Title: Betrayed With A Kiss
Rating: PG
Spoilers: New Testament
Fandom: The Bible
Notes: Judas Iscariot/Jesus Christ slash (from Judas' P.O.V.). For Mercury32.

A.N. This is... something of an experiment if you will. Mostly I just want to see the reaction, whether it be good or bad. It'll be interesting no doubt. Be assured; I mean no disrespect by this, no I am not personally religious but I know that others are and I ask you if you think this will offend you, please simply don't read it. Constructive crit is welcomed, flames will be collected and used to keep me warm in the winter. If you like this, please check out the companion piece by Mercury32, 'Day of Judgment'.

And let the flaming commence...

Betrayed With A Kiss

I wait, outside the massive doors. Two angels flank me, expressions impassive. They won't touch me I know. Bad enough they have to escort the one who betrayed the son of God, never mind touching it. That's what I am to them. Not a person. Not a man. It. The Betrayer.
The room in which we stand is grey. I've always assumed Heaven would be white or perhaps golden. It probably is, outside, but in here all is dismal and dark. No windows, only a single torch burning in a wall sconce beside the doors, which are made of some dark reddish wood. The thought crosses my mind that this may be Hell, but the soft radiance of the angels reassures me on that count. No angelic being would soil themselves in the depths of such damned regions.
Unless of course, it was to see me burn.
My gloomy thoughts are interrupted by a creak from the doors which open as if by some unheard command. No blinding light shines through, but no fire erupts to swallow me either. Taking mute encouragement from the latter, I follow my angelic guardians into what looks suspiciously like a court room.
I walk through ranks of silent angels, following the straight path up towards the front of the large room. There are no torches here. The light from the army of angels would be enough to illuminate a whole palace. Thousands of eyes watch me with barely masked hostility.
And I thought angels were incapable of hate.
I search the room for him, meeting pair after pair of angry eyes but never the ones I want; never the ones I had always taken comfort from before. Either he isn't here or he is lost in the crowd. My heart aches to see him again. We emerge from the rows of angels. One angel, larger than the others, is seated behind a tall desk in front of me, a dozen or so more on two benches to my left. They would be the jury, I assume, and this larger angel the judge. I took a moment to admire his truly impressive wings. I had once asked Jesus if he would have wings in Heaven. He had laughed and replied in the soft voice reserved for me alone.

"Only if you want me to."

I look down at the floor, cold grey stone beneath my bare feet. Suddenly the wings seemed more of a cruel reminder of times past than something to be admired.
"Judas Iscariot." The voice of the judge is almost painful to hear, vibrating through my ears. I might have flinched back if the angel guards had not been standing menacingly behind me.
"You are charged with High Treason against the Son of the Almighty God, valuing money above loyalty and betraying your faith. How do you plead?"
What am I supposed to say? Lying was never an option. I have to bite back a bitter smile at the thought of lying in the presence of God's highest angels. Besides, I knew what I had done, even if I had had my reasons. There was nothing else to do."
"Guilty on all counts." My voice seems small in comparison to the divine tones of the angel's. Whereas his echoed around the room, mine is almost a whisper. He nods in grim satisfaction.
"Then I hereby sentence you-"
"Wait."
My heart leaps in my chest, even as my ears tell me it is not the voice I want to hear most. An angel in the jury rises to his feet and bows politely to the judge.
"We of the jury wish to know if the accused has anything to say before he is sentenced."
My heart plummets again. I have no desire to unburden my soul to these harsh, unforgiving creatures. At best I would simply land myself in more trouble, at worst I would land him in trouble too and that is the last thing I want. All the angels are now watching me expectantly and I stammer a response.
"I- I thank you for the offer, but no. I do not wish to say anything."
"On what grounds?" the angel in the jury asks before the judge can speak. Aware my mouth is hanging open like a fish, I hastily close it while I think of some reply.
"I have caused enough trouble as it is. I do not wish to...." My tongue tries to tie itself in knots. "... implicate anyone else for my actions. It was my betrayal. I deserve any and all punishment for it."
"This is why you took your life after you knew you had been successful then?" A different angel in the jury now, looking at me with interest. I shiver under that calculating gaze. "You wish to atone for your sins?"
"I deserve no chance of atonement." Bitterness suffuses my tone before I realise, self-disgust dripping from every word. "For what I did there can be no chance of salvation."
Without meaning too, I seem to have said something to catch their attention. Every angelic being in the room is breathless with anticipation, I can feel it. With a tiny flicker of excitement I remember the thrill of holding an audience, the tales I used to tell the other disciples before they turned against me. That tiny flicker dies in an instant, doused with the cold knowledge of my own certain damnation. I'm not even going to try and save myself. Not only is it pointless, it's not what I want. I want to burn for what I did.
I just wish I could see him one last time.
There appears to be some sort of whispered conference going on amongst the jury. I wait, head bowed, a cold knot of fear gathering in my chest. It's difficult to breathe around it. I promised myself before I leapt from the tree, rope around my neck, that I would not cry. I had promised the same to him, long ago as he wiped a tear from my cheek. I will not cry. The tears press against my eyelids and I wish I could rub them away, but my hands are tied.
The jury reach a decision, the first speaker standing again to face the court. "We are decided. We wish to hear the guilty party's account of events, beginning from whichever point he sees fit."
Icy fear paralyses me. I will not betray him a second time. I never vocally promised him to keep us a secret but the promise was there all the same; in the tacit thanks in dark eyes when I made excuses for our absence to the others or in the warning tone of his words when we got too close in public. We had never intended anyone to find out and when they did it had almost ruined everything. I would not do that a second time.
"Apologies," I whisper around the lump in my throat. "But I cannot. I... I can't tell you truthfully all that happened."
"Why not?" The judge sounded surprised, faintly petulant like a child deprived of a treat. "You would deny the divine court of God himself?!"
Oh if John and Peter were here to see this. An image of their outraged expressions enters my mind and I have to swallow a foolish grin along with the threatening tears. Not even in their wildest dreams could they have seen me standing here, denying the angels of God. "Yes. I'm sorry. It is not all my story to tell."
I shouldn't have said that. I can almost feel their fascination with me increase. The jury whispers amongst itself for a moment.
"I'm sorry, but we really must insist," the first jury angel said gently. "Our lord God is omnipresent. You need not worry about revealing the secrets of others. We give you permission to do so, since the Almighty already knows."
In desperation I search the crowd one more time for the familiar face. I want him to come towards me, arms outstretched as he had done so many times before. There was nothing, no one, only curious angel eyes staring back at me, waiting, accusing, wanting to hear me condemned by my own mouth. I swallow, hard.
"As you wish." A brief pause to organise my thoughts. "What would you like to hear?"
"Everything," the judge instructs, his voice even softer now. I swallow again and decide to give them what they've asked for. At this point I have nothing more to lose.
"Very well. It began about two years ago, just outside Kerioth, my home city...

