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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: Miracle

            Time Frame: Post-NJO

            Pairing: Kyp Durron and Jaina Solo

            Summary: A crash landing leaves Jaina lucky to be alive, but she can't remember the last ten years of her life.  What will this mean for her and the man she was to marry?

            Rating: PG to PG-13.

            Post: Chapter 6 of ?

            Story Status: Work in Progress.

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            As always, reviews are appreciated.

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 SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1

Jaina blinked as the world began to tilt dizzily around her.  "Kyp?" she asked, swaying a bit.  "Can we stop for a minute?"

            Kyp turned his head to look at her.  Immediately concern lit his eyes and his arm was around her.  "You're white as Hoth," he said, guiding her to the concrete planter at the edge of the walkway.  Strong hands encircled her waist; his arms tensed and he lifted her up to sit on it.

"I should have known better.  You're a day out of bacta."

            "I just need a minute," she whispered, not liking how shaky her voice was, how her hands were trembling.  She shut her eyes and took a deep breath, then another.  Had she ever been in bacta for so long before?  She didn't think so.  Four days.  No wonder she still felt a bit shaken.  Four days hanging suspended in liquid was enough to render anyone's muscles weak.  But she had made it nearly all the way home without collapsing; her parents' apartment was only one building down.

            She finally opened her eyes and found herself looking directly at Kyp.  Sitting on the planter's raised border as she was, her eyes were level with his.  "Are you all right?" he asked quietly.

            His eyes were pools of dark green with tiny flecks of brown floating in their depths.  She blinked, tried to focus.  "Yes," she said.  She managed a half-hearted smile.  "Can we sit for a bit longer, though?"

            Kyp turned and sat to the left of her on the planter.  Jaina looked down at her dangling feet; his touched the ground.  "I guess I didn't really grow any the past ten years," she observed ruefully, placing her palms flat on the concrete on either side of her and locking her elbows in place.  She pressed down, felt her left arm twinge, and continued to stretch. 

            "Not taller," Kyp said.  "But you grew."

            Jaina agreed with him silently.  She had stared at herself in the mirror earlier that morning, once she had finished her shower.  Somehow she had grown into a woman's body.  Her face was no longer rounded with the last vestiges of childhood, as it had been ten years earlier.  And sometime in the last ten years she'd developed hips.  That had perhaps been the one thing she'd noticed the most in her reflection.  She wasn't a girl anymore.  She'd grown into a woman's body.   Brown hair fell much longer than it had, and somewhere along the line she had decided to grow her bangs out, since they were now nearly as long as the rest of her hair.  She was still slender– skinny, Jacen had called it– but where her slightness ten years ago came from teenage metabolism, now it came from actual fitness.  She had been surprised to note the strength in her arms, the toned upper arm and the muscles that flickered along her wrist each time she curled her fingers.  It was a pilot's strength, the muscles developed from years of wrestling with a control stick.  She'd tested her grip and confirmed that she was indeed a devoted pilot: it had been stronger, her fingers more flexible.

            But even though her reflection taunted her with its subtle differences, Jaina had stared at her hands the most that morning.  Of everything, they had perhaps changed the most.  She looked down at them again now, not really wanting to discuss how her body had changed– not with Kyp, who presumably knew her body well enough to discuss those changes with her.  Seeing her hands was still a shock.  The hands she expected to see would have been small, with a few faint scars along the knuckles from tinkering with ships, with callouses from her lightsaber along the palm of her right hand and the tip of her left index finger worn smooth from a burn she'd received as a child.  Though she didn't want to admit it, the hands she expected to see would have been pale and soft, hands of a girl who was only a fighter by chance, not by necessity.

