ficrepost: "Pietà" Jesus/John
Title: "Pietà"
Fandom: Bible (New Testement)
Featured Characters: Jesus, Mary the Mother, John the beloved, Judas Iscariot
Pairing: Jesus/John the beloved
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Again with the G-d's not mine?
Spoilers/timeline: The gospel, the whole gospel, and nothing but the gospel.
Notes: Stocking stuffer for saffronhouse in Yuletide 2007. Originally posted here. Summary riffed from Great Big Sea.
Summary: The last good joy that Mary knew, it was the joy of eight, to hold her own Son's darling one, when He had met His fate.
Wordcount: 765
Pietà
John, the beloved, collapses into Mary's arms at his Master's command, a mass of dirt and tears and blood and grubby robes, wool, and itchy to embrace. John is still fresh-faced and beautiful, shining in spite of the stream of humors that have blessed him from the cross, rebaptized him with death as cousin John, wild and perfect, never could. John laughs, high-pitched, horrific. "This is the baptism He promised, the Holy Spirit who will remake my damaged body into a sinless soul." His laughter pierces like the soldier's spear, shudders deep into Christ's side and releases another spurt, of tears this time, falling for Himself and for the beloved one.
Hush, baby. Mary is sick at heart and sore afraid, too brittle to behold this firstborn son drenched in sweat and sobbing for release, too weak to hold the disciple whose love and agony are heavier than the burdens she carries in her own heart. But a son's dying word, a lover's last request (hand to cheek, the kiss of peace, brother, more than brother, beloved of my heart, you've given everything, you have become a shadow-man for Me, have died to your childish fancies, become a man in My arms, beloved, promise one more boon --
anything, Master --
Son, behold thy mother,
and be contented to watch over her, to hold her aging, aching heart as she must hold My dying body. Become midwife to her old age, and you will please Me.)
cannot be neglected. So, dry-eyed, Mary holds him, and retreats at a decent interval after the death to his house for the rituals of mourning, to plead with him to tell her, as a small son confessing, the stories that will become gospels, the terrible journey that is Good News to those who do not sit and mourn with Mary and her new son, who remembers:
There was terror all around, terror every moment, terror haunting the campsites, barely kept at bay by bright firelight. There was terror within the circle, betrayal on every face, as every man knew that at the moment of trial, he may more quickly turn, for shekels or honor or safety, than he would die for the Master's sake. Even Judas, whom the Lord trusted with their money, gold collected from the women and alms given by the rich, had become brooding and strange, even Simon, whom the Lord had christened Rock, had taken to patrolling the perimeter with unwonted zealotry. And even John, God's own beloved, had slept away from the light, eyes shielded from the blinding grief that seemed to surround them at every turn, afraid to kiss his Master for fear of the love and sorrow he would find in His face. He listened, though, through the haze of tears, to the disciples who crept by firelight into the Lord's shadow and whispered, "I love You. I promise."
"If I could believe you, Judas --"
"Master, there is nothing I would not give, no sword I would not wield --"
"No betrayal you would not employ."
"Lord, I swear --"
"Don't."
"What promise can I offer?"
"Judas, not tonight. We've traveled too far, I'm weary --"
"You're always weary now. It's worrisome -- I mean, for some of the weaker-hearted -- to see their Master falter as he walks, to hear his voice tremble."
"For the weaker ones. You mean John."
"The beloved." Judas's voice betrayed a sneer, and John's whole body stilled. Judas could kill him, he knew this now. Judas would kill John, and would murder John's Beloved, would betray them to a Roman guard -- Judas's voice was filled with steel, and the Master no longer trusted him.
"John, my son."
Mary's voice shakes; John has remembered too much. It is too heavy for her heart. It is, for that matter, too heavy for his, but it is the burden he promised he would bear. He promised Christ, who is Lord and Master, and he promised Jesus, whose words were sweet refreshment on hot days, whose kisses were like honeyed wine. He promised Christ, whose body was pure flame pressed against his in the very stillest evening silence, and he promised Jesus, whose body, broken, battered, defiled, lies in a tomb faraway, waiting for the ministrations of the women, more faithful than any man, more faithful than Judas, hanged and slandered, more faithful than Peter, who quaked and ran, more faithful still than John, beloved, whose heart is so empty this evening that he cannot imagine that his Lord's tomb will be emptier still
very early tomorrow morning.
