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Notes/Disclaimer: Jesus Christ Superstar owns me, not vice versa. Jerome Pradon is my God. That is all.
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Jesus knelt on the soft grass of the Garden of Gethsemane and felt the dew dampen the fringe of his long shirt. He leaned back on his heels with a sigh, feeling an aching weariness in every bone and muscle. Clasping his hands in front of him he prepared to pray, but for once he was unsure of how to begin.
"Father," he started eventually, "I know that my time to die is almost upon me. I won't lie to you and say that I'm not afraid; I'm terrified. I'm sure you know that. But for that reason alone I would not ask you to take away my fate.
"But please, God!" He looked pleadingly up at the heavens, as though his father would answer him. "I don't want to do this any more. I can't! I have lived my life for you, isn't that enough? Must you really have my death as well?"
Jesus paused, letting his brief anger fade, and stared unseeingly at his clasped hands.
"You know what this is really about," he said softly after a moment. "It's him. Judas. I love him, Father. You know that. I know that he cares about me at least as much. I want to be with him. If only I had even another year to have him with me! That's all I want! But... I know you can't give that to me. I know my destiny, even if I don't like it.
"But what about him, God? He doesn't deserve this. He is only trying to save everyone. He is too smart for his own good. You know that. And you can't blame him for finding this all hard to believe. Even I have my doubts sometimes. But by causing him to betray me, you have murdered him. As surely as a knife stabbed into his heart, this will kill him. Please, God, he doesn't understand. Do not damn him for events beyond his control."
Jesus paused again, not certain if his prayer was finished. He separated his hands and leaned back against the trunk of a nearby tree. But though his formal address to God was complete, he didn't feel as though he had said everything he wanted.
"I do love him," he whispered, not sure whether he was still praying or only talking to himself. "I love him more than anyone else in the world. Why does it have to end like this? Why does he have to be the one? He has done nothing to deserve this."
Jesus felt a tear slip silently down his cheek. He made no move to brush it off.
"Please, God. I just wanted to be with him. I'll die if you want me to but please, give me something. Anything. I don't want to just leave him like this. I care about him too much." He sniffed, standing in preparation to head back to his apostles.
But when he turned, he stopped dead still. There he was. Judas. Waiting for him.
He stared almost unbelievingly at the specter of his friend. Had Judas come back? Had God been listening and given him a reprieve? Hope fluttered wildly in his chest for a moment.
And then a glint from the trees caught his eye. It was moonlight flashing off of the slight movement of an armored body. No, then. Judas was here to fulfill his destiny. This was the Betrayal.
For a long moment neither moved. Judas simply stared at Jesus, a strange indefinable sadness in his eyes. Then, unexpectedly, he moved forward, pressing his lips lightly against Jesus's.
Jesus froze for a moment, taken by surprise. But he did not waste the moment. Before Judas could pull away, Jesus kissed him back lightly. Just enough to show him that he knew, he understood.
They broke away, and Judas refused to look at him. He seemed to Jesus like a young boy waiting to be punished for what he had done.
"Judas," he said, "must you betray me with a kiss?" But he was smiling. He knew that God had answered his prayer. It was not much, but he would take it nonetheless.
Judas looked at him, and seemed suddenly unsure if his shame was justified. Slowly, inexorably, they moved towards each other, until finally Judas collapsed into Jesus's arms.
For one perfect, golden moment, Jesus held Judas in his arms. And he closed his eyes and thanked God for giving him this much. Just a moment, a second, that was this perfect.
And then he felt rough hands on his shoulders, wrenching them forcefully apart. It was time. And he knew now that he could face his destiny without regrets.
or
Oh God, that was hideous. Let me complain to the author.