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            This fic was originally posted on theforce.net, where I go by the screenname of SaberBlade.  If you recognize this, don't worry, it isn't plagiarized; I'm simply reposting it here also.

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            General Disclaimer:  Star Wars belongs to George Lucas and the characters belong to their respective authors.  Anything you don't recognize is mine; please respect my muse.  I don't intend any infringement with this fic; it was created because I have an abiding love for Star Wars and a wish to share my interpretation of it with the world.

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            Details:

            Name: Whole

            Time Frame: Post-NJO

            Pairing: Kyp Durron and Jaina Solo

            Rating: PG to PG-13

            Post: Chapter 1 of ?

            Story Status: Work in Progress

            Notes: There is a prequel, Broken, which can be found both on this site and on theforce.net.  I recommend reading it before this fic, though it isn't technically needed.  This story starts a few hours after Broken ends.

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            As always, reviews are appreciated.

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Jacen felt his sister slip into the room, and he turned to smile at her.  She smiled back, but didn't move up to him.  He bent and placed his son safely in bed.

            "He's gotten bigger," Jaina said softly from the doorway as Jacen tucked blankets securely around Veren.

            "Children tend to do that," Jacen agreed, though his hand hovered protectively over Veren's shoulder for a long moment.  The wonder was still there, the awe that this was his son.  He didn't think he would ever outgrow it.

            He forced himself to turn away, and dimmed the lights on his way to the door.  He turned to his sister.

            Jaina was standing before him, watching him with the mocking half-smile that she had somehow grown into while pretending to be the Trickster Goddess.  She wore a simple long skirt and a short tunic, both the same grey as her military uniform.  "The great Jeedai Jacen Solo," she teased.  "Finally brought low by a one-year-old princeling."

            Jacen felt his grin grow across his face, and didn't both to try and stop it.  "Wait til you have children of your own," he said mildly.

            The mocking half-smile spread into a grin that matched his own.  Jaina stepped forward and linked her arm through his.  "Come on. I'm kidnapping you."

            "Really," he drawled.

            "Uh-huh."  Jaina led him down the hall, through the main room, and into his kitchen.  "And I'm also kidnapping your wife."

            "Kidnapping a queen generally leads to a very painful death," he informed her.

            She only grinned.  "I'm a goddess.  I have precedence over a mere queen."

            "Indeed?" Tenel Ka entered the room just as Jaina finished speaking.  She came up to Jacen and took his free hand in hers.  "I think instead the queen shall agree to accompany the goddess with no kidnapping threats.  It will keep the goddess from having to fight her way free of bodyguards."

            Jaina shrugged.  "Whatever.  That works too."

            "And so why are we being kidnapped?" Jacen asked.

            His sister looked up at him, and her eyes were laughing.  "We have twelve hours before we reach Mon Cal," she explained.  "And most of us have been stuck on the Guardian flying basic escort service for half a year.  We're bored.  And since all my pilots are having a party tonight that I can't go to, and since almost everyone's shown up, I decided that I'd throw a reunion party of my own, and I'm going to kidnap the necessary people."

            Jacen laughed.  "Wouldn't it be simpler to just go to your pilots' party?"

            She shook her head was suddenly serious and older.  "I can't.  I'm the General.  They'd be too busy trying to not do anything stupid or insulting in front of me that they wouldn't have any fun."  She shrugged, and was young again.  "So I'm going to throw my own party.  Full of all the people my pilots would be too nervous to have fun around.  So I decided I'd start by kidnapping you two."

            Jacen glanced down at his wife.  Tenel Ka's smile was slow, but the queen of Hapes squeezed his hand.  "Just let me inform Ythr we are leaving, and he will watch over Veren."

—

            Jaina led them through the Guardian's winding corridors to find each of the Jedi that had arrived to support the High Council and many of the higher ranking military officers who had been denied access to their own subordinates' parties.  Eventually, the group became too large to wander down the hallways.  By then, word had somehow spread of the reunion, and people were showing up uninvited to find old friends from the war.

            They took over the officer's mess; tables were pushed aside and a dance floor was cleared.  Someone pressed a droid into service, and soon music wafted through the air.  It didn't take long for someone to open the bar; to Jacen, it looked as though Colonel Mareisn had simply commandeered the bar and began passing out drinks.

            Jaina wove through the crowd, smiling and laughing, and finally reached him.  "I suppose now we need to actually bring the High Council in," she said.  "And maybe even Mom and Dad."