            Her hands now were still small, with delicate slim fingers tapering into carefully trimmed short nails.  Her index finger was still dented slightly with the burn scar, and she still had a line of callouses from her lightsaber handle.  But there the resemblance ended.  Jaina counted again all the new scars, light silver scratches against her rougher hands.  Both palms now bore strips of callouses; they had confused her until she had thought of an X-wing's control stick.  Her right hand had a smaller, newer callous on the inside of her middle finger.  That one had baffled her until she had asked her father about it.  He'd simply opened a cabinet, pulled out a military-issue blaster, and tossed it to her.  Jaina had been shocked to find that her fingers automatically curled around it correctly; the rough patch of skin on her finger came from just under the trigger, where the blaster rested against her hand.  Her hands were no longer the smooth and soft hands of a girlish apprentice, but the hands of a fighter.

            And, of course, the main difference was the line of pale skin under the ring on the fourth finger of her left hand.  Her left thumb went automatically to the band of cool metal, as if to reassure herself that it was still there.  She suspected, based on her hands, that she had a habit of touching her ring like that– it simply felt so normal.

            Without really thinking about what she was doing, she raised her eyes from her hands and reached out to pick up one of Kyp's hands.  She remembered what she was doing as he tensed beside her, and gritted her teeth and decided to act casually.

            "Can I ask some questions?"

            She thought she heard a sigh.  "Sure, Goddess.  What do you want to know?"

            Jaina took his hand– it was his left– in both of hers, and turned it so the palm faced up.  "You said we've been living together for six or seven months, and we've been engaged for a about a year," she recalled, studying his palm, not daring to look at him.  "How long have we been lovers?"

            "Just over two years," Kyp said, and from the tone of his voice she could tell that he was fighting to keep it steady and neutral. 

            His hand was just as scarred as hers, just as rough and worn.  Jaina was curious, and so spread her right hand flat out over his, matching her fingers up against his.  Kyp's hand dwarfed hers easily; her palm nestled into his with room to spare, and the tips of her fingers just missed touching his top knuckles. 

            "And how long were we together before that?"  She understood Kyp's trouble in keeping his voice level; hers was alarmingly nervous.

            He sighed, and the hand she held shifted, his fingers lacing through hers and curling tight around her hand.  "A few months.  You and Jag stopped seeing each other maybe half a year earlier."

            "Why did Jag and I break up?" 

            Kyp frowned.  "I wouldn't call it breaking up, not really.  You two just sort of backed off until you were just friends with each other.  No arguing, no one of you brokenhearted because the other left.  You just sort of turned into friends again instead of going together."

            "Oh."  She considered this until her brain kicked in and reminded her that he hadn't answered the question.  "But why did we do that?"

            He was silent for a long minute.  "I don't know," he said at last.  "You would never tell me."  Frustration and something else– worry?  Fear?– laced through his voice despite his best attempts to hide it.  "But he gave you that necklace and you two still seemed friendly afterwards."

            Jaina felt a smile tugging at her lips, and let it spread.  "If I didn't know better, I'd say you're jealous," she teased, meeting his eyes.  "Worried I'm going to run off and leave you?"

            But the intent stare that greeted her had her smile fading.  "Yes."

            The answer shocked her into silence.  He looked down from her surprised gaze, not willing to admit more. 

            Jaina swallowed.  "Did I ever give you reason to believe that I would?" she asked quietly.

            He glanced over at her for a brief second, then back down at their entwined fingers.  "No," he said at last.  "But I tend to be a bit possessive.  You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Jaina.  I don't want to lose you.  Not to Jag, not to this."

            A lump had settled in her throat.  She might not remember being a close friend with him or being his apprentice or even being in love with him, but she did remember the Kyp Durron of ten years before always being somber and alone.  The holos her father had brought her that morning had shown a different Kyp Durron– a happier one, a more content man.

            Jaina scooted closer to him and rested her head on his arm.  "I wouldn't have agreed to marry you if I hadn't meant it," she said, putting her left hand on his arm.  She was sure of it: one thing that she always valued was the strength of promises, of her word.  She wouldn't have given him her word if she had seriously considered leaving him.  "And I'm seriously thinking about what that means for me now."  She took a breath.  "I'm probably never going to remember the last ten years.  I might never be the woman you loved again."

