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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 1 of ?

            Story Status: Work in Progress.

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            As always, reviews are appreciated.

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She woke gradually, lazily, as though she wasn't quite sure whether she wanted to be conscious or not.  But blurry faces hovered before her, vaguely familiar and welcoming, so Jaina forced her eyes open and turned her head.

            "Welcome back, young lady," her father said, helping her slump upright.  "We were starting to get worried."

            When had her father grown so old?  Why did sadness lurk in his eyes?

            "You've been in bacta for a while," her mother told her, wrapping one of the medical blankets over her shoulders.  "The droids took you out today; they said you might wake up soon."

            When had her mother cut her hair?  How had she become so frail?

            Jacen shook his head.  "You got lucky, twin," he told her, tugging her hair lightly.  "If you hadn't been able to land, we wouldn't have been able to get to you."

            When had Jacen grown up?  Where was the lanky teenager she was used to?

            A rough hand stroked her cheek, and Jaina recognized Kyp Durron's concerned face.  "Hey, Goddess," he said softly.

            Goddess?  What was Kyp doing here?

            She looked around the room, confused.  "Where am I?  This isn't the Temple."

            Jacen looked as confused as she felt.  "Temple?  No, you're in the medical wing of the Council's Complex."

            Jaina had figured she was in a medical bay of some sort, since the walls were stark white and smelled faintly of bacta.  But- Council's Complex?  That didn't sound familiar.  She shook her head, trying to realign her thoughts.  "What happened to the Crystal?"  She switched her gaze onto Han.  "Dad?  What happened?"

            Han's eyes went from confusion to sudden horror.  "The Crystal?"

            "Something went wrong with it."  Jaina shut her eyes and frowned, trying to remember.  She remembered the Headhunter's tight cockpit, the joy of flying, the panic that came with trouble . . .   "I think a thruster went out."  She opened her eyes.  "Did I land all right?  What happened?"

            "Jaina, honey . . ."  That was her mother; Jaina turned to face her.  She was older, smaller, somehow more delicate than Jaina remembered.  But now Leia's face was etched with concern.  "Are you sure you're all right?"

            She pulled herself straight, and stretched.  "I feel fine.  Bacta works wonders."  She ended her sentence with a yawn, and grinned sheepishly.  "I'm just a little tired, but I should be back at the Academy."

            Leia glanced over at Master Durron, and Kyp eased himself down next to her on the medical bed.  "Why don't you get some sleep, love," he suggested.  "It sounds like your brain's still swimming around in the bacta."

            Jaina stared at him.  Had he just called her "love"?  He'd never done that before.  "I feel fine," she said, bewildered.  "What's wrong?  What's going on?"  She frantically looked around at the four people gathered around her bed, all of whom seemed reluctant to meet her eyes.  "What happened?  What's wrong?"

            Her mother finally looked up, and Jaina was shocked to see her eyes shining bright with tears.  Suspicion, terrifying and sharp, flooded through Jaina's mind.  Something was wrong, something was very wrong, and no one wanted to tell her the truth of what had happened.  She tensed, and her panicked gaze quickly recounted the people in the room.

            "Something's wrong.  Where's Anakin?  Is Anakin all right?"  Her gaze skipped over Kyp, and returned to her father.  "Why's Kyp here?"

            Han looked horrified, but before he could speak, Jacen cut in.  "Jaina, how many fingers am I holding up?"

            She blinked at her brother.  "Three.  I'm fine, Jacen, you don't need to worry."

            "You hit your head pretty hard," her twin said calmly, though she could sense the roiling turmoil within him.  "What color is Mom's vest?"

            "Dark blue.  Honestly, I can't have hit my head that hard.  I take after Dad."

            But he persisted.  "What color is your lightsaber?"

            "Violet.  Where is it?"  She hadn't noticed it was missing.

            "We put it away for safekeeping," Jacen said.  "When's our next birthday?"

