A/N: I'm back! And I think it's about time I addressed the title. I challenged you guys to figure out where it's from in the first few chapters, and Moochiecat got it technically right, right off that bat. The title comes from the lyrics to a song called "Two of Us." Moochiecat identified it as a Wallflowers song. It was originally done by the Beatles on the Let it Be album, which is the version I know, and I had no idea that the Wallflowers had covered it, so thanks Moochiecat! I'm on the hunt for a recording now! =D

Anyway, Enjoy the chapter!

Disclaimer: I own my original character, but not the world in which she lives nor the people she interacts with. CSI and all related material is the property of its owner, and I claim no affiliation or rights to any of it.

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She was perched on a stool, hunched over the glass evidence table when Nick walked in. Every muscle in her body was tensed, her small frame curled in on itself as if to protect itself from blows. Multiple crushed Styrofoam coffee cups littered the space around where she had her work spread out, a full, intact cup clutched in her left hand. Her light brown hair was fighting the neon green elastic that had held it back from her face, and her right hand put the highlighter down every few seconds to brush another errant strand out of her way, corralling it temporarily behind her ear. Nick watched her repeat the motion a few more times, and that's when he noticed it. Her hand was shaking.

He felt his mouth flatten into a frown as his chest tightened. No wonder even Sara had called him.

The second he had noticed the tattoo on the vic last night, he knew this one was going to be a problem. That black and gold "Ranger" that was forever emblazoned on the poor bastard's left shoulder had set his "Rina-watch" on high alert. He knew Rina hadn't been a Ranger, since she was female, but one of the first things she had written to him about all those years ago was that she had been attached to the 75th in some capacity. An apparently unprecedented action. The DB's dates of service aligned with hers perfectly, and that made Nick nervous.

He leaned against the doorway for a moment, watching her reach up and stretch, her hands above her head, a small squeak emitting from her throat as she released and returned to her crunched position. The small, feline like noise almost made him smile. Almost. He decided to speak. "Have you eaten yet?"

She didn't even look up from her papers. "No."

He had figured as much. "Rina, you have to eat."

"I'm fine." Again, she her head never even stirred.

"You've been here since shift started." Nick shifted his weight, removing his shoulder from the door frame as he checked his watch. "Thirteen hours ago. You're not fine."

He hadn't thought her body could get any tenser, but as soon as he finished his sentence, she crunched even farther in on herself. His frown deepened and he felt the urge to just pick her up and carry her out. Away from the phone records, away from whatever memory this case was bringing up, away from whatever was making her body do that to itself. Just scoop her up, walk out, and keep going until she relaxed.

"I've just got to finish up these phone records," she tightened a little more before continuing, "and then I'll go grab something."

Nick sighed and made his way towards her. "Bullshit." He took her by the arm, forcing her to turn and look him in the eye. "You're lying." Her mouth twitched a bit. He leaned in closer, placing a hand on the table. "You're going to finish the phone records and then move on to something else."

Her eyes narrowed. He could see her getting defensive, but at least she was sitting up straight now so she could meet his gaze. That awful, gut-tearing tension was gone.

She wrenched her arm out of his loose grip, her emerald irises burning into him. "No, I'm not."

His now empty hand found her shoulder and his voice softened. "Rina, you told Sara you were going to do the same thing after you finished analyzing those fingerprints three hours ago." He really didn't want this to turn into a battle of wills. Her posture had him too worried for that.

She shot back immediately. "Who are you, my father?"

He sighed and released his hand from her, letting it drop with his own shoulders. He looked into her eyes for a moment, pleading with her silently to just stop fighting and listen to him. He was right this time.

After a moment he spoke, his voice sounding strange to his own ears. Too soft. Too weak. "I'm worried about you."

In return, she rolled her eyes, and he knew the situation was worse than he had originally thought. "You're always worried about me."

Damn straight I am. This was about to turn nasty, and he knew it. If he kept pushing, her walls were going to come flying up, with that shield of callous bitchiness to boot. The eye rolling was always the first sign. But he pushed on anyway. Past experience with her told him that, the higher the walls, the more she needed someone else to step in and take over. Someone else to make her do what deep down she knows is best, even when she can't bring herself to listen. He was not in the mood to fight with her, but if she was going to turn on the stubborn now, then he'd meet her head to head.

"Yea." He folded his own arms. He was going to win this one come hell or high water. "But this time the rest of the lab agrees with me."

"Probably because you've been whipping them up."

"No, Catherine called me. So did Sara. Not the other way around. They think you're taking this case a little personally because of the Rangers connection. And I have to say, from what I'm seeing here, I agree."

"They can think all they want. And before you even go there, for the last time, I didn't know the guy. Never laid eyes on him in my life."

Nick ignored the last comment. He doubted it was truth anyway. "Shift ended five hours ago. You're not scheduled for a double."

"A little extra work never killed anyone."

"It will if you don't eat."

"I told you, I'll eat when I finish these phone records." She turned back to the table, hunching again.

That was it. That was all he was going to listen to. He was putting his foot down. Her posture was tearing at his heart, and he was sick of arguing. "No. You'll eat now. I did not drag my ass off my couch and come all the way into work, just to be told you'll eat later. Let's go. We're going to the diner, and then you're going home and sleeping."

She turned back to him, one hand on her hip, "And what makes you-" her words were cut short with a squeak as Nick bent and pitched her over his shoulders in a fireman's carry.

He began to walk, talking to her as she made noises of protest. "I'm still bigger than you, Army or not, and you're not staying here." In reality, she could be free in half a second if she really wanted to. Size wouldn't make one iota of a difference with her. But she wouldn't struggle. Not really. She'd pretend to, to keep up appearances, to not damage her pride in front of the rest of the lab, but deep down she knew she needed to leave. And he was the only one she'd let force her to.

By the time they reached the trace lab, she had given up any pretense of trying to get away and was letting herself hang. If he put her down now, she'd come with him, but he didn't want to. Maybe having everyone see her carried out would make her listen to him next time. And there would be a next time. It was Rina, after all.

Besides, he was enjoying the fact that he could smell her shampoo. Still the same brand after all that time. Smelled like lilacs.

He stopped to ask Hodges to do him a favor and go toss the debris from her coffee consumption, and as he spoke she let out an exasperated sigh, dropping her forehead against his arm. The movement sent another whiff of shampoo his way, and he smiled to himself.

There was a reason he was the only straight man in Vegas who bought a house simply because of the lilac bushes in the front yard.

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Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it, and if you did (or didn't for that matter) please review and let me know that!