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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 15 of ?
Story Status: Work in Progress.
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As always, reviews are appreciated.
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SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1"It's a frozen ball of ice."
Her words were flat and amused and final, and they echoed oddly in the small living room. Jag simply grinned down at her and uncrossed his arms.
"That's what you said the first time you saw it," he informed her.
"I was right then, I am right now," Jaina said drily. "Honestly, Jagged, look at it. It's Hoth all over again."
"No, no," drawled Kyp from behind her. "Hoth is marginally closer to settled space."
"Marginally." Jaina snorted and leaned back into Kyp; his arms came up around her shoulder and crossed in front of her chest.
Jag found the gesture amusing, for some reason, and felt his lips twitch up into a smile. Neither of the two claimed to enjoy public shows of affection, and he supposed that for most humans, they were relatively unaffectionate in public. They would stand together, walk together, usually with Kyp's arm slung across her shoulder and Jaina's arm curved around his waist, but that was about it. They were rather reserved in public, as compared to many other couples that Jag had witnessed.
But if any of the Chiss saw them standing like that, they'd be branded overly affectionate, if not downright scandalous. It was an amusing thought.
"You do remember what I've been telling you about the Chiss?" he asked.
Jaina snickered. "Worried we're going to misbehave?"
Yes, actually, Jag thought, but didn't dare say that out loud. He settled for simply raising an eyebrow at her.
Her smile grew. "We'll be good. I wouldn't worry about my behavior– Kyp's the one you're going to have to worry about."
"What makes you think that, Goddess?" Kyp's voice was warm and amused; Jag saw his thumb stretch up to brush along the soft skin of Jaina's jaw.
"I'm the daughter of a princess. I was practically raised by a protocol droid. I understand what 'being on your best behavior' really means. You, Master Durron, were raised by smugglers and spice slaves. You're the one Jag should worry about."
Kyp growled something Jag was pretty sure he didn't want to overhear into Jaina's ear; she simply laughed. "Oh, stop complaining."
"I was a member of the Jedi Council for four years," Kyp protested. "I think I learned something about being polite in all that time."
Jaina considered. "You were? Four years?" She tilted her head to the side and back, trying to stare at him, and then gave up and returned her gaze to the rapidly approaching planet in the viewport. "Hm. No, you probably didn't learn much. This is Kyp Durron we're talking about. Kyp and polite don't belong in the same sentence."
Kyp opened his mouth to retort, but Jag beat him to it. "For not having your memories, you're still doing pretty well at figuring things out," he teased her, and was pleased to see her smile back at him.
"Oh, but this is Kyp," she said airily. "Kyp's easy."
"Easy, am I?" Kyp asked. He loosened his grip on her and spun her around so that she was facing him. "And I suppose that you think you've got me all figured out then."
Her eyes were definitely laughing; Jag let his smile spread. "I've figured out that you're going to kiss me to shut me up," she pointed out, her crooked Solo grin spreading wider. "So aren't you?"
The Jedi Master pulled her closer and crushed his mouth against hers for a long moment before releasing her. "I'm getting predictable in my old age," he muttered into her hair. His eyes flickered over to meet Jag's, and Jag could see the contentment there. "Piece of advice, kid: predictable isn't all that bad."
-
"Was I completely mad?" Jaina wondered aloud, staring down at the heavy fabric in her hands.
"You agreed to marry me, so some would say so," Kyp said from behind her. "Or do you have a more specific type of madness in mind?"
She heard the rustling of fabric from behind her and knew that he was changing into his formal clothes, so she didn't turn to face him. She shook her head and stroked the burgundy fabric. "This dress. I must have been mad."
"What's so crazy about it?" Kyp asked, and his voice grew nearer until he was standing behind her. "I always liked it." A hand reached out to touch the dress, and seeing that the arm it was attached to was covered by a sleeve, Jaina allowed herself to turn around.
"It's Hapan-style..." she began, and trailed off as she noticed that while Kyp had managed to put his shirt on, he hadn't managed to lace it up completely. She found herself staring directly at his chest, blinked and forced her eyes to move up to his, and continued before he noticed her pause. "I must have been crazy. I don't know how to do it up."
"Sure you do," Kyp said, apparently attributing her pause to the problem of the dress rather than his chest. "You were on Hapes for a while in the war, and you and Tenel Ka are still good friends. You always wear Hapan-style gowns now."
She inhaled, then released her breath. "I don't remember how to do up the back," she admitted. "I never liked them when I was a kid, so I honestly can only remember wearing a Hapan-style dress once." She glared down at the complex fasteners and ties that lined the back of the gown. "And I don't think it was quite this complicated."
He chuckled and let his hand drop from the fabric. "You'll remember once you've got it on, Goddess," he said.
She didn't think so, but she sighed. "All right. Give me a minute."
