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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 18 of ?

            Story Status: Work in Progress.

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            As always, reviews are appreciated.

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 SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1

Tahiri's steps slowed and finally faltered to a stop.  Danni halted beside her; behind her, Harrar's guards paused as Harrar himself came to stand behind her.  By some tacit agreement, they waited in silence just a few meters from the three fighters.  It gave Tahiri time to compose herself.

            Seeing Jaina was a shock.  To Tahiri, Jaina had always been strong and confident.  Even after the disaster of the Myrkr mission, Jaina had never questioned her choices.  She knew her goals and did just about anything to achieve them.  Even her fall to the Dark Side hadn't diminished her at all, hadn't made her lose any of that perpetual strength she seemed to exude.  If anything, that brush with darkness had made her more of a force to be reckoned with, more dangerous, more edgy and confident.  She had learned what she could do and what she wouldn't do, and that knowledge had been what had made her such an effective fighter and leader.  She knew just how far she could push herself.

            Never before had Tahiri looked at Jaina and seen vulnerability, seen fragility.

            Tahiri's relationship with Jaina was an odd one.  She supposed, in a distant universe where the Yuuzhan Vong had never entered their galaxy, that she might have been Jaina's sister-in-law.  That thought felt a bit foreign, a bit rusty from disuse.  The simplest way to define their relationship, in Tahiri's mind, was us-hrok.  What she'd said years ago granting that bond to Jaina was still true.  What had her words been?  She cast about in her memory, and it didn't take long to find the speech she was looking for.  It had been one of the first things she had said as herself, not as simply Tahiri or Riina, but as herself.

            "I will be grateful to you forever, Jaina Solo, sister of the one I loved.  I will always consider you family, and will protect you with my life.  I vow this on my honor, with all my strength."

            A bit dramatic, even for her, but that was the gist of things.  Jaina had been granted us-hrok, and that was a debt– a promise– Tahiri would not ignore.

            As a girl in the Temple Academy, Tahiri had looked on Jaina with something very near hero-worship.  Jaina was older– old enough to have a lightsaber– and even at the Academy she had been known as a good mechanic and better pilot.  Anakin had envied his older sister her adventures flying, and so a bit of that envy had rubbed off onto Tahiri.  Added into that all the stories of his older siblings, and Tahiri had quite an admiration for both Jacen and Jaina.  She and Anakin used to talk about it, in the lazy afternoons when there was nothing to do but sit on the Temple and dream.  Anakin would tell her of whatever latest adventure the twins and their friends had survived, and he would assure her that someday, when they were a bit older, they'd be able to go off with the twins and be a part of those older, oh-so-different adventures.  They'd all be Jedi together, traveling the galaxy like bringers of light, saving worlds and defending the innocent.

            A rather bittersweet smile curved the corners of Tahiri's mouth.  It had been a child's dream, a simplistic wish for a perfect future.  But then they had grown just a bit older, and they had gone off on their different, new and adult adventures. 

            And everything had changed, and all their dreams had shattered.

            The adventures, while always perilous, had never been so dangerous.  Things never seemed to work out right in the end.  Things had changed.  People had changed. 

            Tahiri herself would never be the same, but sometimes it was the strangest to look back on the others and see how they had changed.  Master Skywalker, now a father and head of the High Council.  Jacen Solo, introspective, quiet, and with an understanding of the Force that dwarfed even Anakin's strength.  The war had changed them all.  Anakin had gone from being that dreaming teenager to a master strategian in under a year.  Jaina, from a carefree girl to a battle-hardened veteran of too many fights, too many losses.  Jag, from a–

            She stopped, and deliberately reached back and tucked her hair behind her ears.  Jag had gone from a non-entity, someone she didn't even know except by his connection to Jaina, to a friend and supporter and then to someone all too formal, all too distant.

            She wouldn't think on more than that, wouldn't let herself wonder why.  It never cheered her up.

            She crossed her arms as the wind picked up.  Beside her, Danni finally spoke, voice soft and cultured even after years of living among beings whose grasp of Basic was rudimentary at best.  "Jaina doesn't look well," Danni observed quietly.

            "No," Tahiri agreed.  "She doesn't."

            Jaina was the strong one, the one who had helped put her together again when her Tahiri-part and her Riina-part were warring for control.  She was the one who was the bulwark of strength in troubled times, the one who, for all her earlier problems with her mother, Tahiri had never before seen as anything but sturdy.

            But this Jaina...  This Jaina looked small and tired, and she clung to Kyp as though the next strong gust of wind would blow her away.  This Jaina was worn out, something the war had never completely managed to do to her.  This Jaina was too thin and fragile, too weak and needy to truly be the Jaina Tahiri knew.

            Then again, this might not truly be the Jaina Tahiri had known.  This Jaina had no memories of what they had shared, the long talks and the close friendship. 

            It was strange to look at Jaina and feel older.  It was strange to think of Jaina as weak, as needing support and protection.  It was strange to think that she– Tahiri– could provide it.  And she would.  She was a friend.  Jaina had offered support before; this was Tahiri's time to repay her.

            Jag approached the two, and put a hand on Jaina's shoulder, murmuring something too low for Tahiri to make out.  Whatever he said, Kyp's arms loosened, though it was a minute before Jaina reluctantly pulled away from him.  He brushed at her face– tears?  Had Jaina been crying?  Tahiri reached out with the Force, felt strong shields, and didn't try to penetrate further.  Besides, Jaina had turned about to face her, Kyp and Jag moving to either side of her, eerily similar in their protective stances.