            Kyp was on his feet faster than she thought possible.  He pulled her from the planter to stand before him, and kept his hands on her shoulders.  He simply looked at her, green eyes searching, and then said, "You'll always be the woman I love.  No matter what."

            Tears pricked the backs of her eyes, and Jaina forced herself to ignore them.  "Are you sure?  You'd still marry me even though–"

            "I would," he said firmly.  His voice, when he continued, was hopeful.  "Does this mean you're thinking about going through with it?"

            Jaina blinked furiously, trying to keep from crying.  "I'm selfish.  You love me and you made me happy.  I want to be happy again.  Yes, I'm thinking about it."

            The tension seemed to drain from him in one huge rush.  "Good," Kyp said, and pulled her close.  For half a second, Jaina was sure he was going to kiss her, but then something in his face changed and he simply wrapped his arms around her.  His body was lean and warm and hard against hers; he seemed relaxed for the first time since she'd seen him lounging in her bedroom doorway that morning. 

            Jaina, on the other hand, felt as though all the tension he'd released had somehow slipped from his body to hers.  She was acutely aware of the muscles of Kyp's chest under her cheek.  Her hands rested along his back, and she had to fight to keep them still and flat rather than send them exploring or fisting in his shirt.  She was quite sure she wasn't breathing properly, and wondered vaguely if it was healthy for her heart to pound so fast.  Probably not.

            He bent his head over hers, and she felt his lips press a soft kiss into her hair.  "Thank you," he whispered gratefully, arms protectively encircling her.  "It's more than I could have expected."

            Jaina quelled a shiver.  His voice vibrated through his chest; she could hear the rumble of it against her temple before the words actually left his mouth. 

            "You deserve a chance," she said honestly as his arms loosened and finally released.  She turned toward the building, and then abruptly back to him.  "Thank you for still believing in me."

            His smile was less reserved, less haunted by worry.  "Anything for a Goddess."  He sketched a quick bow, and Jaina forced herself to enter the building and leave him behind.  She crossed the entrance hall, mind half-registering that her mother's Noghri bodyguard was standing in the corner, and entered the lift.  As it started up, she let her mind drift.

            She shouldn't feel so flustered at simply being held.  After all, she reminded herself, fighting to keep her blush from showing, she had apparently been much more intimate with Kyp before. 

            But she couldn't remember anything like this ever happening to her before.  Zekk had held her before; she remembered that.  They had traded dreamy kisses at the Academy– which would now have been years ago, she reminded herself– and had spent long evenings in his arms watching Yavin's sky and talking.  Zekk had certainly been handsome then, and from the holos her father had shown her, still was.  But, Jaina admitted, forcing herself to be ruthless in her thoughts as the lift opened, Zekk had been a boy- a youth, for all his experience on the streets.  Kyp was definitely not a boy.

            She started down the hall, sighing.  A simple hug shouldn't have gotten her so twisted up.  She needed to devote a solid block of time to the problem of Kyp.

            Jaina paused before the door.  Kyp was confusing.  Not good, not bad, simply confusing.  Everything else, she thought she could deal with.  Her parents wouldn't like the news from General Darklighter, but then again, her parents were of the opinion that Jaina belonged safely tucked away in Shelter.  Jaina frowned; where had that bit of opinion come from?  Her subconscious again, no doubt, prodding her with vague bits of information that were completely useless.  Shelter had been that base for the Jedi children in the Maw, hadn't it?  Useless.  Completely useless.

            Still, it was a memory, and Jaina smiled, pleased.  She brought her hand up to the keypad, paused, and let her hand drop.  "Sithspawn!"  She took a deep breath, calmed herself, and then pounded on the door.

            She really needed to ask what the door code was.