A/N: So here we are… already at the last chapter. It's twice as long as the others (basically because I couldn't find a good place to cut it) so I hope you enjoy!

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CHAPTER 5

Yoon blinks open bleary eyes and Jae-Ha's smiling visage swims across his vision.

What a pain, he thinks dimly.

"Hey Yoon, how're ya feeling?" the Green Dragon asks, with an exuberant good-naturedness that seems over the top. This is Jae-Ha they're talking about, after all. "Good-natured" is hardly the choice term Yoon would use to describe him.

Yoon turns his back on Jae-Ha— a feat accomplished simply by rolling over. His leg twinges a bit, but other than that he feels comparatively good. Overall pain has faded to the level of a dull, unobtrusive ache. His head, too, feels markedly improved. He reaches up to still find bandages circling his head, but he can feel no dampness through the cloth. It's a relief— although he knows concussions are tricky things and he should still—

"...like that, and— Yoon, are you listening?"

Jae-Ha's been talking this whole time, apparently. Yoon doesn't reply. He has the feeling that he should be annoyed at Jae-Ha, although he can't remember exactly why.

He's just beginning to worry about this slight memory loss when he tugs the blanket encircling him tighter and notices the colour.

Hak's—

Everything rushes back.

He's about to— well, he doesn't exactly know what he's going to do, but then Yona bursts into the tent and Yoon tilts his head to see her, red hair wild, colour rising to her cheeks as she pants. "Jae-Ha— patrol— too many— have to leave" she manages, then draws in a large breath and kneels to start shoving items into a travel pack. She's got her bow and quiver strapped across her back. Jae-Ha starts to help her; Yoon tries to sit up and help too, but an involuntary audible wince escapes him and in a flash Jae-Ha is at his side, supporting him.

"Wha—" What are you doing, idiot? he starts to say, but Yona speaks again, tone urgent. "We'll meet at the waterfall place. You'll need this—" she hands the now-filled pack to Jae-Ha, who stands, swinging it onto his back. "I trust you to look after him," she says, then darts out of the tent, hands already grasping the bow at her back.

Before Yoon can decode Yona's last command, Jae-Ha has scooped him off the ground like a swooning maiden— an action which Yoon most certainly does not appreciate— and is out of the tent and in the air with a powerful leap in the next moment.

"Well, this is cozy," he remarks with a smarmy grin, looking down at Yoon.

Yoon shoots a death glare at him, and focuses on trying not to be sick. He knows Jae-Ha's being as gentle as possible, but every impact on the ground between jumps sends a jolt of pain up his leg, unsettles his stomach, and sets his head to spinning.

It's not spinning fast enough to banish all unwanted thoughts from his mind, however. He can't help but think of Yona, Hak, and the others, fending off the patrol, risking life and limb, while Jae-Ha whisks Yoon off to safety like some sort of damsel in distress.

Well, even if he wasn't incapacitated, he's never been much of a fighter— but still. At least he'd be there, alongside them, ready to clean and bandage their wounds, and scold them when they pushed themselves too hard.

The way things are now…

He is completely helpless, useless… worthless.

You're just trying to salvage your pride— but if you want my advice: give up now. Jae-Ha's words echo suddenly in his memory, and he remembers trying and failing to struggle out of Hak's coat, the hot flush of shame as he was manhandled back into it.

He's still being manhandled, he notes, and it's no less embarrassing as Jae-Ha pulls him in even closer to his chest. He makes a sound of protest, but soon realizes the reason— when he's shocked by a sudden wall of cold and wet and realizes they just passed right through a waterfall.

"Sorry, Yoon," Jae-Ha says, as he finally lands for good and sets Yoon (drenched, shivering, and utterly miserable) on the cave floor. He shakes his head— rather like a dog, Yoon thinks— and water droplets fly from his green hair and spatter over Yoon, who glares.

"Ah, sorry again," the Green Dragon says, and he almost sounds sincere.