            It took them less than a minute to cross out of the shade provided by the trio of fighters, and then they came up to stand before the welcoming group.

            Tahiri pushed all her thoughts of how lost, how worn, Jaina looked to the back of her mind, stepped forward, and hugged the older woman.

            "It's good to see you again," she said.  "Even if the circumstances, um, leave a bit to be desired."

            That brought a trace of a smile to Jaina's face.  "Yeah," she said simply, and returned the embrace.  She held Tahiri at arm's length and studied her for a long minute.  Tahiri suddenly felt as though the scars on her forehead were glowing bright and obvious, that the pendent of Yun-Ne'Shel she had taken to wearing was suddenly garish and overly large.

            But her worries were unfounded, for Jaina's smile spread further, into something that resembled a real smile, and she said simply, "You're a bit taller than I remember."

            Tahiri's infectious grin spread before she could stop it.  "That's not the half of it.  Anyway, I don't know how much Kyp and Jag have told you, but this is Danni Quee and Harrar..."

            "They've reminded me a bit," Jaina said, voice still a bit too soft for it to really be the Jaina Tahiri remembered.  Still, Jaina turned to Danni with her smile still in place, then paused.  "Do I give you a hug or shake your hand?"

            "Either works," Danni said, and Jaina stepped forward and hugged the taller woman.  "And don't worry about it, it's not your fault.  We'll have a talk about things when you're rested, and you can ask all the questions you want."

            Jaina nodded.  "Thanks," she said, and moved to stand before Harrar.  "Somehow I don't think I'd give you a hug."

            The Yuuzhan Vong priest merely tilted his scarred head to study her.  "You did so, once," he said in his gravelly voice.  "It was a rather unusual experience.  I can't say I would like for you to repeat it."  He reached forward, and misshapen fingers touched her cheek with a gentleness that was nearly reverent.  "Welcome back, Ve-Harla."

            Jaina's eyes flickered with confusion, and Tahiri spoke quickly to assuage it.  "Ve-Harla is what some Yuuzhan Vong call you," she explained swiftly.  "It means you're an avatar of Yun-Harla."

            Harrar nodded, and let his battered fingers slowly trace their way down Jaina's face.  It was a good sign, in Tahiri's mind, that Jaina didn't flinch away from the gesture.  Some part of her recognized that this was a kind of ritual, a kind of familiar action, and so some part of her deep inside remembered that Harrar had done this before.  That meant that some part of Jaina was still the Jaina Tahiri knew and recognized, not this shaken and troubled version that Tahiri was a bit unsure of.

            Harrar dropped his hand, and turned to Jaina's escorts. "Warrior Jedi Master Durron, consort of Ve-Harla," he said stiffly.  "Your presence here is welcomed.  And Warmaster Colonel Fel, shieldmate of Ve-Harla.  Your presence here is welcomed."  And there was a hint of something in the priest's voice that suggested that their presence would be required, that they were there as more than companions– they were to be defenders.  He gestured behind him, and the two warriors instantly stepped forward and made deep, reverent bows to Jaina.  "Warriors Avaan Tsal and Qetlong Hret have earned the honor of serving you, Ve-Harla."

            Jaina looked down at the kneeling warriors, and that part of her that Tahiri remembered surfaced for an instant.  It was as though the warriors had triggered something; she stepped forward and placed a hand on each warrior's head.  In perfect Yuuzhan, she said cooly, "I accept your service, warriors.  Rise and perform your duty."

            Avaan and Qetlong both rose swiftly and moved toward her.  Jag and Kyp stepped out of the way; the two Yuuzhan Vong warriors replaced them on either side of her. 

            But the Jaina Tahiri recognized was gone as soon as the words had come so precisely, so correctly, from her mouth.  Instead, the lost Jaina turned frightened brown eyes to Kyp, and whispered, "How did I do that?"

            Kyp reached out and took her hand.  "I don't know.  But soon, Goddess.  Soon."

            "Soon," Jaina repeated.  "I want to remember."

            Then Harrar surprised Tahiri.  He came forward and took Jaina's face between his hands, forcing her to look directly up at him.  Her hand spasmed around Kyp's for a second before it relaxed, and Jaina seemed to be holding her breath.

            Harrar studied her face for a long minute, then released her.  She still stared up at him, confused, and when Harrar spoke, it was in such a quiet voice that Tahiri, standing less than a meter away, could barely hear him.

            "The Cloaked Goddess is capricious, Ve-Harla.  You of all people should know that.  She plays her tricks on everyone without discrimination, for that is how she teaches us.  Who are you to say that this is not one of her tricks?"

            Jaina merely looked at him, gaze wide and troubled, but Harrar was not finished yet.  The priest looked down his torn nose at her, and Tahiri was surprised by the compassion she saw within his eyes– compassion from a Yuuzhan Vong priest was a rare emotion.

            "This is only one of Yun-Harla's tricks," Harrar said quietly.  "What is the lesson she wants you to learn?"

            "I don't know," Jaina said after a pause.

            Harrar nodded, satisfied.  "I suggest you find it," he said.  "She never plays a trick for no reason.  She does not see with the Creator's eyes for nothing.  You have a lesson you need to learn, Ve-Harla.  The Goddess has seen it fit to trick you into finding the answer." 

            He stepped back.  "Memory is, after all, one of the things easiest for Yun-Harla to shape.  Why she has removed yours, I do not know.  If she will let it regrow again within you, I do not know.  But no trick from the Trickster is ever without meaning or purpose.  Find the lesson needed, and you will find your answers."

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-Keth

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