#The Wren is Near | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kalevalakryze · 8 months

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Firebird

Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Ahsoka (TV) Pairings: Shin Hati/ Sabine Wren Characters: Sabine Wren, Shin Hati, Ahsoka Tano, Ezra Bridger, Hera Syndulla, Ghost Crew 2.0, Warnings: Major Character Injury, Near Death Experiences, Explosions Notes: For Whumptober Day 16 and @sabineweek Day 2 Prompts: “Would you lie with me and just forget the world?” | Gurney | Flatline | “Don’t go where I can’t follow.” + Icarus Word Count: 3,571 AO3 Link: Here!

“Sabine, they’ve got TIE’s taking off.” Ezra’s voice rushed over comms, voice strained from exertion from whatever fight he’d gotten himself into.

“Copy that, do we have eyes on which shuttle is carrying the Lieutenant?” The Mandalorian dropped her rangefinder and rose her eyes to the sky, boot pressed firmly against an incapacitated trooper’s throat where she’d engaged on the rooftops.

“It will be the one with a burn across the third quadrant of its left wing.” Shin followed, and while her voice was much calmer than Ezra’s, Sabine could feel the strain of her altercation across their bond in the force, feel the ebb and flow of the force where Shin used its power to keep plastoid covered troopers off of their closing position, flowing so freely beside Ezra’s that despite the odds being against them, they moved like a finely oiled machine.

“On it,” Sabine cast her fuel gauge a wary look, there was just enough in her tanks that she might be fine, and from the screaming of a TIE fighter arcing through the air, she knew there was no time to top off at the Ghost. A TIE swirled overhead, left wing sparking and burning from a lightsaber having cut through it on takeoff.

“Kark it,” Sabine grumbled, tapping at her gauge with a shake of her head. “We ball.” The woman took to the sky smoothly, jet fuel sparking into a high flame as she dumped more to keep up with the fighter.

The Ghost soared through the sky, streaking past Sabine and offering her a chance to grab on to Chopper’s head to save some fuel as fire was concentrated against the shields and engines to slow down the surviving Imperial’s ascent.

Before the Ghost could pull away, Sabine was throwing herself from the ship’s hull, fingers brushing out as her jetpack sputtered, wrapping around one of the handles poking out past the hull to yank her weight against it, boots scrambling to push against the durasteel, hooking into the space in between ports to keep herself steady.

“Sabine, you need to hurry!” Hera called, exasperated as she pitched the ghost to the side, rolling out of the way just a hair away from the path of plasma as the TIE opened fire.

“Work in progress, Hera!” Sabine shouted into her comms, hooking her fingers into the latch of the tie to stabilize before she could dig through a pouch on her belt, revealing her stack of the newest mixture of thermal detonators and the dye packs attached to the explosives. “Hello, beautifuls.” She breathed, fingers ghosting over the neatly stacked explosives.

Piling them into a fistful, Sabine started planting them each, using the force to sail them across to the inside supports of the fighter’s wings, lining the hatch with enough to blow the top and settling the last couple against the engines, just in case somehow, the hull would survive.

They rose closer to the upper atmosphere, Sabine’s helmet automatically clicking itself shut and releasing pressure to adjust. “Hey guy, I don’t have freefloating in space on my bucket list for the year,” She grumbled, making quick work of getting her charges set.

“Sabine!” Several panicked voices hollered her names, staticy over comms the further she got out of range. The Mandalorian’s head shot to the side in time to watch an X-Wing swing in for a strafing run, she didn’t know the pilot, and wasn’t linked into their comms, but she could hear Hera on their open channel, ripping in to the pilot to get them to stop.

It was too late, however, plasma scorched through the air, singing the air with a heavy smell of ozone. Sabine watched the blue lasers arc towards her before the Ghost could sweep in to incapacitate the fighter. Her legs moved too slow when she pushed off the hull, body turning as she fired up her jetpack, propelling herself away from the fighter half a second before the lasers struck the TIE and ignited her charges.

Sabine’s head turned in time to watch the colorful, fiery explosion behind her; at least it looked as cool as she figured it would, she’d have to make sure she saved the clip in her helmet to watch later.

Her jetpack sputtered mid flight, dropping her right into the path of the first shockwave. She didn’t have much chance to see the TIE go down, when paint speckled across her visor and then she was sent into a freefall, the resounding shockwaves hitting her like brick walls with a personal agenda against her existence.

