A/N: Hopefully the last (naturally, super unedited and rushed) chapter. Let me know if I missed anything :') Promise I'll get around to editing at some point, i just can't promise when!

***

My legs stumbled as I was forcibly pushed towards the shack we were standing outside of. My feet kicked the gravel as they forced me in its direction, then with a shove to the back that carried enough force to wind me, I stumbled into piles of what I presumed to be hay and muck. The foul stench assaulted my senses, making my eyes water as I spat out what stray strands ended up in my mouth.

I tuned into my surroundings, listening to the sound of snorts and squeals, which I presumed to be pigs or wild boars. My hands restricted, tightly wound behind my back, I had no way of lifting myself up. I could feel the weight of my body pressing down on the hay, causing me to sink slightly, yet that imbalance made it hard to find a hard surface to pick myself up. I tried to roll and feel my way around, but my legs kicked something, which seemed to startle one of the inhabitant livestock as it broke into a surprised squeal. Though I couldn't see its size, I could feel its weight as it trampled my leg, crushing me hard enough that I thought my knee might hyper extend. I cried out, curling my legs close to me again.

The space was dark, not allowing me to see even a fragment of light through the sack hanging over my face. If the animals were pigs as I suspected, then I had reason to believe these people were a rebel group, illegally trading livestock that was forbidden in the country. It meant that this crime went beyond just political warfare, but I was in no position to be concerned with it.

If these people had broken their end of a deal with the Korean military, then there would be inevitable consequences. As soon as my leaders learned of my disappearance, they would send me aid. All I had to do was remain uninjured until that time came, avoiding upsetting these animals until I could be rescued.

Taking deep breaths, I gathered my strength to shuffle around until I came to a wall, then used it to help prop myself up. The pervasive stench of livestock and rotten feed was no consolation for my fate at all, but I thought of Chanyeol, taking comfort in the fact that I would likely be returned home sooner because of this ordeal. Maybe I would get to see him before his enlistment started, too. And I would be able to work hard and build a beautiful life for him to return to.

These thoughts helped to calm my unraveling composure, occasionally disrupted by the squeals and stomping of pigs or boars.

Hours passed, and eventually, the door opened again, and footsteps entered inside. People were speaking Arabic, but their words occasionally mixed with English. While my English language skills were lacking, I was able to detect the occasional word.

"...broken deal... no regard for his son's life."

Then another voice entered the conversation, taking me by surprise when he spoke in Korean.

"That bastard never intended on fulfilling his end of the bargain."

More footsteps approached. More Koreans.

"There are missiles in the distance."

"Are they aiming for the Afghans?"

"No, they're almost on top of us. It's an airstrike!"

"They tricked us! Run!"

Those voices turned into screams, a blend of shock and terror as missiles blasted around us. The ground seemed to lift, throwing me as quickly as I fell again. The explosions came closer, then I listened to the splitting of wood and piercing pig squeals. Then the voices disappeared, and I realized that something was on top of me. Something heavy, something that covered my face and body, smothering me, crushing my chest and any hopes of breathing. I screamed into the coarse coat of fur, tasting the trickle of iron that seeped into my mouth. Blood. Pig's blood. I was buried beneath the still corpse of a beast.

No sooner did the final explosion silence those people, the pigs began to stir. As they rumbled and rolled on top of me, I realized it was not the pigs, but the earth beneath me. An earthquake was ensuing, growing in intensity with every roll. The changes of crushing pressure on top of me, as well as what sounded like a continual collapse of the wooden shack falling around and above me, stirring the dirt and what I suspected could be white phosphorous judging by the rumors that had circulated the camps. Air became scarce, pain seared through my body, and my mind could not find peace.

As the shaking grew more violent, so did the crushing pain of the livestock corpses on top of me. With no vision and no light, my only light came from thoughts of Chanyeol, and the hopes that I would be rescued and returned to him in one piece. That he would not have to worry about me, or fear for my life. That soon, I would be in arms.