            She laughed.  "Not for a while.  We just had one a few days ago."

            No one said a word, and Jaina was suddenly afraid that she had hit her head a bit too hard and given the wrong answer.  Her voice was small.  "Didn't we?"

            Jacen stared at her for a long moment.  "Jaina, how old are we?"

            Her eyes darted around the room.  "Sixteen," she whispered.  "Aren't we?"  Her voice was pleading.

            Kyp swore something she couldn't fully translate and lurched to his feet, turning to the wall and staring at nothing in silence.  Jacen simply stared at her; her parents both looked teary.  "Mom?" she begged.  "Dad?  What happened?"

            Her mother reached out to take both her hands.  "Jaina, sweetie, I think you hit your head a bit harder than we thought."

            "I'm not sixteen," Jaina said dully.  "How long have I been unconscious?"

            "Four days," Jacen said.  He ran a hand through his hair.  "Only four days."

            "But-"

            "You're twenty-six, Jaina," Han said flatly.

            "Han!"

            Jaina stared at her father blankly.  "Twenty . . . six?" she repeated, dumbfounded.  "Twenty . . . six?"

            "Jaina," her mother began, but in a frenzy of activity, Jaina pushed back the blankets and swung her legs over the bed.  She managed to stand well enough, but two steps toward the mirror and she was dizzy.  Her brother steadied her, and she forced herself to look in the mirror that hung before her.

            No, she wasn't sixteen anymore.  She was an adult- still short, which was sadly obvious in the way Jacen towered above her, but her features were sharper and more defined.  Her hair was longer than she remembered, since tangled though it was, it fell to her midback.  Even her eyes no longer seemed to be the same; they were older, more knowing.

            "Twenty-six," she whispered.  "Ten years."  She felt like crying.  "Ten years gone."  She allowed her brother to lead her back to the bed, where she sat numbly.  "I can't remember.  I can't remember any of it!"  There was an edge of panic to her voice.

            "Hey, hey, calm down," Han instructed, putting a hand on her shoulder.  "Take a deep breath.  Do whatever meditation stuff your uncle taught you.  Calm down for a minute."

            Jaina forced herself through the mediation exercises she had learned at the Jedi Academy.  Finally, she swallowed back tears and looked up at the four people who surrounded her.

            "Ten years is a long time," she said, and didn't like how small her voice was.  "What did I miss?"

            Kyp swore again, and Jaina was surprised to see him fight to keep loss from his face.  "We should get a medic in here first," he said.  "You need to be looked at."

            "All right."  She looked at him, curiously.  "Why are you here?"

            He flinched back as though she had hit him.  "I- we- you . . ."  He gave up and simply looked down at her as though he was imprinting her face into his memory; behind him, her parents reached for each other.  "Do you remember anything?" he asked at last.  "Anything from the War, from afterwards?"

            He sounded so desperate; she wished she could reassure him.  "No," she said softly.  "There was a war?  Did the Empire attack us?"

            Kyp spun away with a low moan, and her mother reached up to put a hand on his arm.  "Why don't you find a medic," she suggested.  "They need to know Jaina's had memory loss."

            He nodded, eyes downcast, and left quietly.  Jaina watched him go, still puzzled.  "Were we friends?" she asked the room in general.

            The silence that greeted her made her nervous.  They had been close, then, and she couldn't remember it.  "I'll take that as a yes," she muttered, and kept her mouth shut.  The room remained silent until Kyp returned with a medical droid; he stood in the corner, watching her longingly– longingly?  How close had they been?– while the droid ran through its tests and a small Chandra Fan healer entered the room.

            "Good morning, Jaina.  It's nice to see you up again," the female said.

            From the familiar tone, Jaina supposed that she had known the healer, but no matter how hard she tried to conjure up a name, none appeared.  "I'm sorry," she said instead.

