A/N:  I've received several requests to write another chapter for this, with one person even waiting until my Halloween requests were open to do so, so here goes.  This will be the absolute last chapter of this story, though, so there will be no need to ask for another chapter, in future.  This is unedited, because...*shrugs*  I'm lazy.

Where we left:

“Ahgassi, I’m sorry to burden you like this, but there has been a power outage in the west wing of the hospital, so we’re having to double up on rooms until the electricity can be restored.  You don’t mind, do you?”

“It’s fine,” you whispered.  “I don’t care.”

“Excellent!” You heard him turn and call, “Bring him in.”

Wheels squeaked and protested as another bed was wheeled into your room, then there was the sharp screeching noise of the curtain being pulled back.  

“There!  Now, isn’t that nice!  You two can talk a bit; cheer each other up.”  You sensed the doctor leaning closer to you. “Ahgasshi, try to calm him down a bit, hm?  He just woke up from a veeery long sleep, and he’s a bit agitated.”  

You heard his footsteps as he made his way to the other bed.  “Haksaeng, keep her company. She’s a bit depressed; try to cheer her up a bit, hm?  Hm? Well…” His footsteps retreated, and you next heard him from across the room. “Aegidul...whatever it is...don’t let it trouble you, so.  As long as you’re alive, there’s hope. Strength! Fighting!”

Tears seeped from the corners of your eyes, as you tried desperately to keep from crying aloud.  Involuntarily, a small sob escaped. You heard a soft gasp. Then a shuffling. Something pushed against your senses, but you ignored it, letting yourself sink deeper into the darkness of your depression.  

Then--

“Jagi?”

Your sob hitched in your throat.  What…? Moving your arm, you turned to the bed beside you.  

At first, you couldn’t see anything, the tears blurring your vision.  Blinking, you wiped your eyes, and then tried to make sense of what was in front of you.  

“Xiuminah?!”

“Jagiya?!”

Climbing carefully out of bed, afraid a sudden move might make him disappear like a mirage, you slowly made your way over to him, your body weak from days of malnutrition.  He was pale, so pale--his skin almost like translucent parchment as it stretched over the protruding bones, and his hair was a lot longer than you were used to--brushing the sides of his shoulders, and falling behind him like a black waterfall.  Gone were the sleekly rounded biceps and full chest, leaving only taut rangy muscle, every striation laid bare to your gaze. His body was wasted, as if he hadn’t seen the sun, or a good meal in months, if not years. 

He was the loveliest thing that you had ever seen.

Upon reaching his bed, you stretched out your hand to touch his face.  It met warm skin. Warm skin! “Xiuminah!” Leaning closer, you felt his breath on your face.  Embracing him, you heard his heart beating strongly against your ear. “Nae sarang!” you whispered, your voice breaking.  

His arms slowly reached around to return your embrace and, for the first time, you felt his warmth. 

Hands in his hospital gown, you began to sob. Tears streaming down your face, you lifted your head, to clasp his face in your hands, leaning forward to place fervent kisses against his warm mouth.  “Xiuminah,” you whispered, drunk on his kisses.  You felt him slide his hands to your arms, and push you back far enough that he could look up at you. 

He smiled sweetly, his heart on his tongue as he said, “Minseokah.”

You tilted your head in confusion.  “Minseokah?” you repeated.

Adjusting his head slightly, so that his eyes didn’t have to cross when he looked at you, he grinned impishly.  “My name. Kim Minseok.”

You could feel your eyes round with incredulity before you whispered, “You remember!”  He nodded, looking satisfied, and then you couldn’t see more than a blur as tears washed over your vision.  Crying, you lay your head on his chest, clutching his shirt as you wept.  

“Why are you crying, jagiya?”

“Because I’m so happy!” you blubbered, making him laugh softly.  

Suddenly, there was a bustle of movement, and you felt strong arms wrap around you, pull you away as your brother’s apologetic voice said, “I’m sorry, she’s not quite herself, she’s--”

“It’s Xiumin!” you protested, twisting around to look up at him in indignation.  “He’s alive, and his name is Kim Minseok--”

Chanyeol’s expression crumpled with worry as he swooped down to pick you up in his arms, began to carry you back to your bed.  “Don’t worry, I’ll go get the doctor, and he’ll--”

“Chanyeolsshi.”

