~

            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.

            ~

            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.

            ~

            ~

            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 10 of ?

            Story Status: Work in Progress.

            ~

            As always, reviews are appreciated.

            ~

            ~

They spent the rest of the morning– what little was left of it– in the botanicals, just talking.  Jagged reintroduced her to a small Ithorian shop a few blocks away from the hanger and they had eaten lunch, and then he had taken her through the Historical Museum, which was a good two hours' flight away.  They had spent the rest of the afternoon going through the Museum, talking and laughing and simply walking together silently.  The flight back to the neighborhood that Jaina recognized was spent with in quiet conversation: memories, events, small private jokes.  Jaina cherished each tiny bit of knowledge about her past, stored it up in her mind to examine minutely later, when she had the leisure time.

            They'd gone straight from the Museum to the Antilles household, where they ate an informal dinner filled with laughter and friendly banter.  It was something of a shock to see Wedge and Iella look so worn, so old; it was a bigger shock to realize that they treated her as a contemporary, an equal, rather than as the daughter of old friends.  She had always been on friendly terms with their daughters– she even had kept track of them when all hell had broken loose at her uncle's wedding all those years ago– but being on friendly terms with two people she viewed as role models was rather disconcerting.

            It had been strange to realize that she addressed Wedge Antilles as simply Wedge, not the Uncle Wedge of her childhood or the General Antilles of her youth.  For the first time, he looked old, worn, and his fingers were gnarled and slightly swollen with arthritis.  Wedge Antilles had been a legend to Jaina long before he had been a friend, and to see the legend somehow diminished with age hurt.

            But she had kept her opinion to herself, and dinner was lively and a bit rambunctious.  Syal and Myri were grown up, or nearly, and between teasing their cousin and questioning Jaina, the meal went by quickly.

            Though most of the questions directed to her involved Kyp in some way, Jaina managed to get through the evening without more than two or three awkward, panicky moments of sheer blankness.  Wedge and Iella hadn't said anything about her memory loss, but it was plain that they knew of it.  Syal and Myri, on the other hand, were vivacious and bubbly and all too oblivious to Jaina's confusion at times.  She didn't mind– for all the military had asked her to keep quiet about her amnesia, an alarming amount of people seemed to know about it.

            Iella made her daughters clear away the dishes, and then looked over at Jaina just as she stifled a yawn.

            "I'm sorry," Jaina apologized immediately. 

            "No, no," Iella said, waving her hand and leaning back in her chair.  Her hand dropped and was covered by Wedge's.  "You look exhausted.  Long day?"

            "No," Jaina said, and smiled at Jag.  "That's not it.  I had trouble falling asleep last night."  She wasn't going to tell them that she'd tossed and turned fitfully, cursing herself for returning Kyp's cape.  The fact that she'd need a security blanket– of any sort– was not one she wished to advertised.

            Wedge glanced at the chrono on the wall.  "It's getting late.  Or early, whichever you want to call it.  Maybe you should head off and get some sleep.  Tomorrow– today, I guess– is going to be busy."

            She raised an eyebrow.  "Was I supposed to know that?"

            "No, not really, but I figured you were allowed a bit of warning.  Jag, why don't you walk Jaina back?"

            Jaina stood and put a hand on Jag's shoulder to keep him from rising.  "No, I'll be fine on my own," she said.  "It's only a few minutes away, and I want to think."

            Jag looked as though he'd like to argue, but didn't.  "All right.  You're sure you'll be fine?"

            She smiled at him as his cousins re-entered the room.  "I've got my lightsaber and my commlink.  If one doesn't work, I'll use the other."

            "What's that mean?" Syal asked.

            "If someone decides they want to argue with me, I'll use my lightsaber to persuade them otherwise," Jaina teased.  "And if that doesn't work, I'll use the commlink to call for help." And, she added silently, if no one answers when I comm them for the code, I'll use the lightsaber to open the damn door.  It's only eight numbers; I should be able to remember the vaping code.

            "Most people would call for help first and use the lightsaber as a backup," Iella pointed out.

            Jaina merely stretched her smile into a grin.  "How long was I a Rogue?" she asked, and Wedge chuckled.