Fandom: Bible (New Testement)
Featured Characters: Jesus, Mary the Mother, John the beloved, Judas Iscariot
Pairing: Jesus/John the beloved
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Again with the G-d's not mine?
Spoilers/timeline: The gospel, the whole gospel, and nothing but the gospel.
Notes: Stocking stuffer for saffronhouse in Yuletide 2007. Originally posted here. Summary riffed from Great Big Sea.
Summary: The last good joy that Mary knew, it was the joy of eight, to hold her own Son's darling one, when He had met His fate.
Wordcount: 765
Pietà
John, the beloved, collapses into Mary's arms at his Master's command, a mass of dirt and tears and blood and grubby robes, wool, and itchy to embrace. John is still fresh-faced and beautiful, shining in spite of the stream of humors that have blessed him from the cross, rebaptized him with death as cousin John, wild and perfect, never could. John laughs, high-pitched, horrific. "This is the baptism He promised, the Holy Spirit who will remake my damaged body into a sinless soul." His laughter pierces like the soldier's spear, shudders deep into Christ's side and releases another spurt, of tears this time, falling for Himself and for the beloved one.
Hush, baby. Mary is sick at heart and sore afraid, too brittle to behold this firstborn son drenched in sweat and sobbing for release, too weak to hold the disciple whose love and agony are heavier than the burdens she carries in her own heart. But a son's dying word, a lover's last request (hand to cheek, the kiss of peace, brother, more than brother, beloved of my heart, you've given everything, you have become a shadow-man for Me, have died to your childish fancies, become a man in My arms, beloved, promise one more boon --
anything, Master --
Son, behold thy mother,
and be contented to watch over her, to hold her aging, aching heart as she must hold My dying body. Become midwife to her old age, and you will please Me.)
cannot be neglected. So, dry-eyed, Mary holds him, and retreats at a decent interval after the death to his house for the rituals of mourning, to plead with him to tell her, as a small son confessing, the stories that will become gospels, the terrible journey that is Good News to those who do not sit and mourn with Mary and her new son, who remembers:
There was terror all around, terror every moment, terror haunting the campsites, barely kept at bay by bright firelight. There was terror within the circle, betrayal on every face, as every man knew that at the moment of trial, he may more quickly turn, for shekels or honor or safety, than he would die for the Master's sake. Even Judas, whom the Lord trusted with their money, gold collected from the women and alms given by the rich, had become brooding and strange, even Simon, whom the Lord had christened Rock, had taken to patrolling the perimeter with unwonted zealotry. And even John, God's own beloved, had slept away from the light, eyes shielded from the blinding grief that seemed to surround them at every turn, afraid to kiss his Master for fear of the love and sorrow he would find in His face. He listened, though, through the haze of tears, to the disciples who crept by firelight into the Lord's shadow and whispered, "I love You. I promise."
"If I could believe you, Judas --"
"Master, there is nothing I would not give, no sword I would not wield --"
"No betrayal you would not employ."
"Lord, I swear --"
"Don't."
"What promise can I offer?"
"Judas, not tonight. We've traveled too far, I'm weary --"
"You're always weary now. It's worrisome -- I mean, for some of the weaker-hearted -- to see their Master falter as he walks, to hear his voice tremble."
"For the weaker ones. You mean John."
"The beloved." Judas's voice betrayed a sneer, and John's whole body stilled. Judas could kill him, he knew this now. Judas would kill John, and would murder John's Beloved, would betray them to a Roman guard -- Judas's voice was filled with steel, and the Master no longer trusted him.
"John, my son."
Mary's voice shakes; John has remembered too much. It is too heavy for her heart. It is, for that matter, too heavy for his, but it is the burden he promised he would bear. He promised Christ, who is Lord and Master, and he promised Jesus, whose words were sweet refreshment on hot days, whose kisses were like honeyed wine. He promised Christ, whose body was pure flame pressed against his in the very stillest evening silence, and he promised Jesus, whose body, broken, battered, defiled, lies in a tomb faraway, waiting for the ministrations of the women, more faithful than any man, more faithful than Judas, hanged and slandered, more faithful than Peter, who quaked and ran, more faithful still than John, beloved, whose heart is so empty this evening that he cannot imagine that his Lord's tomb will be emptier still
very early tomorrow morning.