She was floating in a limbo of dizzy and peaceful, limbs too heavy to move, and her eyelids felt glued shut with weight pressing into her eye sockets to keep her from opening them.

There was a bustle of activity floating into her ears, fading like her grip on the world around her. She wanted to snap at all the people moving around her. Couldn’t they tell she was trying to sleep? A loud, persistent beeping ground away at her nerves, but she was useless in willing her body to shut off whatever alarm was going off.

The beeping grew higher in pitch, there were no breaks in the thudding tone it had carried before. At least the movement in the room seemed to cease, a pin could drop in the silence and bated breath of every body in the room.

Finally, some peace and quiet. Now she could get some sleep.

“Sabine.” There was a distortion in the voice that called out to her, warbling through the very core of her being, through the will of the force. Shin’s voice rang in the notes of their bond, scratchy and deep, but the other voice, the notes she could pick out, a tone she’d only heard in her dreams, a voice and a face she was terrified of forgetting, that had been harder and harder to pick out every day.

She wanted to snap her eyes open, to fly out of bed and run into her buir’s arms, to do something but the stones inside of her skin wouldn’t give her a chance to budge.

“Don’t go where I can’t follow, me’suum’ika.” Shin’s voice sounded strained, and too far away, like their bond was growing stagnant in Sabine’s indecision. Fingers wrapped around her hand, warm where they sparked against the unbeaten pulse point against her wrist. “You promised,” Their voice wavered with emotion that they fought to keep concealed, Sabine hadn’t heard that tone since they’d gotten her back from the Bandits.

Promises meant more to Shin than even their connection to the force, Sabine knew that better than anyone, and well… She intended to keep her word. Clan Wren would still be waiting for her, at the end; The Manda would not go anywhere, the cosmic force would still connect all beings, but if she walked out on Shin now… What kind of Mandalorian would she be? Surely not one who deserved to join her people in the afterlife they’d all strived for.

Sabine stopped struggling to see Ursa, there was no where she could go where her mother would not be able to reach, and if the unthinkable happened and she did somehow forget the timber of her voice or the sharpness of her face, she knew there were hundreds of others walking across the galaxy who would be more than happy to help her remember.

Shin’s hand started to slip from Sabine’s palm; She couldn’t move to reach out for them like she wanted, she didn’t want them to leave her either, didn’t want to see someone else give up on her. Someone was crying, voices were murmuring, she could hear the charge of shock paddles-

The first beep of the heart monitor was hard won, an exhaustive struggle that had the same reaction in the room as the flatline. Oxygen forced back into her lungs painfully, and warm fingers brushed against her pulse point once more, squeezing at her wrist to feel the next thud of her heart in her veins themselves. The tension in the room was cut with each thud and each successful breath, pain reigniting in her body in the feeling of broken bones and half sealed abrasions.

“Better,” She could hear the relief in Shin’s voice as their fingers interlocked with the limpness of her own, squeezing her hand even as the activity picked back up around them.

Ahsoka’s presence washed over her in their own bond, another string that she’d familiarized herself with, the calm soaring feeling that came with each interaction the Master and Apprentice shared through their woven destinies.

“Prep her for the bacta tank,” A medic called out, unfamiliar voice ringing in her ears as cold gloved hands started touching her, though from the warmth seeping into her hand, she was able to rest easy knowing no one had moved Shin, at least until after the calm and quiet suggestion of sleep that had been passed through their bond, and the promise that she would wake up on the other side… eventually.

There was no way to gauge how much time had passed, but every now and then, Sabine would gain an awareness of the real world happening around her. Of Shin’s back pressed into the cool glass of her bacta tank, steadfast in their post as her protector.

“Shin, she won’t wake up anytime soon,” Ahsoka’s voice floated through the void, in her mind’s eye, Sabine could make out the vision of Ahsoka stepping into the medbay, arms crossed over her chest and a carefully impassive look on her face; Ahsoka learned just as fast as Sabine had that Shin didn’t like sympathies, but she also knew that if Ahsoka’s distaste of Shin’s actions showed, the Gray Apprentice would close themselves off further and often turn to violence to defend their actions or beliefs.

