." She shrugged off the apparently offensive garment, leaving only her white camisole, tiny blotches of blood dotting the back around her shoulder. As for her shoulder, the gauze that had surrounded it was now saturated with red, mostly in the back. "Thanks," as she began to open the first aid kit she gave Warrick a quick nod before settling herself in a chair and beginning to unwrap the wound.

"Rina, please let me help." Nick was now standing next to her, looking lost. "This is probably my fault. If I had known you were injured, I wouldn't have swung you like that."

At that Rina stopped, wad of bloody gauze in her hand half-unwrapped, and looked up at him, a lop-sided smile crawling across her lips. "It's good to see you haven't changed one bit, Nicky. But you still can't help. I'm fine."

His brow furrowed. "Glad to hear that, but I'm helping whether you want me to or not."

She exhaled loudly and grinned up at him. She had missed feeling cared about. The caring thing was not something the Army excelled at. "Yep. Same old Nicky."

This time he grinned back. "And you're still stubborn as ever, Rina."

"I know."

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"Greg, have you seen a young woman wandering around here?" Gil Grissom spoke from behind his desk as the lab tech walked past his door.

Greg stopped, popping his head through the door frame, a frown on his face. "The new CSI?"

Grissom's brows furrowed. "Yes. She was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago."

Greg rolled his eyes. "Miss Perfect Hot Grand Canyon Bad Ass Army Chick is in the break room patching herself up."

"Patching herself..." Grissom began to ask, but Greg was already down the hall, muttering something to himself about women and luck. This had to be good. Finding out about the epithet could wait.

The scene that met Gil as he entered the break room was surreal. A first aid kit was strewn across the table along with bloody gauze in a plastic bag. His new hire was sitting in a skimpy white tank top, wrapping her shoulder in gauze and tape, Warrick passing her medical tape as she needed it. Nick was at the sink, running what was probably a less revealing white shirt under a stream of water, a bemused and slightly stunned expression on his face.

"What's going on here?" All three of his employees heads turned.

"Dr. Grissom!" His new employee quickly finished taping the last piece of gauze. "Let me shake your hand. Once I've washed them, of course." She quickly hurried over to the sink, taking the place that Nick had just vacated. "I'm so sorry about this Dr. Grissom."

"Grissom is fine. I'm not one for formalities."

She finished at the sink, and was quickly over to him, now dry hand extended. He took it. "Nick, Warrick, I see you've already met your new co-worker, Marina Blair."

Warrick spoke with a sideways look over at Nick. "Well, Stokes here seems to already know her quite well. But I never got formally introduced."

Grissom shot a confused look over at Nick. It garnered an answer, but not from its target. Marina spoke up instead, exchanging a look with the dark haired CSI as she spoke. "Nick and I were close friends in college, and lost touch after I went into the Army."

"Ah." Grissom surveyed the room again. "So, does anyone care to share what happened here?"

Again, it was Marina who spoke. "Oh!" She said, a little laugh escaping her lips as she glanced down to her now wrapped shoulder. "I was shot just before they discharged me, and it's just been refusing to heal. I've never had this much trouble with a wound before. It's in an awkward spot, and I keep tearing it open by accident. Thank goodness Warrick here let me know before I showed up in your office with my back all bloody. I knocked the stitches loose again somehow."

Warrick snorted. "More like Nick knocked them loose for you."

"Hey now. I haven't seen her in years, and frankly was assuming the worst until she walked in here. Cut me some slack."

Before Grissom could inquire as to what that meant, Catherine's voice blared from the doorway, startling everyone. "Who was assuming the worst about who?"

"Catherine, meet our new CSI and forensic anthropologist, Marina Blair. Marina, this is Catherine Willows, our Assistant Supervisor."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Catherine." Marina stepped forward and the two women shook hands, a bright smile on Marina's face. "But, and I hate to start out by correcting my superior, but I'm not a full forensic anthropologist yet. I've still got to finish my dissertation and defend it."

Catherine laughed, "Well, Marina, you still know more about bones than any of us, so it's a pleasure to have you here, full anthropologist or not."

"Please, Catherine, call me Rina." She noticed Catherine's look at her shirt, and cut off any comment. "I apologize for my attire. I was wearing something more tasteful, but it's currently in the sink." Rina gestured to her shoulder. "This is new bandaging."

Catherine opened her mouth, letting loose an understanding "Ah. Well, I've got an extra shirt in my locker. It'll probably fit you, if you want."

"Thanks, but I've got an extra in my car just in case. I'll just run out and grab it before I get my grand tour, if that's okay with you, Grissom." Rina turned to face her supervisor, head tilted to the side, awaiting an answer.

"Of course. I'll meet you in my office."

"Awesome."

After she had turned the corner, Grissom looked directly at Nick. "Miss Perfect Hot Army Grand Canyon Chick?"

The look Grissom got in return made it clear that Nick had no idea what he was referring to. Neither did Warrick or Catherine. So he shrugged. "I guess I'll just have to ask Greg."

"I guess you will." Nick replied hesitantly, as if talking to a psychotic. Well hell, with Grissom, none of them were ever really sure he wasn't one.

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A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Reviews would be lovely!