I slipped further into darkness, praying that when I woke, Chanyeol would be by my side.

***

My eyes flitted open, welcoming a blinding, blurry white light into my senses. I closed my eyes again, clenching them shut, trying to block out the pervasive ache it caused. I heard voices surrounding me, while the pain and memories returned to me. I had just been kidnapped, crushed by giant pigs in a militant airstrike, then buried in corpses and rubble within a merciless earthquake. The pain was severe, the crushing pain rendering me unable to breathe any more than short, breathless gasps. Somehow, I found my voice, calling for Chanyeol.

I knew in my spirit he would be here when I woke. He had to be.

And then I heard his soothing voice, felt the squeezing of his hands as they covered mine before bringing them to his lips, and my body being pulled against him. I heard his voice, but I couldn't see him, couldn't make out what he was saying. This sense of distance, mixed with the unbearably, crushing pain, left me unable to contain myself as fear and pain gripped me. It was like he disappeared from me. I couldn't see him. I needed to see him. The pain was crippling, and I begged him to hear me, for this pain to go away. Was this vague sense of him only the fragment of a memory during my passing? Was I going to die?

Panic gripped me hard, and I begged not to die. I couldn't leave Chanyeol. I screamed for him, but my voice felt so dry and coarse. Soon, tiredness overwhelmed me, and I slipped back into a deep sleep.

***

In a haze, I remembered snippets – rescuers pulling me from the rubble, voices frantic as they tried to save me. I could feel the cold touch of a ventilator, breathing for me, before being transported somewhere.

What followed was a blur of medical crises, each one pushing my mind further into oblivion. And then the pain tormented me when I woke. My throat was searing in agony, but Chanyeol cared for me, holding me until the nurses were able to treat me. It felt like I had been asleep for mere minutes, which made it confusing that Chanyeol was already here with me. Though he looked different, I knew it was him, because his voice, though far deeper and choked up, spoke with the same tenderness as before I left.

I didn't know what the nurses had given me, but my head soon felt light, but heavy at the same time. Hot, but also significantly cooler. I felt relaxed and more in control of myself, with no pain, like I had none to begin with. It was strange. Unless that was a nightmare rather than my lived experience, a memory, along with the pain I woke up with, there was no way for the pain to cease that quickly.

Chanyeol eventually ordered everyone out of the room. It was strange, because there was medical equipment everywhere, but nothing about the interior of the room suggested this was a hospital room. We were in a double bed, buried beneath a thick and comfortable blanket. His arms were wrapped around me, his fingers stroking my hair. Silence surrounded us, disrupted only by his irregular breaths.

Soon I was strong enough to talk, and Chanyeol filled me in on what had transpired that day.

His words unsettled me, freezing me in response. "You have been asleep for seven years."

I learned that I was not a bargaining chip for those hostages, but a deliberate sacrifice sent out by my own father. His calculated strike had buried me alive, shielded by the creatures that signified my miserable fate. His decision had spared my life at the cost of something much greater... seven years of my life. And the reason my pain subsided so quickly, was because the medication they administered was able to calm the phantom pains that had long since healed.

Chanyeol did not leave my side again. He fed me, bathed me, brought me clothes and entertained me. He sought medication for me whenever the pains returned and held onto me tightly through the night while terror nightmares gripped me. I would wake in his embrace, hearing his gentle soothing murmurs of consolation. We cried together, our tears a testament to our shared sorrow. Though my mind had not truly accepted that such a length of time had already passed, looking at Chanyeol's aged face and haggard, sleepless eyes was a sorrowful reminder that he spoke the truth.

The next day when I was feeling just a little more awake, he helped me sit up against the wooden headboard, propped up by pillows, with a canular taped to my arm as it slowly dripped me fluids. Chanyeol pulled out a box and set it on my lap, guiding my hands to its beautifully and carefully wrapped turquoise colored paper.