“You need to go take care of yourself,” Sabine could hear the lightness of the Togruta’s footsteps as she came to a stop in front of the tank, could feel piercing blue eyes on her suspended form, as if Ahsoka knew that Sabine had some awareness of the world around her.

“I will not leave,” Shin was closed off to them visually, she could not find a way to bring some vision of the other woman to her eye, though she assumed, from the unease rolling off of Ahsoka and the concern in her tone, that her wolf wasn’t doing the best with her incapacitation. This must have been an argument the two force-sensitives found themselves in often, as Shin’s voice curbed on dangerous, the air Sabine could not feel filling with the tension of a hand curling around a saber hilt.

“There is no reason to fight, Shin,” Ahsoka called, calling for calm across their own unstable bond; Her second apprentice varied greatly to the Mandalorian, and Ahsoka had never been able to determine if it had been Baylan’s teachings, or the influence of her time with the bandits that had them so willing to fight in a situation it did not call for. “She isn’t going to like waking up and seeing you like this.”

“Then it will not be the worst thing I have done to her.” They replied, and while there wasn’t a hint of regret, their tone took on something somber that Sabine wasn’t a fan of. The Mandalorian could feel the brush of their muddled presence, reaching out to the anchor point of their bond, to the scar that entwined them together forever.

Drifting off to the comfortable thrum of their force bond being brushed against, Sabine was only half aware of the Togruta sweeping defeatedly from the medbay.

Consciousness did not find Sabine when they emptied the bacta tank and pulled her from it, nor did it find her as she was cleaned up and reassessed, as what wounds were left had been set to heal on their own, with minimal medical interference, now that her body would need to fight on its own once again, enjoying her quiet limbo over the thought of returning her active mind to the real world.

The first time her eyes opened in weeks she was met with dim lights and near silence.

Bandages wrapped firmly around her abdomen, criss crossing against her back where the jetpack had burned and shrapnel had made homes in her skin, now almost entirely healed after her extended nap. Sabine gave her muscles an experimental flex to ensure she could still move, fingertips touching and toes wriggling under the warm blankets; someone must have just recently changed the thin hospital sheets for ones straight from the warmer. Her movement brought the reminder of pain, aggravating sore muscle under the haze of protection offered by the medicine pumping through her IV.

Tired golden eyes scanned the rest of the room next. There was a raw set of armor, seemingly fresh from a forge, stacked in a corner next to weapons crates, where she could see Westar power cells placed carefully on top of the locked containers, and a newer model of a jetpack she couldn’t recall the name of leaning up against it all.

Shin was settled into a hard-backed chair shoved right up against her cot, knees pulled up to their chest and a datapad sitting against them, fingers idly swiping along a document that Sabine couldn’t focus her gaze on. Her wolf looked exhausted, Sabine couldn’t tell how much of the darkness around her eyes was eye makeup, or bags from lack of sleep. Their hair was in disarray, even the braid carefully tied and sitting at their collarbone seemed frayed and rushed, as if tying it had been a mere afterthought to something more important.

The armor strapped to their arms and legs was filthy, burns scorched across unpainted metal and deep groves went unfilled, a state Shin hadn’t even let become of themselves when they’d all been stranded on Peridea.

The only indication Sabine had that they’d showered or changed clothes even once since they’d gone after Thrawn’s contact had been the dark blue of Ahsoka’s tunic bunched up around their torso, leaving their bare arms on display (which, Sabine would never complain about, if only Shin wasn’t wearing gauntlets and pauldrons strapped tight to her bicep), and the way pants so clearly borrowed from Ezra were tied tight around her waist, bunched up and stuffed into her boots with their greaves strapped awkwardly around the extra fabric.

“You look like Bantha shit,” The Mandalorian croaked tersely, wincing at the feeling of glass in her dried out throat. Silver eyes flashed to meet her open eyes immediately, the datapad clattering to the floor in the scramble of their legs to push outwards to turn themselves to face her.

“You look dead,” Their voice sounded as equally rough as Sabine’s own, bringing a teasing smile to tug at the purple haired woman’s lips.

“What, didn’t-” A dry cough rattled her chest, she only managed to turn her head to the side to cough into the pillow, her arms still felt like they were full of beskar. “Didn’t have anything nice to say to anyone? Didn’t say anything at all?” It was meant to be tasing, but the pull of their lips into what little resemblance of a pout they would allow answered enough.