            "I am Tekli," the Chandra Fan said.  "I have studied under Cilghal for many years now."  She stepped onto a stool and reached a hand out toward Jaina.  "We have worked together often, and if we are not good friends, it is because we have been interested in different pursuits rather than because we do not like each other.  May I?"

            The Jedi's honesty relieved her; Jaina nodded.  Tekli's small hands reached for her forehead.  They were cool to the touch and gentle, and Tekli's eyes fluttered closed just as Jaina felt the first brush of entry into her mind.  She settled back and waited for the healer's assessment.

            It took a few minutes, but Tekli finally pulled away.  "I'm sorry," she said quietly.  "Jaina, you have what appears to be permanent amnesia."

            Jaina ignored the varied exclamations from her family and Kyp, and to keep herself from crying, focused on the healer.  "Will I be able to get my memory back?"

            Tekli could meet her eyes evenly, since the stool put her even with the sitting Jaina.  "It is very doubtful.  You might be able to regain bits and pieces over time, but your brain was very badly bruised in your landing, and you're lucky to be alive as it is.  Perhaps another Jedi might be able to coax memories back, but I wouldn't recommend trying that method for several weeks, as your brain is swollen and it would be best to wait until we are sure there has been no other permanent damage."

            Jaina swallowed but nodded.  "Thank you."

            "Jaina."  Tekli took her hands once more.  "You might not remember who you became over the past ten years, but let me say this: the Jaina Solo that I knew was a good Jedi, a good pilot, and a good person.  I have trusted you with my life before, and I would do so again.  I have seen you at your weakest and at your strongest.  You are a leader that I can respect.  I am not ashamed to have known you."

            Her words gave Jaina back a bit of the confidence she had lost.  "Thank you," she said again.

            "Other than her memory," Tekli said, turning to her parents, "she is physically as well as we could have hoped for after her landing."  She turned back to Jaina.  "You might feel some twinges from your left shoulder for the next few days, but that should be gone by the end of the week.  If it isn't, let me know.  But you're free to go home.  I'll send in a droid with your things."  She turned and waved her hands before her as though she was sweeping the room clean.  "Out, all of you.  She'll meet you out in the waiting room and you can take her home.  Give her time to get dressed."

            Grinning at the image of the tiny Chandra Fan shooing four grown humans out of the room, Jaina accepted two small bags from the medidroid gratefully.  Slipping the thin medical gown off of her shoulders, she stretched out her muscles, feeling the slight pull from her left shoulder, before she turned to the first bag.  It was a simple silver travel case, and she recognized it as being the kind that the medical wing at the Temple had used to collect personal items from its patients.  What she had been wearing when she had been brought to the medical wing in the Council's Complex– whatever that was– would be within the bag.

            Time to learn a bit more about Jaina Solo, age twenty-six.

            She opened the bag and wrinkled her nose.  Tattered remains of a flight suit were carefully lifted out and laid on the bed.  Hopefully the second bag contained real clothes; it looked like a travel bag someone had packed for her.  She turned to it and was delighted to find out that she still preferred comfortable clothes.  Once dressed in the simple brown pants and tan shirt, she returned to the first silver travel case.

            Beneath the remains of what had once been a flight suit was her lightsaber.  Jaina studied it, amazed at how worn it was.  The silver still shone, but the ridge that she habitually rubbed at when she was nervous had nearly disappeared, rubbed down to nothing.  Small nicks covered the surface, and the butt of the handle looked as though it had been dipped in some kind of corrosive acid.

            She took a deep breath and ignited it.  It sprang to life with the same comforting snap-hiss that she was used to, glowing a bright violet.  Somehow relieved nothing had changed there, Jaina thumbed the blade off and attached it to her belt and looked back down at the silver bag.

            The flight boots tucked in the bottom of the bag proved to be the only things left in the bag.  Jaina sat on the bed, unable to balance on one foot long enough to tug them on, and carefully pulled the first boot on.  The sole felt well-worn, molded to the shape of her foot.  She supposed she had owned these boots for a while.  She jammed her right foot into the next boot and stubbed her toes on something.