My fingers were weak, so he helped me to carefully pull the wrapping. Inside it, I found our pair of matching mugs, with the addition of beautiful gold added to it. I looked at him in confusion and asked, "What happened that they look like this?"

Chanyeol adjusted the collar of his shirt around his neck, as if it had suddenly grown too tight. He looked distinctly uncomfortable, or afraid.

Choosing his answer carefully, he murmured, "This is my promise to you, Haneul. I will stay close to you from now on. I will protect you. I will hold you and love you until I do it right. I will never leave you nor doubt you, I will never stop protecting you, and I will never stop helping you make up for the years that you lost. These mugs represent my own shortcomings, my own failings, but my intense desire to spend the rest of my life making it up to you."

My eyes watered. Why did it sound like he was blaming himself for this? Unless he was directly involved with my father's betrayal, there was no way for him to take fault. I squeezed his hand, hoping this feeble gesture would provide some comfort.

Tears welled in his eyes. "I couldn't protect you."

I set the mugs safely down beside me and pulled him against me, where he sobbed into my chest. He apologized over and over, begging for forgiveness. My heart was heavy, I never wanted to see him like this. A grown man, almost unfamiliar to me, weeping in my arms as he lay riddled with guilt. As if he blamed himself for my condition. He was here for me as soon as I woke up though, and that's all I prayed for as I thought I lay dying in that blown shack. He was here when I needed him, and I would be eternally thankful.

There was some yelling outside the door, and then a woman scrambled inside the room.

"Haneul!" she yelled, scrambling over to the bed. She was reaching for my hand when Chanyeol bounded out, taking me by surprise when he yanked her away and shoved her towards the door. I had never seen him acting aggressively before. "Haneul, it's me."

She seemed bewildered when I didn't respond right away, or perhaps that I didn't recognize her. "It's Jaemin. We need to talk. I need to explain—"

She yelped when Chanyeol shoved her towards the door again. "Get the fuck out," he growled, continually blocking her from approaching me. "You think you have the right to speak to him? Your career's over."

"Haneul, just let me explain! It was the story of a lifetime, I'm sorry. I just need more information from you first and then you'll never see me again."

"You won't ever see him again from now," Chanyeol responded, dragging her out of the room. Their voices were muffled behind the closed door, but his voice would occasionally rise. "I'll send all that money back to you. Never show up here again. Find another scoop or drop dead."

While I didn't understand his uncharacteristic outburst, I could ascertain that the news must have broken out about the attack in Afghanistan, and perhaps my seven-year long coma. Maybe she made false reports, or portrayed a false narrative. Maybe she hacked into my medical records to get the information. But I didn't understand by what he meant about sending her money. Why would he pay a reporter who he deemed to play dirty?

And why did she speak so informally to me?

The shouting soon ceased, and Chanyeol returned to the bed, crawling atop the blanket until he was on top of my lap. He buried his face against my legs and nestled there, murmuring into the blanket, "You won't have to deal with that rotten woman again."

"She's a reporter, right?" I asked.

Chanyeol's eyes widened as he lifted himself up to look at me. "You remember?"

"Remember what?" I asked, querying his strange behavior. "I overheard bits and pieces of your conversation. Am I wrong?"

"No." He shook his head. "You're not wrong. She uses unethical means of getting information and has no right to see you. I'll protect you from harm, including malicious reporters."

I sighed. While I didn't know the backstory, both my heart and mind were too tired to question things any further. I just wanted to enjoy this feeling of being reunited with my beloved after a long three months of deploy... seven years of sleep.

e talked about the future, about plans he had been contemplating during the long nights by my bedside.

One afternoon, as I sat propped up against the pillows, Chanyeol came in with an unusual sparkle in his eyes. "Haneul, how do you feel about a change of scenery?" he asked, his voice tinged with excitement.

"A change of scenery?" I echoed, curious.