“I’ll go get the medic.” They stood sourly to pick up the datapad, tossing it into the seat they’d been occupying for gotal’ad knows how long.

Sabine finally reached out, atrophied muscles protesting even as her fingers latched around the cold metal of their wrist. “Wait…”

They did, turning to glower at them with a rage that had too much vulnerability under the surface, weakness they did not want the Mandalorian to be privy too, even if she could feel it in the knot of burnt out nerves in her abdomen. “Would you lay with me, and just… forget the world a minute? Ten out of ten recommend.”

Shin’s weight shifted between their feet uncomfortably, even as Sabine forced herself to move, to make room in the hospital bed that felt both too big and too small. “You need the medic,” They insisted, but it wasn’t a denial of the offer; Shin looked exhausted, and the prospect of laying down seemed enough that they’d be willing to let Sabine get away with just a few more minutes without being poked and prodded by medics.

“I need you more right now, I’m not going anywhere,” She let go of their wrist, hoping the invitation was enough to keep them around. IVs and wires were moved too carefully when they’d finally relented, though Sabine could feel the tightness in their muscles ease as their head dropped back against her pillow.

Shin was laying ramrod straight next to her, as if moving would break her, afraid to do anything that could hurt her what a softie, stabbing people one day, then playing statue to avoid inconveniencing them almost two years down the line..

“C’mere, Kurs’kaded.” Another grunt of exertion as she forced her arms to move, though they were quick in how they turned to cave into the touch the minute Sabine offered, tucking themselves up into her side as their face found their spot in the crook of her neck, fisting the fabric of the uncomfortable shirt in their fists as their nose crinkled.

“You don’t smell right,” They complained in a quiet whisper, bringing a tired giggle from the older woman.

“Plenty of time to fix that later, doubt anyone’s been able to nail my skin care routine during my nap,” Sabine’s fingers brushed through their hair, relaxing more and more with how their shoulders eased and the way the force around them felt like it started to clear. “Speaking of naps…”

“You need a medic,” But their voice was already thick with sleep, breath soft where it began to even out against Sabine’s neck, the offer of safety in the arms they’d been missing for so long too enticing; they couldn’t remember the last time they’d slept.

“You spent so long watching after me, let me return the favor, just for a bit.. Someone will come along eventually.” It didn’t take Shin long at all to nod off with the promise, and the press of her fingers against Sabine’s scar to ground themselves to her life probably wasn’t detrimental to assuring her of the Mandalorian’s survival either.

“You’re awake,” Sabine’s attention was pulled from the sleeping blonde for the first time in hours, stopping her thousandth trace of the constellations craved across their skin in beauty marks and freckles.

“Or you’re just tripping really hard right now,” Sabine teased in a quiet whisper, watching Ahsoka as the woman moved to lower herself quietly into the seat closest to her.

Ahsoka’s lips pursed, clearly fighting a smile as her hand came to rest on the open space of the mattress between them, itching towards touching Sabine to verify for herself just how alive her Apprentice was. Sabine gave a quiet, fake dramatic sigh as she brought her hand down to rest overtop of Ahsoka’s, much smaller than the Togruta’s as she curled her fingers around the older woman’s. “What did you guys even do while I’ve been out?”

“Well… Some of us-” Her eyes flickered to Shin before coming back to Sabine with a knowing look. “Waited for you to come back.”

Sabine offered a nod of her head in understanding as she bought her other hand from Shin’s hair to rub circles into their back. “What about everyone else?”

“Mmm. Ezra and I handled the Imperial cell; There were whispers of a New First Order, but it doesn’t seem as if they’re organized enough, not after our last round of strikes.” Ahsoka shifted, hand slipping from Sabine’s to fill the empty canteen that had been sitting, just out of reach, toppled over when Sabine had reached for it in the force, too weak to grab it with her abilities, and too disappointed when she’d found it empty.

Water was filled and passed over gratefully, as quietly as possible to avoid disturbing the slow, heavy breathing from the slumbering wolf; the only reaction they had to Sabine gulping down water was to press their face closer to the movement of her throat and to slip under her shirt, chasing the warmth that had been steadily rising in the older woman’s skin.

“How are you feeling?” Ahsoka asked at last as she returned to her chair, taking the canteen when Sabine had finally finished with it.