After they've both changed from their wet clothes— Yoon finally gets to be rid of Hak's cloak, and he tries to focus on this spot of positivity as he suffers the thoroughly embarrassing process of being dressed like a child. Jae-Ha changes his bandages, and Yoon discovers that the bag Yona had hurriedly packed for them was full of things for Yoon— clothes and strips of bandages and jars of medicinal pastes.

Then they wait for the others to arrive.

Yoon leans against the cave wall and silently counts the pebbles scattered across the ground. Jae-Ha paces by the waterfall entrance for a while, but eventually crosses the cave and slides down the wall next to Yoon.

"You're mad at me?" he says, half like a question.

Yoon doesn't turn his head. "Not really," he finally says.

"Ah, I see."

They sit in silence for several moments more.

"So, if you're not mad…"

"I'm not!" Yoon feels the need to interject.

"Then why don't we have a little chat?"

"Isn't that what we're doing?"

Jae-Ha brushes his bangs back from his forehead in that peculiarly annoying way of his. "As long as you're willing to participate, Yoon, dear."

Yoon glares. "Don't call me that."

"So you are mad at me."

"Wha— Do you want me to be?"

Jae-Ha's gaze turns serious. "What I said before upset you. I'm trying to figure out why."

"It doesn't matter. It's fine now. Just forget about it."

"Ah, but Kija won't be satisfied with that," Jae-Ha says.

"What does Kija have to do with this?"

"He's worried about you, obviously. Just like everyone."

"You shouldn't bother," Yoon says, tucking his face into his knees. His eyes dart over to the cave entrance, and the shimmering curtain of water that hides it.

Jae-Ha's talking again. "Something I said, it made you remember, right? Those bastards who captured you, the… stuff that happened. Am I right?"

Yoon's eyes find some pebbles on the cave floor. He counts them, seven eight nine—

Day ten, the botched escape plan, Scar-face's taunting words, his leg erupting in fire. He screws his eyes shut and tries to breathe.

He feels a tentative hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, Yoon…"

But he doesn't want to talk.

As he watches, blurry shapes appear behind the waterfall's curtain, and five figures cut through the pouring water, one after the other. Jae-Ha leaps to his feet, and Yoon is momentarily pleased that their conversation has ended. But then he realizes the state the others are in and his happiness is snuffed out.

"Hak!" he calls out, and his hands scrabble against the cave wall, trying to push himself to his feet, so he can run over and assess the damage. He's barely managed to get his weight on his good leg when Hak shoots him a look from under the dark bangs plastered to his forehead. "Yoon, stay where you are."

He's one to talk, holding his side and staggering like a drunk. His formidable spear has been relegated to use as a crutch, and with every passing second the patch of red staining his torso grows ever wider beneath his hand. Kija hovers at his side, like he's been trying to help but likely been rebuffed.

Jae-Ha reaches Hak's other side and together the Green and White dragons help lower him down against the cave wall, a good five metres from Yoon's reach. He narrows his eyes.

Behind Hak, Yona has Zeno's arm slung over her shoulders, and the Yellow Dragon is limping, but he waves her off, saying cheerily, "Zeno is fine, healing fast, no need to worry."

Even Shin-Ah has something off in his gait. He's bleeding from a few minor scrapes along the arm, but Yoon is sure there's other damage, hidden— on all of them. He knows from experience.

But Hak— Hak is the one who needs Yoon's help the most, right now. Dignity means nothing when one of your friends is bleeding out from a stab wound and you're the one with the most medical know-how. Yoon begins to crawl, careful to hold his injured leg high above the ground where it might be jarred or scraped.

It's slow progress, and he has to keep his eyes on the ground, breathing heavily, but he makes it, drags himself to a seated position at Hak's side, and lifts his head to find everyone staring at him.

He scowls. "What?"

Hak is the only one scowling right back at him. "I thought I told you not to move."

"Last I checked, you're not the one who's in charge around here." They both glance to Yona, in sync.

She's clasping her hands unsurely in front of her and worrying her lower lip. There isn't time to waste so Yoon doesn't. He pulls open the front of Hak's shirt and assesses the damage. It's a puncture wound, about two inches across, he guesses, but it's hard to tell under all that blood.

