"Let light shine out of darkness." - 2 Corinthiens 4:6

Bianca did not want to train at seven that morning.

She usually loved the gym. The rush of blood flowing through her veins and the pound of her heart made her so alive. It woke her up to reality, giving her the push she needed for the day.

But reality was not kind anymore.

She forced herself to dress into her loose cotton pants and shirt, fingers fumbling to pull her thick hair back. She looked and felt like death. Her eyes burned from the lack of sleep and her stomach turned, but she pushed herself to head down to the gym.

As she rode the elevator down, one word kept flying through her mind: Monster, monster, monster. It clung to her like a parasyte leeching away at her blood.

She rubbed her dog tags to force away the crippling truth.

Shiro was already there when she arrived. He was messing with the settings on what looked to be a sleek treadmill (everything in this ship was sleek) with his back to her. He turned his head when he heard her come in and his lips gave a quirk.

Her heart did a painful twist and her stomach dropped. This was going to be hard. Not only did she want to run back into her bed and remain curled up, but she also couldn't help the strange twinges her body gave when she saw him, especially recently.

Was this avoidance?

Most definitely.

Was she going to behave like a mature adult?

That remained to be seen.

"Alright," she said, coming up to the treadmill beside him. "I've done some research and have a few ideas we can try along your normal exercise. You ready?" She had stayed up most of the night reading and planning, avoiding sleep at all cost.

He stepped on the treadmill, pressing the quick start button. "Yes, ma'am." he said as the track moved under his feet.

This was going to be a long morning.

When Bianca had peeled her eyes open that morning, she did not plan on arguing with Shiro. However, things had not been going as planned lately.

Everything he did grated on her nerves. From his oddly chatty mood to his strange compliance when she restricted his mileage. Everything he did made her want to rip her hair and scream, even though he was doing exactly as she said with a good attitude.

She couldn't stand it.

And the worst part about it was that she didn't know why she felt like her sanity was snapping. She was fine. She had her meltdown last night and she was fine.

She had made up her mind last night about whether to tell Allura or not about his BMD during a fit of tears. If he didn't want Allura's help then that was fine. It was his choice. It was against protocol but in her current state, she had to let it go for now. Bianca would do her best to keep him healthy, even if it cost her own well being.

With a grunt, Shiro let the barbell he was lifting drop on the mat. The weights smashed together loudly, causing Bianca to lose her grip mid pullup.

Her foot rolled when she hit the ground. Wite hot pain flared up her ankle, ripping a strangled yelp from her mouth. She gripped her ankle, curling her spine and taking slow, even breaths.

"Bianca, are you okay?" Shiro knelt beside her, a comforting hand on her shoulder.

She shied away from his warm touch. Her fingers curled around her throbbing bones. It was likely sprained, she could already feel the swelling beneath her fingertips. She sucked in a breath through her teeth. "I'm fine."

Shiro pulled at her shoulder firmly. "You're not. It might be sprained, let's get it fixed up,"

Already, she could feel a different pain intertwined with the inflammation of her tissues. A pain she now recognized as her body knitting itself back together. "Why bother? I'll be healed up in no time," the words were flat. She pushed her shoulder against his hand, keeping her back curled and eyes averted.

He muttered under his breath in his native tongue. Then, his hand slid around her shoulders and bionic arm under her legs, pulling her up and to his chest as he stood.

She scowled, pushing her arms into his chest. "Shiro, I'm fine," she stressed. But when she looked up at his face, she faltered.

The laceration across the bridge his nose wrinkled with his taught face. His eyes narrowed at her and his jaw ticked in warning. He cradled her gently in contrast to his stiff demeanor as he strode to one of the many benches.

"Thank you," she murmured as she slipped onto the bench. She let her uninjured foot rest on the ground, keeping the swollen one up. The skin pressed painfully against her sneakers.

Shiro stood, scanning the room. "Take off your shoe, I'll find a med kit." He strode off.

Jewing on her peeling lips, Bianca got to work. Carefully, she untied her sneaker and slid it off, biting down on her poor lips as pain shot up her leg. Definitely sprained.

She was stupid. Stupid for letting herself fall. Stupid for being startled so easily and not catching herself properly. She used to be so sharp, so quick, so surefooted. Now, she was grateful to not stumble into a door frame.

What had gotten into her?

She ran a hand over her gaunt face. Everything was going wrong, from start to finish. It was taking what little self control she had to not fall into another fit of tears.

Shiro appeared with a shiny white box in hand. He settled himself on the floor, crossing his legs over the other comfortably. Gingerly, he went to work wrapping her red, angry ankle.

"You really don't have to do that," Bianca said, settling her hands on the edge of the bench and leaning back on them.

It was humiliating, having her patient nurse her. She never enjoyed others looking after her, it made her guts squirm like worms.

His tuft of white hair tickled her exposed leg as he bent over to see his work. "You sprained it, it needs tending to,"

"Like I said before, it'll just heal on its own," she turned her head, choosing to watch him in the wall mirror. Another lance of pain wound up her ankle and she sucked in a breath.

"Doesn't the human body already do that?" Though the words were light, they were clipped as he slowly lost grip with his patience.

Bianca curled her fingers around the lip of the bench, pushing it into the palms of her hands until they burned. "It takes a while for a normal human to heal." Lab rat.