“I’m not going anywhere for a hot minute, if that’s what you’re asking,” Sabine promised, knowing that she had zero intention of almost dying any time soon, and that she doubted she’d find a return to the battlefield for at least a month while she figured out the limits her wrecked body could handle.

“Next time, don’t push yourself so hard. It was a close one,”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Sometimes, the student teaches the Master, you know.” Ahsoka’s facial marking rose with the knowing smirk she offered, before she shook her head and rose. “You should get more rest while you can, I’m sure the medics will come to check on you once they believe Shin is asleep and won’t attack them again.”

“.... again?...”

“Go back to sleep, Sabine,”

#sabineweek #whumptober 2023 #day two #no.16 #lyric #gurney #flatline #quote #icarus #star wars #ahsoka series #fanfiction #near death tw #explosions #sabine wren #shin hati #wolfwren #ahsoka #ahsoka tano

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crash-bump-bring-the-whump · 1 year

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Whumpril 2023 - Day 13

Sometimes we comfort the strong brave Archer, sometimes we scare the shit out of him and the rest of the team. c: Thank you forever to @that-one-thespian!! Also is this technically what the prompt asked for? Maybe, maybe not! But it works!

TWs: buried alive, grief, blood, broken bones mentioned, near death experience

Blurry Vision | Support | “I think I need to sit down.”

"Bastian! Mariano!"

Jewel cautiously approached the pile of concrete and metal. The air smelled like spilled gasoline and dust. The air was hazy, choking. She had to tug her shirt over her nose and mouth to even hope to breathe.

It was silent.

Archer was already calling for their two missing people, hands on either side of his mouth. His voice was steady, strong. Jewel felt the panic he stomped down loud and clear, though. The guilt that threatened to swallow him alive. There was no triumphant laugh from Bastian, no shifting of rubble as he stood and announced that explosives were no match for a dragon's hide. There was no pair of dark hands breaking free, no mage with fire in his eyes pulling himself from the destruction like it was the only thing on his mind.

"Can either of you hear us?" Archer started climbing, gripping twisted rebar with his prosthetic as he tried to survey the pile of destruction for any movement. "Fuck--fuck, I don't think they got out." Archer's voice shook, just for a moment as he hauled himself to the top.

"That's, that's a lot of metal." Fletcher sounded faint as he approached too, pulling his sweatshirt sleeves over his hands to protect them as he followed Archer. The twisted remains of construction equipment were half-buried, crushed from the force behind their fall. "That's a lot of metal. How much, how much equipment was being kept upstairs?"

This had been a storage facility for construction equipment. The basement had been their target. Mariano and Bastian had gone ahead to scout, swallowed by the darkness of the stairwell and the click of a door shutting. The rest of them had stayed on the ground level to investigate further.

Elana had heard the transmitters turn on before anyone else.

This trap had been meant to kill them all.

Jewel carefully, cautiously looked around. She scanned, searching for some vague feeling or emotion that could've been coming from Bastian or Mariano. Anything. Even dread, the certainty that they were dying, would've been more welcome than the absolute stillness. The silence was suffocating.

She pressed a hand to her mouth, swallowing down the urge to cry. It would be a miracle to find them alive and unharmed. A deeply improbable, unreliable miracle. It was just unthinkable that they'd still be there to rescue, not after tons and tons of material had been dropped on their heads. Jewel had to accept that they were probably trying to find bodies. They were probably trying to find pieces of bodies.

She had to brace for that inevitable wave of horror and grief.

Bastian and Mariano had been further down after all, deeper in the warehouse than anyone else. Archer hadn't argued too much when Mariano had suggested it--what Mariano couldn't handle, Bastian certainly could. They wouldn't be going alone, either. It would be safe and keep the rest of the team available for backup if it was needed.

They had all figured this would be a trap. An ambush. A fight. They hadn't counted on the person they were tailing to bring down a whole building in an attempt to get rid of them.

Bastian and Mariano's comms hadn't sent out a single transmission since the first explosions went off. One urgent "Get out of here" from Mariano, not even a second after Elana had already picked Fletcher and Jewel up and started sprinting. That had been it. The last words they'd heard--telling the team to escape.

