A/N: In my files, this story has the label "A pathetic plotless yoon h/c fic." That probably gives you a better idea of the content. If you too love Yoon and want to see him get taken care of rather than take care of the others for once, this fic is dedicated to you.

Rating: T. Warnings for blood, injury, physical abuse. Apologies in advance for the unmerited abuse of a noble and much-loved character. But don't worry. To make up for the hurt, there shall be a hearty dose of comfort.

Thanks go out to littlehappydragon and Hannah for proofreading. Enjoy!

Worth

CHAPTER 1

It's been a long day, and as the sun sinks far below the horizon and still they trudge forward, Yoon knows it isn't about to end anytime soon.

He is more than exhausted; his eyelids keep drooping shut no matter how much he tries to channel his willpower into keeping them open. There is a deep ache running through each of his limbs: his hands, in particular, are wretchedly sore. It doesn't help that he accidentally sliced open a finger while chopping vegetables for tonight's rushed stew— all because he'd been nodding off. And then Jae-Ha and the others had the nerve to tease him about it—!

Well, we can't all be untiring, uncowardly, unnatural dragon warriors (plus the Thunder Beast), Yoon thinks snappishly.

Then there is Yona, of course— but Yoon would rather not be compared to the princess either. The girl with an unquenchable spirit and unwavering determination, who shoots two hundred arrows a night to hone her skills so that she might be able to protect her comrades, sacrificing rest and comfort for the sake of others.

In truth, there is something inhuman about Yona herself.

Not that he means it in a bad way. But… travelling among these incredible warriors (not that he'd ever compliment them to their faces), it makes Yoon feel… smaller. Weaker. And oh so completely and utterly human.

Handsome boy genius he might be—

But he is also failable. Frail. At times it hurts a little to be reminded of it… but right now, he is just too exhausted to run together a coherent thought, much less contemplate his innermost feelings of incompetency.

What he needs is a blanket wrapped 'round him, a campfire at his back, and a nice patch of soft grass to lie on— or even dirt. He isn't gonna complain. At this point, he could probably ignore the presence of a rock or two digging into his back, if he could just lie down—

"Look sharp, kid." The low baritone is Hak's, and the words are accompanied by a nudge between his shoulder blades.

"Nngh."

Formulating actual words to reply requires too much energy. He concentrates on lifting one foot up, then placing it down a few inches forward. Breathe. Up. Down. Repeat.

The terrain is rough, and when his foot snags on a protruding tree root he once again feels Hak's hand at his back, steadying him.

He grunts a little, intending to say (with no small amount of snark): "Don't need your help, Thunder Beast" or "I can walk on my own, thank you very much" or maybe even, "Why don't you try out this little 'helpful gentleman' act on Yona? She might be a bit more appreciative."

But then Hak's hand slams him between the shoulder blades and he faceplants right into the muddy forest ground before he can even open his mouth.

For a moment he's too shocked to be furious— and Hak whispers, from somewhere to his right, "Stay down, all of you. That patrol's gonna pass by within a metre of us."

Ah. Patrol, Yoon reflects dimly. The reason they hadn't been able to set up camp as usual that night. The reason he is currently in a faceplant on the forest floor.

It didn't feel nice initially when his face hit the rock-and-stick-laden ground, but now his head feels a bit numb (although a tad warm, and oddly wet on the one side), and the soft dirt squished under his cheek is almost as good as a pillow. Well, he can just lie here and collect himself for a bit, can't he?

Surely they wouldn't… begrudge him… this short rest… Just until the patrol is past, he thinks. Just… a little… nap…

It was a sign that he was totally out of it, Yoon reflects later, that he didn't recognize the symptoms of the head wound when he first received it.

—

Yoon isn't sure what happens next.

There's suddenly lots of noise— quite bothersome, really. Couldn't they see he was trying to get a little sleep, here? But no, there was shouting, a few screams, loud heavy footsteps, underbrush being trampled, the clash of metal on metal, that sound he abhors: the wince-worthy shhlllkk of metal piercing flesh.

Wait.

Is that— his flesh?

Sensations reach him but they're all dulled and he doesn't know what's up or down or east or west, only that he thinks maybe the dirt against his cheek has been replaced by air— but what does that mean?

He can't figure it out, but now he's wondering if that shhlllkk really was him because something hurts worse than it did before, so much that he wants to scream but then he's plunging down through a darkening abyss, all sensations gone but the rushing wind around him— he expects to hit rock bottom but it's softer, like dropping into a lake, an inky one, and then the water is over his head and he knows no more.

—

When he next wakes, he gets the feeling that he's had a long sleep, but for some reason doesn't feel any better for it.

He forces sleep-crusted eyelids open. The sharp spike of pain that immediately pierces his head makes him shut them real fast.

So, he can cross "vision" off the list of skills in his arsenal. That doesn't leave him unarmed, though. As he waits for the pain of his still-throbbing head to subside, he focuses on his nose, inhaling deeply.

The first thing that hits him is that the woody, damp smell of the forest is gone, replaced by air that's dry and dusty… so he's out of the woods, then. Inside? But there's too much of a breeze brushing up against his skin: his torso is cold and feels… exposed.

Where is his tunic?

He shivers then, and curses the snivelling clothing thieves who brought him here. (Ik-Soo wouldn't approve, but he doesn't care at the moment). He tries to wrap his arms around himself, but finds that they're tied together at the wrist behind his back.

So… he's captured. The situation's a bit worse than he anticipated. Rather than thieves, could it be—

"Stay down, all of you. That patrol's gonna pass by within a metre of us."

Oh.

As the memories return to him, his brain sifts through and picks out the important bits: something wet and warm slicking down the side of his face... head wound, he deduces, probably a mild-to-intermediate concussion, based on his headache. That's… not good. Even now, can he truly trust his own mind? His perceptions could be entirely skewed, for all he knows. Concussions are tricky things, but at least… he recognized the condition, right? And he did remember what caused it… pretty much. Doesn't that mean he has most of his wits about him, at least?

But what if he's wrong— he could be confused, or even hallucinating— he remembers years ago when Ik-Soo got a concussion… the priest was out of it for days, saying the weirdest things with slurred words when he could even speak at all— he remembers how worried he was for days on end, and the knot of anxiety in his stomach twisted ever tighter just as it is now, except right now he feels nauseous too— how could he not notice that before? He's breathing faster but the oxygen doesn't seem to reach him— nausea rises in his throat and he feels tears forming— he chokes, then leans over and vomits until there's nothing left in his stomach but acid.

He feels about ready to keel over, so he tries to direct his fall away from the sick-smelling puddle in front of him— and as he shifts, his leg drags against the rocky floor beneath him and—

shhlllkk.

Another memory. He barely has time to process what it means— oh crap— before his leg is on fire and he'd scream but his throat isn't working properly.

That's how they find him, trembling on the ground in agony beside a pool of his own vomit, eyes screwed shut, mouth open in a soundless sob.

.

.

A/N: *hides* Sorry to leave things like this. However, hopefully it will appease you to know that this story is in essence already finished, should be about 5 chapters in length, and I'll be updating at least once a week. And I hate to be that guy, but reviews do inspire me to update faster. ;) Thoughts, comments and criticisms are always welcome.