A Prick of the Thorn: Part 3/3

Posted on Sat Feb 14th, 2026 @ 8:06am by Sergeant Jace Morven & Rook

2,223 words; about a 11 minute read

Mission: Prologue
Location: Rook's Quarters
Timeline: Early 2389

Previously:

Rook leant forward to him, his eyes narrowing slightly as a knowing smile played across his lips. "Thornbane is never far from my reach," he assured softly.

Jace looked at the smile before back at him, giving a small nod. "Classified," he finally said, his way of saying he wouldn't tell anyone.

Continued:

Rook arched an eyebrow, humour flickering through his eyes at the response. "So what do you think of my story, Jace? You are teasing me with your indifference..."

He looked at him before he looked down, thinking about it. "I..." he paused, the frown coming to him. "It makes sense. Not...the flowery bits, not the..." he stopped, not entirely sure how to describe it. So he didn't. Stick to the facts then. "You had a mission. And in the end...you still did it, even when you..." he stopped, looking at him. Studied him, seeing the shape of the man from the story...seeing a survivor. "There was no other way out, she had to die. If she knew you knew, she wouldn't have let you live even if you said you were on her side."

Rook's lips parted as he leant back into the sofa, crossing his legs languidly. Jace believed it. He wasn't even questioning it. Not a single word. "Aren't you just a delightful audience..."

"Shouldn't I be?" Jace asked with confusion, meeting his eyes for a moment before he looked down at the dagger, studying it.

Rook watched how he looked at it, and let him. He even leant in close to him, lowering his voice with a soft, suggestive smile. "Would you like to hold it, Jace? I'd let you."

Jace's eyes snapped to Rook at the words, at the offer. At the closeness. "Don't you want your second story first?" he asked, not rejecting the idea...in fact his hand twitched at the idea of picking up the blade to feel the weight and balance, but...there had been a bargain. And now it felt...different.

"Hm..." Rook tilted his head, watching him with unbridled curiosity. "What do you want, Jace?" he asked instead. Because it was something that was always hard to discern in the other man.

Jace looked at him for a moment before he reached out for the knife. He stood as he took it, feeling the weight in his hand, the balance. He moved it slowly, inspecting it. "I don't know what I want," he admitted as he held the knife. He shifted his grip, finding how it seemed to move with him. A beautiful thing, but deadly. He flicked it, eyes on what he was doing...it let the words come easier. "I thought all I wanted was just to survive. Another day. Another breath. Lately...I've been thinking more about what there is beyond that."

"And what do you see?" Rook encouraged, never having heard him talk like that before. If he was concerned about being so close to Jace while he handled his weapon, it didn't show. Instead, he took the chance to refill his glass.

"I don't know," Jace admitted, holding the blade up to the gentle light to study it closer. He ran a thumb along the edge, careful not to cut. "I see other people doing things…and I don't know how to bridge that gap." He lowered the knife, still holding it, looking at Rook. "It's a good weapon. A bit...loud...in dark spaces. The stones shine."

Rook stood elegantly, moving closer to him, deliberately pushing into his space...just a touch. "It suits you....looks fetching in your hand."

Jace stayed still but there was a slight tensing in his shoulders, the way held his head. It was minimal, barely something to register as he watched him. He shifted the knife, carefully offering it to, hilt first. "I've always had...more straight forward knives. Never about beauty."

"Never about beauty?" Rook asked with a small smile, his eyes glinting as he moved in closer to him. He reached for the offered blade, but his fingers slid over Jace's hand on their way to grasp the hilt.

Jace stayed still, not even breathing, but something softened in his eyes when confusion bled through at the touch. "Just an edge to keep me breathing," he said, voice quiet. Something inside of him kept him still even when another instinct told him to drop the knife and move, to retreat.

"Hm," Rook tilted his head, his roguish smile remaining as his gaze grazed the other man's eyes and lips. He secured the dagger to his belt, but made no move to step back from him. "There's more to life than just breathing..."

Jace's hand fell to his side, his body tensing as he watched Rook. Not his eyes, that seemed...too much. But the dark hair and the braid by his ear, the nick in it. "Maybe. But breathing means you are still alive. If you're still alive, you keep moving forward," he spoke quietly, not quite a whisper, but not far above.

"A strong heart says so much about a man..." Rook agreed with a soft chuckle, a rich sound that barely left the throat. He was tempted to try and catch his gaze, but his instinct told him not to. "Would you let me feel your heartbeat, Jace?"

Jace's mouth went dry, the question...the ask making goosebumps break out on his skin. He didn't trust his voice, instead gave a small nod, his hands staying relaxed by sheer will. And yet for it, for the feeling he couldn't describe, his heart was beating steadily....a little faster than baseline, but not much. That too was control, he knew that. He knew it wasn't normal.

Rook nodded in return, as if acquiescing to his request rather than the other way around. He kept close, his midnight blue eyes watching him intently as he moved his hand slowly between them. He brushed his fingertips to the man's chest, feeling the firmness as they moved, his fingers sliding until his palm was pressed over his heart. He held his own breath, silent as he felt the rhythm throb against the warm flesh. "You don't disappoint."