He bent and kissed her cheek, but stepped back. Jaina glanced at him, saw with relief that he was facing the wall and pulling on his boots, and quickly shed her shirt and trousers. It was a little ridiculous to feel so embarrassed about the whole situation– he had seen her naked before, presumably– but Jaina would really rather not think about having Kyp Durron watching her get dressed. Rather silly, considering that she was supposed to have married him... what would it have been– four more days?
Still, Jaina moved swiftly, stepping into the gown and pulling it up to her shoulders, slipping her arms through the sleeves. It was a beautiful gown and was designed for cold weather. It would make her not only presentable to the Chiss but [i]warm/i]; she gave her past self that much credit, at least.
She put her hands behind her, felt her fingers brush against laces and ties and extra folds of fabric that went beneath the ties to protect her skin from the cold air. She grasped the first loose tie she found, and waited for some rush of knowledge, some hint that she had done this before. Awkwardly, she twisted her hand across her back, searching for the tie's mate so she could lace up the back of the dress. She had never noticed before how cold the [i]Nissia[/i] was.
After several minutes of cursing both Hapes and her past self, Jaina admitted defeat. "Kyp?" she asked, and felt her cheeks warm with blushing. She turned to face him. "Um, can you lace up the back?"
He had finished his boots and belt, but the damned man hadn't done up the rest of his tunic yet. Jaina forced herself not to notice as he laughed and came up to her. "Turn around, Goddess," he ordered, voice soft. "I'm sorry. I thought you'd be able to remember."
She felt his fingers brush against the smooth skin of her back to smooth out the first layer of the dress. "I couldn't," she said, and shivered.
"Sorry," Kyp apologized. "Give me a minute to lace it up and you'll be warm again."
He thought she was cold. For all his talk about games, the man was as dense as durrocrete.
His fingers were swift and gentle along her back. He straightened the first layer, made sure it was lying flat against her back, and competently began fastening the ties together, fingers and the backs of his hands brushing against the fabric and the skin of her back. Kyp's hands moved with the sureness of practice; Jaina wondered how many times he had helped her dress for formal events.
She waited in silence as his competent fingers finished the first set of ties, smoothed over the covering, and began on the second set. Her skin was completely covered, but Jaina could still feel his hands through the thick cloth. She shivered again as he pulled the laces tight and tied them off, tucking them under the clever Hapan design to hide the fastenings.
"There you go," he said, and his hands rested lightly on her hips. "All done up."
She turned. "How many times have you done that before?"
A smile hovered about his face. "Only once or twice." She caught the glint in his eye, and her brows furrowed in confusion, so he explained further, "I'm really much better at getting all those laces undone and the dress off of you."
She told herself she didn't want to think about it, but the mental images his words conveyed rose and taunted her all the same. She was inclined to spend rather too much time on that particular idea, so she shook her head and reached up to his tunic and began to finish closing it for him.
"You really are a scoundrel," she told him as her fingers deftly did up the front of his tunic. His hands tightened on her hips as she finished the last clasp, and kept her from stepping back. For a brief panicked moment, Jaina wondered what she was supposed to do with her hands, and settled for sliding them down his chest and around his waist, much like he was doing to her.
"You still need to do your hair," Kyp murmured, resting his chin on the top her head as he pulled her closer.
She made no attempt to move away; rather, she fit her head against his shoulders and rested her forehead against his neck. "Yeah," she agreed. "But that doesn't take too long." She paused. "Does it?"
He laughed softly. "Don't ask me, Goddess. I can do up your dress, but I can't do up your hair."
She smiled and shut her eyes. "Somehow I'm not surprised."
A memory hovered nearby, something about her hair and wearing a formal dress and Kyp's help. Reflexively, she reached for it, steeling herself from disappointment, prepared for it to slip through her fingers like sand. To her surprise, though, the memory glided slowly into place, words and actions and emotions misting into place and slowly solidifying until Jaina could only gasp in astonishment and remember– actually remember. Forcing herself to remain calm, Jaina tightened her grip on Kyp, and hesitantly– still not sure if this too would vanish and slip away– allowed herself to reach for the thoughts that hovered just within her reach.
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She is wearing a gown of dark green. She had picked it because the color reminded her of Kyp's eyes– not that she plans on telling him that, of course. The fabric feels like mist against her skin, the top bound tight with a simple bodice bordered in gold, the skirt pooling out around her feet like a diaphanous waterfall of deep green silk. She doesn't like the sleeves overly much, mainly because they were meant to rest on her upper arms rather than her shoulders, and she had worried all throughout the dinner that the entire gown would simply somehow slide off of her. But the dress was Hapan in design and so no such embarrassment had befallen her.
She is home, preparing for bed. It is late, but she doesn't know precisely how late. The windows are dark, and she can't see many other lights outside.