It had been so loud. They'd all been shouting, calling names and instructions and directions as terror snapped at their minds. They'd barely made it out to a safe distance by the time the closest explosives went off. All five of them had collapsed, holding each other. Shaking and clinging. It had been a struggle to not be overcome by all the emotion, Jewel bracing herself against Elana as her head spun.

Now, all they could do was search. Desperately, Fletcher shouted for either of his and Archer's boyfriends. "Bastian! Mariano! Please, anything! Anything at all!" He begged, voice cracking under the weight of his tears.

And then she felt something.

There.

Jewel's attention snapped to one spot in particular. There was a flicker of something: confusion. Pain. Worry. "Over here! Elana, over here!" She shouted, darting to the spot she could feel it coming from. "Under this--this big piece, right here. Can you lift it?" That flicker fanned into something more substantial. Hope. Relief.

Elana laughed, grim and confident as she rolled her shoulders. "Always." Elana got her fingers up under the concrete and rebar slab, and Jewel saw her arms tense. Her shoulders strained as she kept her back straight, breathing evenly as she lifted. Archer hurried over, levering his prosthesis up under it to help. Together they gently set it down, just to the side.

There, half-buried next to a still-partially-standing support beam and scowling in the light, was Bastian.

The dust in the air was too thick, it clung to Bastian's hair, his skin, turning even the dark red of his blood a pasty grey. Bastian tried to move, hissing and gripping his side before he met Archer's eyes and seemed to realize what he was seeing.

"A...Archer?" He croaked as both Elana and Archer started sweeping away everything that covered him. "Is...is everyone okay?"

Archer and Elana finally got Bastian revealed, their hands keeping him from sitting up as Jewel knelt by his side to start looking him over.

"Bastian--fuck, we're okay, we got out." Archer said, holding Bastian's face in his hands. "You're alive. You're here, you're okay." He whispered, as though he were trying to convince himself that he wasn't imagining this. Archer had to take a moment before he spoke again, squeezing his eyes shut. "We haven't found Mariano yet." Jewel didn't miss the tremble in his voice, or how he pressed that terror down further.

"Oh..." Bastian groaned, one hand pressing against his eyes. He was dazed. "He's...he has to be here. Got...we got separated in one of the blasts." Jewel saw how Archer's face twisted, felt how his tightly controlled grief flared high and hot. "Feels like my ribs got stomped on by a bull." Something had cut Bastian in the chaos, freshly drawn blood trickling down his face.

"You might have some broken ribs." Jewel said, frowning. She circled around to his other side, pressing her ear to his back. "Breathe for me, Bastian." She didn't hear any rattling when he did. "Good. Okay, Elana, let's start moving him to the van, be careful with his spine--"

A horrified gasp drew their attention. Fletcher was pulling frantically at a pile of rubble towards the outer edge, tossing smaller pieces aside. Wren was at his side, looking equally alarmed as she saw the same thing he did. A harsh, strangled coughing filled the air as they pulled one particularly heavy-looking piece of metal away.

Jewel felt her own hope soar amid the confusion and pain she could feel from that direction. She knew that cough. She knew that breathless, painful sound.

"Mariano! Mariano, Marito, we have you." Fletcher's voice soothed, and as Jewel stood again, she saw Fletcher and Wren with their arms wrapped tightly around Mariano. He was bloodied, curled up, and completely caked in dust. His hands clutched at them both, leaving grey hand prints on both of them as he tried to catch his breath.

Jewel ran over, realizing that one little portion of an outside wall was still standing at Mariano's back. The metal they'd pulled away had been a solid work table. She could almost imagine him scrambling under it and curling up amid the destruction and noise.

Crouching down, Jewel started examining Mariano. Some possible breaks, some cuts, and he'd be lucky if he wasn't completely black and blue the next day--not to mention the worry about what was in the dust they'd all been choking on. But...he wasn't much worse off than Bastian. This was all fixable. None of it was an immediate risk to life.

As they all slid back into the van, shaking and dirty and exhausted, Jewel slumped into the passenger seat. Archer and Fletcher were in the back. They were holding hands and kissing dust-caked foreheads, helping Elana to keep Mariano and Bastian from getting jostled around too much as a teary Wren drove them back to the clinic.

Jewel had been a doctor for too long to accept miracles as legitimate possibilities. However, maybe this time, she thought. Maybe this time she could accept a miracle.

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