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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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Judas cringed as he heard the sickening squelching sound a boot connecting with skin and internal organs, but he forced himself to keep his eyes open, to watch, even though he could feel the nausea rising in his stomach. This was the penance he had set himself; he would watch what they did to Jesus, feel every pain with him. It was almost too much to bear.
Finally, after an eternity, the two guards stepped out of the cell, leaving Jesus lying in the center of the room, bleeding in several places. Judas approached the guards, trying to force down the bile rising in his throat.
"Please," he said, "let me go to him."
The guard sneered at him. "Let him come to you."
Judas was suddenly furious. He grabbed the collar of the man's uniform and slammed him back against the bars of the cell door.
"You bastard!" he yelled. "Are you blind, man?! For the love of mercy, he can hardly breathe, let alone move! Now open the damned gate!"
The soldier looked as though he was about to reply harshly, but the second guard nudged him before he could say anything.
"That's Judas," he hissed. "Annas said we were to be polite to him, 'member?"
The first guard frowned, but reluctantly unlocked the cell, letting Judas in.
"Leave us," Judas commanded, no longer looking at them. There was some muttering behind him, but eventually he heard their footsteps retreating, leaving him alone with his broken friend.
Judas knelt on the damp, dingy floor of the cell and moved Jesus's head into his lap as tenderly as he could manage. He tried to avoid touching the areas where he could see bruises or blood, or where he suspected there might be broken bones.
"Jesus," he said softly, feeling tears coming to choke him, "can you hear me?"
Jesus's eyes fluttered open, and it seemed to Judas as though it took several seconds for recognition to sink it. He heart constricted at the thought that Jesus no longer even knew him.
"Judas?" The reply was faint, wheezed from between lips that were cracked and bleeding. But the expression on his face was undoubtedly one of relief. Judas nearly cried when he saw it. How could Jesus feel relief upon seeing him? Shouldn't he feel revulsion? Hatred? Judas had betrayed him. There was no hiding that fact now.
"It's me," Judas confirmed. "Jesus, I-" he faltered, but swallowed, gathering his courage to talk to the man he had so wronged. "I'm sorry. I... I have sinned against you. Please forgive me."
Jesus made no reply, but Judas couldn't tell if it was because he had nothing to say to Judas or because he lacked the strength to speak. Judas plowed on, unsure of how he would deal with it if the cause were the former.
"I didn't mean for it to go so far, I swear! I just wanted everyone to be all right! I never thought this would happen! I didn't want you to get hurt!" He could feel the tears falling now. Small salty droplets fell unheeded from his eyes, dripping down his cheeks and into the corners of his mouth. But Judas was too far gone in his guilt to feel them. "I didn't want this," he repeated. "I... I love you, Jesus. I'm so sorry."
Jesus smiled at him, and with what Judas could tell was enormous effort, lifted an arm to place a hand on Judas's cheek. Judas covered it with his own, savoring the touch.
"I... love you too," said Jesus softly. Judas tried to pretend that he couldn't hear the slightly liquid bubbling of blood in his voice that meant that a rib had punctured his lung. Instead he clutched the hand on his cheek tighter, focusing on the words.
"I forgive you," Jesus continued, each word an obvious struggle. "You only... did what you... thought was... right. I forgive you, and so will... God."
For once, Judas did not feel the irrational surge of anger that always enveloped him when Jesus spoke of God. Instead he turned his face towards the hand, kissing the palm lightly. He knew that he had no right to ask anything more of Jesus, but he was unable to help himself.
"I would kiss you again," he said softly, questioningly, seeking permission for this, as he had not for the first damning kiss.
Jesus did not reply verbally, but inclined his head very slightly in a nod.
Slowly, gently, Judas lowered his head to meet Jesus's lips. He deepened the kiss as much as he dared without hurting Jesus, savoring what he knew would probably be the last contact he ever had with this man.
When he drew away, Judas tasted blood in his mouth and knew that it was Jesus's.
This is my blood you drink.
He closed his eyes, focusing his attention on the tears still dripping from his face. When he finally opened them again, he saw that one had fallen to Jesus's cheek, picking up the blood from a cut as it slid down his face, mimicking the tracks on Judas's own.
There was the sound of a throat clearing behind him. "Mr. Iscariot, you have been in there long enough. Please leave now."
Judas nodded absently, his eyes still on the face of the bloody, broken man in front of him. Jesus smiled at him and Judas thought he felt his heart breaking. Finally, grudgingly, he lowered Jesus once more to the floor. He stood and walked stiffly out of the cell, looking over his shoulder again once at the last second.
Then, trying not to think, he strode quickly out of the prison.
On the floor of his cell, Jesus closed his eyes and savored the memory of the kiss.
'God forgives those who repent,' he thought. A small smile graced his lips.
'I will see you in Heaven, Judas.'
or
Oh God, that was hideous. Let me complain to the author.