"Yes," he said, pulling up a chair beside the bed. "I've been thinking. We've been through so much, and you've fought so hard. Now that you're getting stronger, maybe it's time for a fresh start. Somewhere far from the memories and pain of the past."

I pondered his words, the idea of leaving behind the familiar yet painful confines of the hospital room feeling both daunting and liberating.

"Where did you have in mind?" I asked tentatively.

"New Zealand," he said with a smile. "It's peaceful, beautiful, and a perfect place for us to start anew. I've arranged everything – a home, medical support, and even a plan for us to explore and live freely. And your doctors agree it's a good step for your recovery."

The thought of starting anew in a distant land, away from the shadows of my traumatic past, was enticing. I nodded, feeling a flicker of excitement at the prospect of new adventures with Chanyeol.

In the weeks that followed, Chanyeol meticulously planned our move. He coordinated with medical teams for my transfer, ensuring my health and recovery remained the top priority. We discussed potential activities and places to visit, each conversation adding a layer of eager anticipation to our impending journey.

Finally, the day came. With a bittersweet farewell to the hospital staff, we boarded a plane bound for New Zealand. The flight was a cocoon of care, with Chanyeol and an accompanying nurse attending to my needs. As the plane soared over oceans and continents, I felt the weight of my past slowly lifting, giving way to a sense of freedom and possibility.

***

Our arrival in New Zealand was like stepping into a different world. Filled with the aroma of the sea and blossoming flowers, the air was crisp and revitalizing. Chanyeol had found us a cozy home in a quaint town on the South Island, surrounded by stunning landscapes and friendly locals.

Despite being motionless for years, my rehabilitation has progressed remarkably quickly. Chanyeol told me it was because the staff continued working on my rehabilitation, ensuring my body received regular stretches daily throughout the years. His father's health improved, and so together, the three of us took a flight to New Zealand, where we settled into a cold city on the South Island. Chanyeol bought me hundreds of warm articles of clothing, dressing me warmly every day before I went out to travel and discover new places.

He took me to beautiful mountains, volcanoes, skiing trips, adventures through forests. We stayed on farms where I got to help farmers herd cattle, milk the cows, and even help live births. I played with young goats, rode horses, and trekked through muddy terrain in gumboots. We learned English together, practicing together with his father, and continued traveling around the island. We went on yachts and ferries and made friends with many New Zealand locals.

As my strength returned, our explorations became more adventurous. We traversed through lush forests, learned to ski on powdery slopes, and even joined a local community. The Māori culture, rich and welcoming, embraced us, and we found ourselves participating in many of their traditions, even enjoying meals cooked in the earth.

We continued traveling, exploring, and I did so much in my first two months than I had in all my years before entering the military.

We settled into a city, where Chanyeol bought us an apartment. He continued to work for his company from home, prepared to take the occasional trips back to South Korea when necessary. He enrolled me in a local university, encouraging me to study open subjects that interested me until I could decide which ones I wanted to pursue. He promised to give me work experience with his company if that was the direction I wished to take, and that he would fulfill our lifelong promise of working and finding success together.

Though I missed out on accomplishing it all with him, my heart was full knowing he had worked so hard to fulfill our promise of making it for the day when I would finally wake. He worked hard and prepared this all for me, for the day I would come back to him. It inspired me to work and study hard, learning many things from his father who spent a lot of time helping me as well. His health oscillating, and in the times that it would decline, I worked hard to care for him just as Chanyeol had done for me.

The years passed like this, so filled with love, wisdom, and adventure, that it hardly felt like I missed out on time at all. The world might have moved on without me, but Chanyeol worked hard to make sure that I caught up with it. That I was not left behind. Everything I lost, I gained.

As the chapter of my life closed that night, I drifted into sleep in Chanyeol's arms, comforted by his presence. His embrace was my sanctuary, a barrier against the nightmares of my past. Each day was a gift, a chance to make new memories and build a future together.

In his arms, I found the promise of a bright future.