            "Too late," Jacen said.  He nodded toward the general direction of their parents.  "I think everyone's here already."  He lifted his glass at her.  "Congratulations on a successful party."

            Jaina smiled.  "Have you seen -"

            "General Solo," a warm male voice said from behind Jacen. 

            "Colonel Fel," she responded in the same tone, and she stepped forward into his arms.

            Jagged Fel- tall, dark, and ridiculously handsome with dark green eyes and black hair streaked with white where his scar disappeared into his hairline- bent and twirled her in a hug.  "This was a good idea," he told her, green eyes twinkling down at her.

            "What happened to being grim?" she teased him.

            A corner of his mouth quirked up.  "Someone taught me the value of being spontaneous."

            Jaina laughed.  "Nice to know I influenced you somehow."

            "Evening, Jacen," the Imperial pilot said, turning to him.

            Jacen took his hand easily.  At one point, he had been sure that Jag would be his brother-in-law, and had learned to get along with him.  It wasn't hard: Jag was a good man, a good pilot, and, fortunately, a good friend for his sister, if not the love of her life.  "Jag.  How have you been doing?"

            "I've been reinforcing the fact that I prefer flying my clawcraft to dealing with politicians," the pilot-turned-diplomat said drily.  "And you?  How is your son?"

            "Don't get him started," Jaina said, rolling her eyes.

            Both men ignored her.  "Veren's fine," Jacen said, and refrained from telling Jag all the details.  The man would learn soon enough when he had children of his own.  "How is your family doing?"

            "Well."  And Jag's lips twitched into a full smile.  "Except for my little sister.  She's rather devastated that you're happily married- she had a crush on you the size of the Death Star."

            "I- Ah-" Jacen didn't quite know how to respond to that, and was grateful that his beard covered most of his blush.  "Oh."

            Jag chuckled at his discomfort, and Jaina erupted into peals of laughter.

            "What's so funny?" Han asked, coming up to them and suspiciously glaring at his children.

            Jaina was laughing so hard all she could manage in response was to raise a shaking hand to point at Jacen before she turned to Jag and buried her head in his chest, rocking with laughter.

            "Oh," Han said, brows furrowing.  He studied his son for a long moment, and then turned back to his calming daughter.  "Do you want to try that one again?"

            Jaina just grinned.  "I think you should ask Jacen."

            Jacen tried to beat a retreat.  "I think you should ask Jag."

            Han turned to the pilot.  Jag, having lived among the Chiss all his life, had managed to calm himself long before Jaina.  His eyes were still dancing, though, and Han stared at him warily.  "Kid?  Want to explain?"

            Jag smiled again, ran a hand over the white streak of hair running back from his scar, and shrugged.  "Not really."

            Jaina giggled, and Han glared at the Chiss pilot.  "All right."  He turned around, muttering something about finding someone his own age he could understand.

            Jacen laughed then.  "Thanks," he told Jag. 

            "It was worth it to see the look on both your faces," he said.  His gaze swung to Jaina, and then focused somewhere behind her.  "Master Durron," he greeted.

            "Colonel Fel, Jacen, Goddess."  Kyp nodded at them.  "What happened to Han?"

            Kyp Durron had changed little from the man Jacen remembered.  He was still lean and fit, still surrounded by the power he could wield so easily, still somehow a sharply honed weapon ready to strike out at whatever threatened him.  His Force-presence was still powerful enough to make him noticed in a crowd, still aggressive enough to remind Jacen that he had fallen.  But he no longer wore the look of a brooding martyr that had replaced the scowl of years past.  Age had threaded more silver through the black of his hair, and more lines had worked their way onto his face, but he was still a dangerous man to cross.

            Overall, though, Jacen was glad Kyp was on his side.

            Jag chuckled.  "I think we managed to confuse him."

            "Not hard to do, knowing the three of you."  Kyp shook Jag's hand.  "I haven't seen you in a while."

            "Not since Tesin.  I hear you have a new apprentice flying with the Dozen now."

            Kyp grimaced.  "Yeah.  She's a decent pilot and a good Jedi, but I'm not sure Luke made the right choice by asking me to train her."  He looked at Jacen.  "Keshli reminds me a lot of you, actually.  Master Skywalker should have asked you to train her."

            Jacen raised the hand not holding his drink as though to ward Kyp off.  "Oh, no.  I'm not a Jedi Master."