"Can someone get me my medicine bag? And a clean cloth. And it wouldn't hurt to get a fire started— and boil some water," he orders. He hears them begin to move about behind him, and trusts they're doing as he asked. At the moment, all his concentration is needed to keep the hands untying the sash at Hak's middle from shaking.

"You're not in any shape to be doing this, kid," Hak says lowly. Yoon ignores him. The medicine bag has been placed at his side, and he reaches a careful hand over to open it— but another hand catches his.

"Yoon," Yona says softly, and he freezes. When he raises his eyes to look at her, she's blazing with determination. "You can't."

What?

His eyes narrow, his hands begin to quiver again and he can't stop them. But he balls them into fists anyway. "You've got to let me."

"I can't."

"But—"

"No, Yoon. You're still hurt! You need to be resting, you can't strain yourself. The rest of us are perfectly capable of taking care of Hak."

That's what he's been afraid of. This whole time— because he knows, yes, they are perfectly capable, and that's why he's superfluous, unnecessary, a weakling, a dead weight they'd be better off without, completely and utterly useless. Worthless.

The shaking has intensified. He has to keep his eyes peeled open so he won't see Scar-face's twisted grin. "No."

"Yoon—"

"We're wasting time and Hak's bleeding out over here!"

"It's just a scratch," Hak butts in, and Yoon would've given him a nice solid punch for that bit of untruthfulness, but he is injured after all.

"Yoon, you're shaking!"

He glares at her. "No." He rummages into the medicine bag, pulls out a swath of sterile cloth to press against the wound—

"Jae-Ha," Yona says, and suddenly strong arms have pinned his own arms to his sides. Yona takes the cloth from his pathetically weak fingers and presses it against Hak's side. She looks back at him gently. "Please rest. We all just want you to rest."

No. They don't understand. "Let me, please, you have to let me do this!" he says, voice cracking embarrassingly. He fights against Jae-Ha's hold, who grunts in concern.

"Yoon— wh—"

"If I can't do this, I'm useless!"

They all stare. He blinks rapidly, chest heaving. "It's the only thing I can do."

And now— his vision blurs and he blinks harder, fighting against tears that seem determined to slip past his defenses. He will not cry in front of them. He will not look any weaker than he already does.

"Oh, Yoon." Yona's in front of him, reaching out a hand. "You can't think that we would— You must know that you're—"

But he can't look up, can't meet her eyes. All he wishes is that he could evaporate into the air like the waterfall's mist— but instead, he feels warm arms slip 'round him, and Yona's head presses into his shoulder, and he's never felt more solid. Present. Then Jae-Ha's grip on his arms relaxes, and he finds himself being hugged on two fronts— then four, as Zeno and Kija join in; even Shin-ah gives him a little pat on the shoulder, which is worth a thousand hugs, in Yoon's opinion.

His eyes drift closed, and no unwelcome memory flits over the backs of his eyelids to taunt him. How can Scar-face be here, when he's surrounded on all sides by warm and gentle arms and soft words?

"Yoon, you're not useless, never useless— I don't want you to ever think such a thing!" Yona speaks into his shirt front, and the words seem to seep through and loosen something that was tight before in his chest. "We need you, we all need you. So, just this once, let us take care of you."

"Stupid," Yoon says (he is most definitely not sniffling), "that's supposed to be my job." The group chuckles, he feels their arms tighten minutely around him, and then he remembers what he should have never forgotten. "Hak! I've got to—" He wriggles partially free of the tangle of limbs and finds the Thunder Beast looking at him wryly.

"I'm hardly helpless," he grunts. With one hand he's pressing a cloth to the wound while the other rummages through Yoon's bag in search of ointment. "I've dressed plenty of my own wounds before," he adds, reading the doubt in the angle of Yoon's eyebrow.

"That doesn't mean you've been doing it properly." Yoon leans forward, fingers stretching for the jar of ointment, but he's stopped by Yona's hand on his shoulder and a gentle reprimand. "Yoon…"

He huffs. "Fine." From the corner of his eye he can see a few sighs of relief at his acquiesce. "I won't do any work. But there's no reason I can't give you some instructions while just sitting here."