Chanyeol froze, his eyes almost popping out of his head.  With a disbelieving expression he slowly looked down at you.  

“It’s really him, oppa.”

“I’m not dead!” Minseok needled playfully from the other bed.  

Carefully putting you down, and pushing your body behind his own, Chanyeol slowly turned to look at Minseok, shuffled closer.  Reaching out a trembling hand, he leaned forward until the tip of his finger touched Minseok’s cheek.

With a mischievous look in his eye, Minseok quickly turned and nipped at it, though his teeth closed on nothing but air as Chanyeol wrenched back his hand with a high pitched shriek.

“Oppa!” you chided.  “You’re in a hospital!”

“He’s not dead!” Chanyeol babbled turning to you, his expression panicked.  

“I know!” you nodded, crooning soothingly. 

“He’s--he’s not--he’s not dead!  He’s alive!” Chanyeol’s face was red, and turning redder by the second, so you grabbed his hands, squeezed them comfortingly.

“No, he’s not, would you rather he was?  Are you less frightened of a ghost?”

At that, Chanyeol blinked.  Straightened. “Wait a moment--he’s not dead.”

“This is what we’re saying,” you quipped.

“So, he was never dead.”

“Apparently not,” you said, at the same time that Minseok said, “Nope.”

“So...he really was just a guy living with my little sister?”

You recognized the trap a second too late.  “Not...quite… He was in a coma. So, he thought he was dead.  That was his soul.”

Chanyeol waved his hand as if you hadn’t said anything, before turning to Minseok, puffing out his chest.  “So, you’re alive, huh? And you were living with my little sister?”

“I’d hardly call it living,” you muttered.

With a slightly manic grin, Chanyeol looked down at Minseok, cracked his knuckles.

“Before you continue,” Minseok said mildly, “I think that I should let you know that I have my memory back.”

“Oh, really?” Chanyeol said, advancing on Minseok, a threatening look in his eye.  

“Mm, and I’m thirty.”

Chanyeol froze.

You pouted, peeking around him.  “So, no noona?”

Minseok grinned at you, his smile so happy and bright as to be blinding.  “I’m afraid not, jagiya. So, Chanyeol…” Minseok shuffled around a bit in the bed, and you hurried to him to help him sit up, raising the bed so that he could rest against it as he looked your brother in the eye.  “How old are you, again?”

Resentment suffused Chanyeol’s features as he glared balefully at Minseok.  “27,” he snapped grudgingly.  

“27…?” Minseok asked, raising his voice in a leading question.  

“27, Kim Minseoksshi.”

With a smug grin, Minseok shook his head, leaned forward slightly as if he were talking to a child.  “27…?”

Veins began to pop out on Chanyeol’s forehead as a fine tremor passed over his face.  “27...Minseok...hyung.”

“Ah...that’s nice!” Minseok said, lowering his speech as he pulled the covers around his waist and tucked them in with satisfaction.  “Oh...hyung’s a bit chilly, Chanyeolah, could you…?”

With murder in his eyes, Chanyeol leaned foward, tucked the covers more closely around Minseok’s body.  

“Ah, yes, that’s lovely, our Chanyeolah, thank you.”

You could literally hear Chanyeol’s teeth grinding.  

A flurry of noise caught your attention, and you turned to see a disheveled older couple, with three young men in tow, come rushing into the room.  Upon seeing Minseok sitting up, the woman stopped, her hands held up to .  

Minseok froze, looking at them.

Bursting into tears, the woman turned to who, you guessed was her husband, clutching onto him as she sobbed.  

Minseok’s own eyes began to shine, as he whispered, “Oemma?  Appa?”

At the sound of his voice, the man, too, began to cry, whispering in a broken voice, “Minseokah?  Our Minseokah?”

“Hyung!” one of the younger men cried, a tall, handsome youth with a sharp jawline and a little kitten nose.  Seemingly unrestrained by his parents disbelief, he ran over to Minseok, jumping into his arms as he too, began to cry.