            "Yet."  Kyp shook his head.  "Give it time."  He turned back to Jag.  "How have you been?"

            "Wishing I were flying more and talking less."

            Kyp rolled his eyes.  "I did warn you when you said you'd be turning diplomat.  Not everyone understands that the easiest way to get what you want is to actually ask for it."

            "Exactly.  They'll dance around the point, hint at it a few more times, and finally casually mention how pleased they would be if you would manage to do whatever it was, and refuse to ask point-blank for whatever it is."  Jag sighed.  "Politicians.  I never thought I'd be dealing with them."

            "Oh, it's worse than you think, Jag," Jaina said solemnly.  She leaned forward and dropped her voice to a whisper.  "I hate to break it to you, but you're a diplomat.  That means, roughly, you are a politician."

            Jag glared at her for a long second, and raised his hands in defeat.  "Just don't tell my father that."  Then he reached out and took her hands.  "Speaking of dancing around, they're playing music.  You coming?"

            "Of course."  But before she let him lead her out onto the improvised dance floor, she turned back to Jacen and Kyp.

            "You are going to dance with Mom at least once or I'll hurt you," she threatened Jacen.

            Jacen sought a way out of the closing trap.  "She's here with Dad.  He'll dance with her."

            Jaina snorted.  "Dad can't dance worth Sithspit.  You can.  Go remind Mom why you're her favorite child."  Then she turned to Kyp.  "And you are going to go over and talk with your poor apprentice before she becomes part of that wall."

            Kyp glanced rather guiltily toward the far wall, where his apprentice of the past year was trying valiantly to disappear.  "Oh.  Yeah.  I should probably do that."

            "If you ask nice, I bet she'd even dance with you," Jaina called saucily after him.

            Kyp turned and favored her with a withering glare.  "I get a dance with you after I dance with her."

            "If you insist."

            "Oh, I definitely insist, Goddess."  His voice was a low growl, somehow promising dire consequences would befall her, but Jaina, unconcerned, tugged Jag out into the crowd of dancers.

            Jacen watched Kyp thoughtfully as the older man reached Keshli.  Something in Kyp's tone of voice had caught his attention.  Jacen had begun to learn his wife's simple method of summing up people in a few words.  It was essential in politics, and Jacen thought he had become quite good at it.  He had begun a list in his head of his friends and family, summing them up, searching for the real parts of them, the real selves among all the layers that sometimes covered them.

            His mother was a peacemaker, always seeking ways to make the world around her secure.  His father- well, Jacen had decided that Han had a core of pure scoundrel.  Uncle Luke was a guide, a mentor both in word and deed.  Mara was a guardian, keeping watch over those she loved and fighting fiercely to protect them.  Tenel Ka was bound by her honor: the honor that she kept as queen, the honor that she followed through the Jedi Code.  Kyp was a fighter, dangerous and powerful and haunted.  Jag was, at heart, a pilot, happiest flying out in the stars, though his honor colored everything he did.  Jaina had begun that way, but through the war had changed and become a weapon: the Sword of the Jedi, a protector like the Jedi Knights of the Old Republic.

            And there was a possibility that Kyp- at heart a fighter- would understand Jaina- at heart the Sword. 

            Jaina had been a shadow of her former self before the Guardian had begun her long trip.  She had hidden it well, but there had been something bothering her, something not right about her, since at least the war had ended, since before she and Jag had split up.  She tried hard to hide it from the world, and mostly succeeded in her act.

            But it had been there when he had used the Force to touch her mind yesterday, and she didn't deserve to have to deal with it, no matter how adept she had grown at hiding it.  Whatever it was, it made her somehow less Jaina, somehow diminished. 

            When she had greeted him in the docking bay earlier that evening, he had risked a quick touch of her through the Force.  She was better, but she was not completely healed.  The hole was patched, but still cracked.

            Kyp was a fighter.  Jaina was a weapon.

            Jacen made up his mind.  Kyp had a better chance of understanding what was bothering her than he did; therefore he would ask Kyp to talk with her.  Kyp was a friend of hers.  He had helped put Jaina together back when she had fallen to the Dark Side; he shouldn't refuse to help put her together again now.

            Jacen set his glass down and wove through the crowd.  He would dance with his mother, he would steal away his wife for a dance, and then he would try to talk to Kyp.

            Maybe Kyp would be able to help Jaina.

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Thanks!

-Keth

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