Title: Screams
Set: Aftermath of the crucifixion. Ten thousand years later.
Pairings: None… Judas/Jesus if you really squint.
Ratings: G. Though it contains Hell.
Judas screamed.
But, this was Hell, and he had learned long ago that no-one would even notice.
The white-hot layer of pain that was his skin grew worse with every passing moment. He had not slept. He had not eaten or drank. He had not even breathed since life. Exhaustion, starvation and suffocation ate away at him inside. Nothing was left of Judas but agony. Helpless, hopeless agony.
Yet, the worst torture was nothing hellish, nothing physical. The inexorable fading of his memories was what shattered his already broken heart.
His memories of life were dim and vague and Judas wept pathetically when he could no longer see Jesus. Reminisces of his beloved Lord were the memories Judas held sacred, held tight through the darkness. But these, too, dimmed and blurred with time until he could no longer remember his Lord's face.
Judas cried out in pain. Cried out the only two words he had allowed himself to speak since he'd entered Hell.
"Please, Lord!"
He didn't know what he was asking for… for forgiveness he didn't deserve? For mercy he wouldn't get? For release that would never come? Or, just for the pain to stop, only for a second?
For so long he had refused to speak. Refused to cry out. But the pain was so much worse, now. And when he couldn't bear it any more, he begged for his dear Lord.
And as another lash tore open his back, Judas screamed.
Jesus laughed.
Finally free. Free from life, from pain, from confusion. He was where he ought to be now. He was home, and it was pure bliss. He understood, now, why He had had to die, and understood that the pain was over. His disciples were with him, even Peter. His days were easy and beautiful, as they were for everyone.
The disciples went their own ways only at night. Many had wives or girlfriends from life, and others merely enjoyed the privacy. At night, in the darkness of Heaven He was alone again. It was a peaceful, gentle calm, with none to bother Him, or wake Him unduly.
And Jesus told Himself that He enjoyed that peace, that calm, and it was true. But, He knew what was to come. The same awful sound that broke the silence every night and made Jesus so afraid. He had not been so frightened since life, and he couldn't understand how the sounds that tore through the night were silent to everyone else.
So Jesus was always the last to leave the disciples. He put off sleep as long as possible, for he knew what he would hear.
And when finally he slept, he was haunted again by the desperate screams.
Want more? This has the potential in my brain to become a full fic, maybe eight or nine chapters, however I kind of like it as it is. So, I will need much encouragement to write the rest. If I finish it, it'll be full slash, though. (no, no sex. you know me better than that) And highly blasphemous, I've no doubt.