-Crimson-
They're on the planet all of half an hour when the riot starts. They were sent specifically in case this happened: Sword of the Jedi and Destroyer of Worlds, there to deal with a potentially catastrophic revolution.
Worlds all through the galaxy have been shoving off the chains of slavery for close to two years now, everywhere the Galactic Alliance hasn't been able-or willing-to reach. Kyp's past as a slave makes him particularly interested in this cause. Jaina's there because they're partners, and she's the Jedi's deadliest weapon.
Sometimes, even peacekeepers need to bring out the big guns.
Someone's hired Mandalorians again. Jaina lived with the Mandos once, trained with them. No one knows how they fight better than she does. And the hired soldiers are on the wrong side.
Standing back to back in the middle of the street, Kyp says, "We haven't done this in a while."
"Done what?"
"Fought together."
Jaina deflects a blaster bolt back to its source, knocking the Mando off his feet. "I can't actually recall the last time."
Tired of dealing with one of the armoured men hiding behind an overturned hovervan, Kyp grabs the vehicle with the Force and shoves it back into the crowd of soldiers. They yell and scatter.
One of them gets in a lucky shot, and the blast hits Kyp in the upper arm. Blood spills in a crimson streak down the sleeve of his robes. Jaina snaps, "Get down!" and he drops to a knee, pressing his unhurt hand to the wound to stem the flow. In the meantime, Jaina pulls her own blaster, shooting under the cover of her amethyst blade.
"I'm fine," Kyp tells her. "It's just a graze."
He stands, and Jaina quickly checks him for any other wounds. There are none, for which she's very relieved.
The fight is over in minutes, the Mandalorians routed for the time being. Jaina drags Kyp into the local infirmary and forceably strips off the outer layer of his robes. His arm is smeared with blood.
"I haven't seen you hurt in years," she says. "Getting old, are we?"
"It was a lucky shot," he insists.
Since the staff is shorthanded, Jaina cleans his wound herself. She's unsettled that he was hurt. She's used to injuries herself, but the thought of something happening to Kyp makes her stomach ache.
Something must show on her face, because Kyp catches her chin in his hand as she's smoothing the bacta patch over his bicep.
"Hey," he says. "I've had worse. This is nothing."
"I know," she says, quickly avoiding his gaze, and he drops his hand. "I've just never liked seeing you hurt. If anyone's going to hurt you, Durron, it's going to be me."
He laughs. The knot in her belly eases at the sound. "Spar with me sometime, then, and you can try."
She gives him a half smile and picks up the torn, bloody robe. It's warm from his body, soft from years of wear. "You want to try to repair this, or chuck it?"
"Repair it," he says. "We aren't made of money anymore."
Jaina hands it back, catching a whiff of the cologne he wears as she does. "We'll go through stuff faster if you insist on bleeding on everything."
He smirks.
"Okay, you're patched up. Let's get back to work."