            It proved to be a small clear bag with a few small belongings in it.  Though it had probably been tucked into the boot so she wouldn't miss it, Jaina glared at it as she finished properly inserting her right foot into the boot.  But her anger melted as she dumped the objects into her hand.

            Most of it was scrap metal– the remains of some multitool or another, she assumed.  But there was a small piece of hard metal with something etched into it; a nametag, she realized.  She held it up to the light and squinted at it, and nearly dropped it in her shock.

            It was a military-issued identification tag, and read, simply, Commander J. Solo.

            Commander?  When had she joined the New Republic's military?  Had she fought during the war Kyp had spoken of?  Still, she pinned the tag beneath her left collarbone.  So, she had joined the military, probably during the war, and had done well enough to gain rank.  Nice to know.

            Two objects left, and both were wrapped carefully in white crinkling paper to keep them safe.  She picked the larger and unwrapped it in her hand, setting the paper down on the bed behind her.  It was a small pendant on a gold chain; she turned it over and squinted at the small letters on the back.

            Finally, she could make out the spidery letters. Still friends, Jaina.  Jagged.

            Jagged?  Was that a person or an adjective?

            Still, it had been important to her before, so she supposed it meant something.  She fumbled for a minute, but managed to fasten it behind her head.  She picked up the remaining paper-wrapped item and unwrapped it.

            The white paper fell to the ground in her amazement.  It was a ring, a relatively simple gold ring with a small line of glittering crystal set in a line along the outside of the circle, the same traditional type of engagement ring that her mother wore.

            She was engaged.

            Jaina sat for a long moment, completely floored, staring at the small ring in her hand, one question ringing through her mind.

            Who?

            She closed her hand around it and shut her eyes.  It wasn't bad enough to wake up and find out that ten years had been wiped out from her head.  It wasn't bad enough that she realized she had no idea what type of person she had become in probably the most important character-shaping years of her life.  It wasn't bad enough that she would probably not remember ten whole years she had spent with friends and family.

            She couldn't even remember which man she had agreed to marry.

            Hell, she might not even know the man she had agreed to marry.  Not if she had only met him during the last ten years.

            A curse remarkably similar to the one Kyp Durron had uttered came through gritted teeth.  That gave her pause.  Where had she picked that little phrase up?  The answer was all too obvious; she had been friends with Kyp, so she had probably picked it up from him.

            She swore her heart stopped beating for an instant.

            He had been in the room when she woke up.

            He had called her "love".

            And her family had looked extremely awkward when she had asked about their relationship.

            "Emperor's Black Bones," she whispered, and she opened her hand and stared down at the small ring.  "Kyp?"

            She shook her head, stunned, and turned the ring over in her rings.

            She didn't remember anything about him, not really.  Older than her.  Friend of her father's.  Jedi Master, one of her uncle's first students.  Fell to the Dark Side years ago.  Helped her dad escape Kessel, years and years ago.  He had a squadron now, didn't he?  She caught herself.  He had a squadron ten years ago.  She searched for the name, and it came drifting up to her.  The Dozen and Two Avengers.  That's right.  He had an apprentice ten years ago named Miko . . . Miko something. 

            And somehow she had agreed to marry him.  She glanced down at her left hand; there was a pale band of skin against the rest of her fourth finger.  She had worn the ring for some time, then.

            She rolled the ring between two fingers, and then slipped it onto her finger.

            It fit.

            Jaina buried her face in her hands, shoulder aching each time it shook with her sobs.  Ten years, ten of the most important years of her life– gone.  Forever.

            Nothing would be the same again.  Not for Jaina Solo, the sixteen year old Jedi apprentice studying under her Aunt Mara, and not for Jaina Solo, the twenty-six year old . . . what? Military commander, Jedi Knight?  Was she a Jedi Knight yet?

            The tears continued to flow.

            Nothing would be the same again.

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Thanks!

-Keth

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