Jace didn't breathe either, standing still, his eyes lowering...not looking at him, it would be too much if he did. But for a moment the touch was there and he let it happen. The tenderness it was done with almost made him move away from it, but there was a hint of...he wasn't sure what. Something. Something that kept him there, and it wasn't something peaceful or gentle. It was the knowledge of a different kind of survivor touching him, that there was something else.

Rook licked his lips for a moment, just studying him, feeling him, soaking up the intimacy of their closeness. He could smell the man's skin, and how the top note changed. He chuckled softly, finally letting his hand drop, but the fingertips grazed the firm torso along the way. "You owe me a story."

The reset into the bargain made Jace suck in a breath, lifting his head a little. His eyes fixed to the wall for a moment and he blinked...his skin felt too hot. Tight. He breathed slowly through it and took a step back. Not abrupt, but controlled, as if he had always meant to do it. "I do," he said, his voice quiet. He cleared his throat. "You said it could be personal or work. I...think the stories I have, those are...too muddled to be separated."

"Give me whatever you want," Rook assured with an arched eyebrow and tempting smile. He moved to sit on the sofa, but this time, he patted the cushion next to him, an invitation to join him there.

Jace looked at the sofa, at the hand patting. He knew what it was. He could recognise the invitation. He remained standing though, not moving. What he wanted...there was nothing. His skin felt too tight, as if he had pulled back from a fight that had ended too soon. He slowed his breathing, eyes unfocusing with it. A reset, or acceptance, of the moment. He blinked. And knew there was one which was not even mentioned anywhere useful. Was it betrayal to mention it? No. And he believed Rook when he said...he was a vault. A vault was secure, inescapable. This story, like the other, would be safe. A deeper breath. "My squad were ordered to observe a POW camp," he started, shifting, as if he was reporting...at ease, but his eyes went to Rook, watching him. "Just movements, who came and who left. No action, observe only. We did it for five days...until they took out a young Starfleet officer and shot him. The squad...we made a decision, together." He paused and moved forward, his hand going to his own glass. He took it, finished off the Luna ice wine in it. It soothed his throat, which felt raw from the talking. "I wanted to go down by myself. But they...were going to follow. Banik, Terrow, Kerren, Martinez...so it needed to be a...joint decision."

He kept a hold of the glass, letting it settle in his hand, the smoothness and coolness...a sensation he could focus on. "We went down when the sandstorm hit. Took out the guards. Freed the prisoners. I went inside the facility. A Cardassian soldier had been executed, Federation flag around what was left of his neck." He tilted his head a little at the memory, a slight frown coming to him. "He tried to help the prisoners. He was a message. So...I...let go. Of the control. And I killed those inside the facility...the last one, it was a Vorta. She said I had to stay back. It was a request, their...language sounds different when it is a request, rather than an order. I shot her." He blinked and his eyes found Rook's. "The Ground Forces brass didn't court martial us for disobeying orders, but they didn't write it down either. We lived, you see. Would be bad to punish someone for saving someone, even if it disobeys the standing order."

"You did their dirty work for them," Rook assured as he leant back into the sofa, crossing his legs as he watched him with certainty on that. If he was surprised by the story, it didn't show. "You don't just observe a POW camp unless you intend to take action of some kind. You just jumped the gun. And very effectively, but the sounds of it. Five of you against a camp...you must be more of a strategist than you let on."

"The storm helped. Disguised movements, numbers," Jace moved to sit down...not on the sofa. But on the armrest of it, rather than the chair. Carefully balanced yet he looked more relaxed. "It mattered to Martinez. That we went in and stopped it. Or else we'd be like them." He looked at Rook, studying his face. "Going inside and terminating my targets wasn't strategy. It...was necessary. And I didn't want them to do it, or see it."

"Hm, the Dark Wolf indeed, I believe I had you right," Rook's fingers played with his pendant as he watched him with a small, knowing smile. "Or perhaps a dark knight, with his own code of chivalry..."

Jace's eyes were drawn to the pendant, the movement. "Don't mistake...instinct for chivalry," he whispered before he pushed himself to stand. In this light, there was a slight flush to his features. His eyes went to the door. "I get it now. Why you named your blade."

Rook's lips curled into a half smile as he leant back into the sofa, draping an arm across the back of it and crossing his legs lithely. He'd moved him. He'd made Jace feel something unpredictable, and it was deeply, deeply satisfying. "Oh?"

"It's a reminder of the time you let your guard down," Jace said quietly before he let out a breath. "And it could have killed you." He stood, smoothly, before giving a nod. "It's a lesson in survival."

Rook nodded gently, impressed with the insight. What other lessons might he teach him with time? The possibilities were tantalising. "It's also a reminder to indulge in all that life has to offer, because it can be gone with a prick of a thorn."

Jace frowned slightly at the words, unsure what to reply. He had no words. So instead he met his eyes, holding them for a moment. "I am going," he said, deciding he needed to. He had reached what he could do and...well. The bargain was done.

Rook chuckled at the abrupt declaration, nodding as he reached for his glass, lifting it to him in salute. "If you have any other curiosities, do be sure to let me know."

Jace didn't reply. He just gave a nod, eyes on the other man before he walked out, with the same measured pace as he always used as he left Rook, heading to the gym.

---

Rook
Proprietor of The Green Kiss
USS Guinevere

&

Sergeant Jace Morven
Platoon Sergeant, Alpha Squad
Federation Ground Forces Detachment
USS Guinevere

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