She is happy. She is smiling as she unwraps the glittering black shawl from her shoulders. It takes effort for her not to hum under her breath as she kicks off delicate shoes and unfastens her necklace. Her engagement ring shines and catches the light, and she could nearly laugh at how happy she is. She didn't do anything stupid at dinner, she was polite to all the ambassadors and politicians, and she doesn't have to go to another such dinner for nearly a month.
She hears Kyp in the other room, turning off lights and making sure that they didn't miss any messages while they were gone. She smiles and places her necklace on her bedside table and reaches up to remove her earrings.
Something tickles the back of her neck. A wisp of her hair has fallen loose from the elaborate design her mother had suggested she wear. She shrugs, not caring– she is going to remove all the pins in a few minutes, so it doesn't matter that her hair is beginning to fall down from its twist. But one of the pins in her hair slides out and slips to the floor, and another soon follows. She puts a hand up to her hair, feels it loosen a bit further, feels the slight twitch through the Force that shouldn't have been there as another pin slides free.
Suspicious, she turns towards the door. Just as her eyes meet his, the twist collapses and her hair tumbles down around her shoulders. Kyp's eyes are dark and intent on her, and satisfaction is written across his face.
She laughs and tosses her head to send the few remaining pins flying out of her tresses. He crosses over to her and she opens her arms; in half a heartbeat, he bends down to kiss her, and her hands fist in his formal tunic and all she can think is that she's happy and he's happy and everything is perfect.
And that he always did prefer for her to wear her hair down.
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Jaina blinked back tears and squeezed her eyes shut tightly. The memory hadn't left, hadn't disappeared to leave her with vague traces and hints as to what had happened. It remained, glorious and whole and there.
Kyp's arms tightened then relaxed, and he released her. "Are you all right?" he asked, concern easily audible.
Her eyes no longer stung with unshed tears. "I'm fine," she said, and since her voice sounded hoarse and rusty, she repeated herself. "Fine." She turned and moved toward the very dull mirror propped behind the door.
She nearly didn't recognize herself: the woman in the burgundy dress had the same eyes, the same hair, the same general body shape and facial structure, but Jaina was still learning to recognize her adult body in the mirror. Seeing herself in formal dress, the thick burgundy gown warm and layered against her body, her creamy skin glowing and her eyes bright and shining– she couldn't shake the feeling that this was not her, this was not Jaina. This woman was too old, too beautiful, too poised, too sure of herself and her place in the galaxy. All the things the Jaina of ten years ago had not been.
She took a deep breath and picked up her brush. Her hair was much longer than she had remembered, but over the past two weeks, she had grown used to the length, grown used to the extra seconds needed to pull through her tangled tresses. It didn't take long for her to brush out her hair; it took even less time for her to pull back part of it and quickly twirl it into a simple twist. Jaina secured the twist with a few of the collection of pins she had somehow packed, and then looked at herself in the mirror.
Kyp came to stand beside her, tall and dark and undeniably handsome in his own formal wear. Jaina considered the two of them in the poor reflection the battered mirror gave. He was taller, larger, older and somehow rougher than she; standing before him, she looked delicate and young, protected by the guardian standing behind her.
His hand reached out to touch the hair she had left loose. "My beautiful Goddess," he said quietly.
She had remembered.
She couldn't keep the smile from spreading across her face. "I thought you'd approve," she murmured. "Do I have a green dress at home that I wore with a black shawl to a formal dinner?"
He took a sharp breath. "Yes. Jaina–"
Her smile grew, and she turned away from the mirror to face him, twining her arms around his waist. "I picked it because it was the same color as your eyes," she told him, and watched the eyes flicker with hope. "And I was afraid that it was going to slide right off me the whole dinner long. I wore my hair up, and you, Master Durron, used the Force to take pins out until all my hair was down." She was beaming up at him now. "I caught the memory, Kyp. It was there and I reached for it and it didn't move away. I remembered that."
His hand caressed her face. "Soon, Goddess. You and I will go off somewhere and we'll try and get the rest back. I promise, Jaina. Soon."
"Soon," she repeated, and, greatly daring, rocked up on her toes to kiss him. "Soon. But we're about to land. Jagged will want us to be ready to meet Commander Eskalan."
Kyp kissed her once more, gently, before releasing her. "Soon, Goddess," he promised, waiting as she repacked her bag and pulled on her small warm boots. When she stood, skirts swishing down to the rounded tips of her boots and covering them– she felt a little odd, wearing boots with such a formal dress, but both dress and boots, her mother had assured her, had been made years ago for her first trip to Csilla, and had served her well then– Kyp took her hand.
She was happy again, and hopeful, for the first time since they had left Anas.
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Reviews make my day! Tell me what you think I did well or horribly. I appreciate constructive criticism and honest appraisals…
Thanks!
-Keth
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