            "Point, good point.  It was nice talking with you, Great One.  Have a safe walk back."

             A few minutes of goodbyes later, and Jaina was once more on her own.  She shivered and pulled her flight jacket around her tighter, fastening it up and stuffing her hands into the pockets.  She had a lot to think on, and the night was chilly and clear.  It was a good night to think and walk.

            Jagged somehow had made everything fall into place.  Where before, her thoughts had been muddled up into a few confused groups, now she could lay them out in an orderly fashion and examine them.  He'd given her answers she'd desperately needed.

            She had been happy.  That was foremost among her thoughts.  Between Twin Suns, Kyp, family, friends, piloting, being a Jedi... somehow, with all of that in her life, she'd been happy.

            She had been good.  She'd been a good person and a good friend; a good pilot and a good fighter; a good Jedi and a good leader.  Though she'd failed and fallen to the Dark Side, she'd fought her way back to the light– with Kyp's help, but she still brought herself out– and she'd turned out to be a good person.  If the Jaina of ten years ago met the Jaina of, she supposed, a month ago, the past Jaina would be proud of the future Jaina.  Through everything, she'd survived with her sense of humor and sense of optimism intact.  Even if both had been bruised and nearly destroyed by life earlier, they still existed.

            She had been content.  That was easy to believe.  Just the holos her father had shown her had convinced her of that.  In nearly every picture, she'd been smiling or laughing or simply happy.

            And she had loved Kyp Durron.  Oddly enough, Jagged had been the one who convinced her of that the most, and although she would have preferred less embarrassing proof, she had proof nonetheless.  If she had called Jagged Kyp– she winced– then that meant that she had loved Kyp even then, when she was with Jag.

            That little tidbit of knowledge seemed to be making everything else fall into place.  She had loved Kyp.  Kyp had loved her.  She didn't question either of those statements; both were obvious and pure facts.  Kyp still loved her.  She barely hesitated over that.  No, he did.  He'd said so, hadn't he?

            There was only one question of any importance left for Jaina to figure out.

            Did she still love him?

            She paused in front of the building, looked up at the darkened windows of her family's home.  She enjoyed being with him, she admitted.  She missed him when he wasn't with her.  He seemed to permeate her brain.

            And she wouldn't be able to get a good night's sleep if she didn't have something of his nearby.

            She glared up at the building, saw that her brother's light was still on.  She could enter, take the lift up, and use her commlink to ask him to open the door and let her in– no lightsaber necessary, which was rather a shame, as she was beginning to seriously hate that door.  She'd enter her room, change into her sleepclothes, and spend all night tossing and turning and cursing herself for giving Kyp back his cape.

            Jaina hesitated, then abruptly turned her back on the building.  She needed to talk with Kyp at any rate.  Hopefully he wouldn't think her request for something of his an odd one.  She blushed.  Hopefully he wouldn't ask her why she wanted it.

            A little under fifteen minutes later, Jaina took a deep breath and stepped into the building before her.  Kyp had brought her here once, that first day out of the medcenter.  Little things hovered at the back of her mind as she rode the lift up to the correct floor.  She frowned, concentrating on them, as she walked down the dimly lit hall.

            It was almost as though she remembered this.  Jaina continued toward the door, paused before it, and lifted her hand, still desperately reaching out for the memories that made this hall, this door, this man real to her.

            The door cycled open with a slight hiss that brought Jaina out of her thoughts.  She steeled herself to face Kyp and looked up, but no one stood in the doorway.  Beyond it, the rooms were dark and motionless.

            Jaina slowly brought her gaze down to her hand, which rested still on the keypad.  She lifted it and stared at the betraying fingers, which appeared so normal to her eyes.  Had she just entered the code?  It was the only explanation as to why the door opened, and yet...  She didn't know the code.  Did she?

            She cast her mind about for doorcodes, and all she could come up with was the last one she remembered for the family rooms on Coruscant and the one she'd programmed for her door at the Academy, neither of which, she was sure, would have done her any good here.  She must have entered the code; maybe her fingers remembered the numbers even though her mind didn't.

            Why couldn't they have remembered the numbers to her family's door?

            Because that hadn't been home, Jaina realized, stepping into the silent room and quietly shutting the door behind her.  This had been her home.