He glances around. They're all smiling— even Shin-ah's mouth has a slight lift at the corners. And Jae-Ha is chuckling in that obnoxious way of his. "Can't miss a chance to play mother hen, can you, Yoon?"

Yoon scowls, more from habit than anything else. Jae-Ha's comments don't seem quite as annoying as usual, nor does his unasked-for help (lifting Yoon like a child from the centre of the group and depositing him gently at Hak's side). There, Yona fusses over Hak's wound while he insists he can take care of it himself and Yoon scolds both of them while instructing how to do these things properly. In the meantime, the others occupy themselves with building a fire so the group can begin to dry off their waterfall-soaked clothing.

Once Hak is bandaged up to Yoon's exacting standards, the other dragons take turns submitting to Yona's ministrations and Yoon's somewhat bossy instructions. It's a good thing he doesn't have to move much, he admits to himself, because his limbs do feel rather heavy and his head light. The warmth from the now-crackling fire only adds to the slow lethargy spreading through him.

There's a buzz of conversation and laughter filling the cave, soothing to the ears like the rush of the waterfall outside. The noise lulls Yoon into a near-doze, his chin tipping forward and his eyelids drooping shut— til he notices Yona trying to apply crushed yarrow to Shin-Ah's bruises and he jerks awake with a warning. Doesn't anyone know that yarrow is meant only for open cuts? Seriously, they'd be helpless without him… probably start pouring willow bark tea on their wounds… or treating headaches with… ow.

He wasn't aware he was leaning back until his head clipped the rock wall behind him. But even now he can't summon the energy to lift a hand to the back of his skull to probe for damage. He'd rather just… close his eyes, and…

He blinks blearily when he feels a hand at his head, threading under his hair to press gently at the— ow— sore spot. He blinks a little more rapidly when it computes that it's not his hand.

"No permanent damage," comes Hak's voice, gruffly. And the (rather large, Yoon notes) hand tugs a little and Yoon's head comes to rest on something a little softer and warmer than the rock wall. A shoulder.

He could pull away, annoyed and embarrassed and "I'm comfortable enough with the rock to lean on, thank you very much." But for some reason Jae-Ha's words come drifting back to him through the murmur of water and conversation: "You're just trying to salvage your pride. But if you want my advice, give up now." And instead of the rush of anger, and shame, and fear that those words inspired before, Yoon feels only a wry sort of acceptance. Jae-Ha isn't wrong all the time.

He leans further into Hak's shoulder and gets comfortable.

And it isn't long before Yona lets out an unladylike yawn and curls up at Yoon's other side, and Zeno settles in beside her, hands behind his head. Then Kija approaches and drapes something over them— a large cloth, still warm from the fire. Yoon peeks through his lashes at it and realizes it's blue.

Hak's cloak— again— it seems he can't escape. Well, whatever. He's got other things to worry about than borrowing clothing, like how he's going to replace the poultices and bandages they used up today. And how he's going to scavenge ingredients to make a meal of decent quality for once. Of course, that might have to wait a bit, until he's got a bit more of his strength back— but honestly, the longer the group has to endure Hak's cooking, the more they'll appreciate Yoon's meals in future.

That lingering tightness in his chest he'd been carrying for what seemed like ages has vanished, and it's all too easy to drop off into a contented and finally peaceful sleep. One final thought surfaces before he slips away, and brings the slightest smile to his lips:

They really would be lost without him.

FIN

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A/N: Thanks for sticking with me through this one, and I hope this fulfilled all (or at least some) of your Yoon h/c needs.

If anyone's interested, fun fact about the writing process for this story: I started it in July 2015—wrote the first three chapters, and then let it sit around for months, occasionally adding a couple hundred words when I had the inspiration or just forced myself to work on it. The last half of this chapter I wrote just recently, in a final bid to finish the thing off. I'm actually so proud to have finished this, my first complete multichap *wipes tear*

I am curious, though, if people noticed a difference in my writing style throughout, since it was written over a long time period. Any thoughts you'd like to share are welcome, about this or anything at all. :)

À la prochaine!