Shiro fastned the gauze sharply and sat back on his heels. Bianca saw his tight lips in the mirror and the irritated flicker in his eyes. "You've got to stop that,"

"Stop what?" She muttered. She knew she sounded like a brat but the acidic irritation lapped up her chest, scarring her lungs and making every breath burn. She tapped her finger under the bench.

"This whole dancing thing we have," he said, spreading his hands. "We try to lift one another up while ignoring our own faults and snap when the other tries to help," Irritation pushed his voice into a low murmur.

The acid rose from her lungs to her throat, pulling it tight. "I've got it handled."

His bionic hand brushed her arm, trying to get her attention, to force her to look at him. But she refused. Instead, she contradicted him by lowering her gaze to the pearly white floor.

"Got what handled? I don't even know what it is that's been making you so wary lately,"

She bristled. "I haven't been wary." How dare he call me of all people wary?

His hand slid from her arm to her chin, his fingers curling under to pull her face towards him. She complied, but kept her gaze on the floor. "Something happened yesterday. You were MIA all day,"

"What, were you worried or something? I thought you were mad at me," She shot. Why was she behaving like a snot nosed child? She never acted like this. She was respectful, in control of her emotions, slow to anger. Not snappy like a hormonal teenager.

But a dark piece of her urged her on. The dark corner of her mind she always succeeded ignoring ebbed its way to the front of her mind like a virus.

He pulled his hand back like she had burned him. "I wasn't mad at you, I was defensive." His voice was impossibly quiet.

She should stop. She needed to stop. He was a sick, PTSD wrought soldier with amnesia and was definitely stronger than her. Prodding at him with a flaming pitchfork was the dumbest thing she could do but she just couldn't stop her words from tumbling out of her cursed mouth.

She lifted her dull gaze to him, a dying fire simmering beneath. "Why the hell do you care so much if I'm okay or not?"

The words fell flat in the thick silence. They lay there, fully displaying her wrecked state.

She had tried convincing herself that she didn't care. She didn't care what he thought of her, so long as he was healthy and healing. She didn't care if he hated her, if he wrote her off as a military rat.

But she did. And it scared her to the point of shoving him away.

Slowly, as though she were a wounded animal that would snap her teeth, he shifted to the balls of his feet and settled his hands on either side of her head. He leveled her with a look that made her chest burn with a different pain.

"Because I care about you, Bianca."

The acid fell from her lungs to the pits of her stomach, where they were covered by ice. "What?"

His eyes roamed her face. Though he hid it well, she could see the uncertainty behind his eyes. "I care about you. You're more than my companion and so much more than my nurse. You see good in me,"

She didn't move under his touch. "That's because you are good," she said dumbly.

His lips twisted bitterly. "We're in the same boat. You were scarred by the military and I was captured and experimented on by the Galra. I killed people, Bianca. You saved them,"

She tried shying away from his touch but he held firm. However, he did loosen his grip, his thumbs brushing across her sunken cheekbones.

She didn't know what to say. Her guts clenched and her heart seized, spazzing under the pressure of the realization that crushed her.

The fleeting touches she gave him, the anxiety that drove her to pacing when he was fighting, the sheer desperation pushing at her to help him stay well. And the mind numbing fear that he hated her that plagued her thoughts were all once innocent encouragers for her to put forth her best effort for him.

Once, they had stemmed from her oath as a healer, as a nurse. But now...now they stemmed from a trickling stream that was slowly growing into a brook.

Bianca had slowly, comfortably, fallen for her patient. A fact she had been denying for several days because it was against the protocol she so strictly followed.

Weakly, in a second effort to push him away, she said, "I'm a monster, Shiro,"

His irritability washed away from his face. A heartbroken look for her pulled at his lips and brows. Gently, he lowered her face to his. His hair tickled her forehead as he pressed his against hers, the strands damp from sweat. "Then we'll be monsters together."

They stayed like that. Motionless in time, selfishly drinking the other's timid affection.

Bianca wrapped her fingers around his wrists, rubbing her fingers into his bone and metal.

She knew she shouldn't let herself have affection for him. She knew it was against protocol, against every rule she so proudly stood for. Her mind was hissing at her to pull away, throwing obscenities at her.

But for once, she refused to be a coward. To take hold of the string of possibility and hold as tightly as she could, even if blisters formed on her hands and burned the flesh.

She ran from the possibility of the tumbling storm that had been Nico.

She would stand her ground with the chance of home with Shiro.

AN: Hello, I'm back. This summer just kept getting more and more crazy. I changed responsibilities in my job and started an online class and have been out with friends and yeah...I felt like after a year of writing and alluding to her falling for him, it was time for more romance to come into play. I hope to write their relationship justice and in a healthy manner. Please comment and critique, I wish to grow!

IKingFisherI: Thank you for taking your time to read this! You have no idea how happy your comment made me. I wish the show was able to healthily show PTSD and anxiety recovery, but it IS a kids show, so that's why I'm trying my hand at it. I am by no means an expert, but the research I've done is so eye opening. Recovery is always possible!

Savage Kill: Thank you! I was hesitant to write from his POV, but I honestly loved it. I always assumed his mind would be very unsure and anxious, despite the brave front he gives.