            She stood in silence for a long moment, taking in the dim rooms: the bare walls, the simple couch, the desk pushed up against the wall and the comm station next to it.  This would have been where she had worked, at the plain desk.  She ran her hand over the empty surface, pleased by the smooth, cool feel.  Jaina turned to face the room, barely noticing that she had removed her jacket and draped it over the desk chair.  This would be the couch where she would flop onto when she was exhausted, where she would curl up to watch holovids after a long day when she didn't want to think anymore.  She sat on it, bounced experimentally, and slid off her boots without really thinking about it.  She nearly remembered this– memories hovered so close that she could nearly touch them.

            She stood, trailed her hand over the back of the couch, and still moving quietly, stepped through the arch into another room.  This would be where she would fix herself midnight snacks, she told herself, standing in the center of the small kitchen.  She moved to the table; there were four chairs, but two of them were pushed against the wall.  This would be where she would eat her meals, where she and Kyp would have had discussions or traded insults over dinner.  Jaina glanced at the counter that ran along the opposite side of the wall.  She could nearly see Kyp leaning against it, watching her rummage through a cabinet for something high-protein to eat to keep her going for the next few late-night reports.  She blinked, and the ghostly images faded.

            She turned and moved out of the room, back past the couch and through the other archway.

            There were two dressers scrunched up against the wall, a much smaller desk with a small mirror above it, and two smaller archways that she somehow knew led to a 'fresher and a closet.  But those were noted absently– what caught her attention was the bed in the center of the room.  Or rather, the bed's occupant.

            Kyp was asleep, lying on the left side of the bed, breathing even and slow.  Jaina let out a deep breath, and stood in the archway and simply looked at him.  He slept soundly– either he didn't have the awareness of his surroundings that a Jedi Master should, or he was so used to her slipping in at all hours of the night that her presence no longer startled him.

            Probably the second, she decided.

            This would have been where they'd slept together, woken together, dressed and prepared to face the day together.  Jaina sat down on the bed– the right side had been hers, she was sure of it– still keeping her eyes fixed on Kyp's sleeping face.  Hesitantly she reached out to touch his face, to smooth at the wrinkles that clustered around his eyes, to touch the silky hair falling over his skin.  Kyp barely shifted.  Underneath closed lids, his eyes moved.

            Jaina sat for a long minute, debating with herself.  He was asleep.  It would be easy enough to pick something of his and steal away with it.  He didn't need to know that she slept uneasily without him; it would be rather embarrassing to explain, anyways.  She stood to move toward the closet.

            A shudder ran through him, and he rolled onto his side, one hand reaching out toward her side of the bed.  It brushed up against sheets, found nothing to touch.  He searched for a minute longer in sleep, then sighed and stopped moving, lying still and somehow defeated on his side of the bed.

            Jaina echoed his sigh.  It wasn't really fair, she told herself, lowering herself and slipping under the covers next to him.  Neither of them would get any sleep at the rate they were going.  She'd wait until he quieted and was deeply asleep.  It was only fair.  She'd sleep soundly if she had something of his; she might as well wait until he was peaceful before stealing away.

            Though it was rather awkward, lying next to him, not really knowing what she should be doing.  He seemed to be rather completely asleep, anyways– Jaina shifted her weight, preparing to sit up.

            His hand reached over, touched her stomach and slid across it to her hip.  Jaina froze.  The hand firmed, tugged her closer, and in seconds Jaina found herself lying on her side, back pressed up against Kyp's front, his arm heavy and possessive around her.  He gave a long sigh, and tension seemed to leave his body.

            Jaina's own release of breath was a bit shaky.  Kyp was warm and heavy behind her; his arm circled her waist, and his hand rested loosely on her stomach.  She felt, somehow, very small and female.

            And comfortable.  This was familiar; this was right.

            She'd wait just a moment for him to slip into deep sleep.  Jaina let her eyes drift shut.  She'd wait just a little longer.  Just a few more minutes, then she'd slip out of his arms and back outside into the cold night air.

            She leaned her head back against his shoulder.

            Just a few more minutes.

            Her breathing evened; she was asleep all too quickly.