I was a goatherd then, tending my father's flocks on the slopes outside the city. We were prosperous and happy; my mother was expecting her third child and my father was building us a large house to the east of the city walls. Had you offered me the riches of the world or a thousand skilled concubines in exchange for my way of life, I would not have accepted. I was content with my lot.
It was a night in mid-summer that I first met him. A wolf had been worrying our sheep the last few nights and I was sitting up to watch them. I was alone in the night with only my small fire for light. All was still and even the insects and night animals seemed muted."
I hesitate. It seems odd to mention such mundane facts to an army of angels but a quick scan of the room reveals interest on every face. Reassured I take a deep breath and continue.
"When he first stepped out of the darkness I thought he was the wolf. My hand went to my sling but no further. His eyes..." I fall silent a moment, mute with remembered awe. "He had eyes like nothing I had ever seen. They spoke to me, in no words I could voice but I recognised it, like an old friend. No matter where I go, what I do... I'll remember those eyes.
The rest of him was unremarkable, a traveller's clothes, wooden staff in one hand, bare feet covered in dust. He had a pleasant face but so do many thieves and had anyone else appeared at my fire that night I would not have been so ready to welcome them. Yet something about him, apart from his eyes and reassurances, made me want him to stay. I offered him my blanket, the best food I had, my own sandals for his feet. Had he asked for my soul I would have given it freely." A smile creeps across my face as I once again taste the summer night, the wood smoke and the fresh grass. "Perhaps I did."
All around me the angels are silent, not the tiniest ruffle of feathers, nor the slightest shifting of feet. They had remained in Heaven while their lord experienced things they could hardly imagine. Through me they vicariously lived his experiences, life as a mortal. It gave me a thrill of confidence to know with a casual comment I could at any moment throw them into uproar.
"He sat when I asked, ate what I offered, said little excepting please and thank you. I basked in his presence like a snake basks in the sun. The slightest smile had me falling at his feet; a small nod was worth more than a thousand words of praise from another. Had you asked me why I adored him so... and many did ask over the years – I could not have given voice to my feelings.
He left just before dawn, asking me to say my goodbyes and meet him and some friends by the redbud tree on the west hill at noon. I could hardly wait to leave. My family was confused and tried to argue but my enthusiasm seemed to overwhelm them. I escaped with hardly a word spoken in anger and ran to meet my lord as fast as my feet could carry me. He was there, amongst his disciples." My words slow as I deliberate before speaking, examining my feelings before parading them in front of this divine court. "At first I was... reluctant to meet them. It was clear from their looks, their mannerisms, that they were Galileans and I was a foreigner to them. Yet he seemed to make all such things matter little." I smile again but with a hint of bitterness. "I befriended some of them, in time."

There is a flurry of whispers amongst the jury and for a moment I think I have said something to offend them. However none of them appear angry, merely engaged in discussion and it is not long before one of them, taller and more regal than the rest, stands and meets my gaze directly.
"We already know the details of your Call Judas Iscariot. We would hear of your friendship to our lord, how did you speak to him, work with him and so on. Any relevant details you can provide will be appreciated."
Stung, I grit my teeth on a sarcastic reply. I am swiftly tiring of these condescending angels and their demands. Having resigned myself to telling the whole story, being forced to choose pieces is irritating to say the least. Every touch, every look, every smile from my lord was important. Quelling my irritation takes a moment and I am aware of the angels waiting impatiently.
"Very well," I answer at last. "The next relevant encounter I remember took place a few months after I joined the close group of my lord's disciples. We had just left a village after my lord healed a sick child and the villager's thanks still rang in all our hearts. We were camped for the night by a stream and were discussing the triumphs and joy of the last few days. During the height of our merriment I noticed my lord was missing and, in need of some fresh air myself, I went in search of him to make sure all was well."
I take a moment now to catch my breath. The memory of this encounter is enough to bring tears to my eyes, wonderful memory mixing with more recent pain. My divine audience are silent, silver eyes watching every breath as I gather myself to continue.
"I found him under the hanging branches of a tree some way from our camp. He leaned against the trunk as if deep in thought or prayer but the moonlight shone on his tears as they fell."
A ripple runs through the listening angels. I ignore it.
"I asked him what was wrong, if he was hurt or ill though that seemed a foolish question to ask the Son of God." A pause, then softer. "Or at least it seemed foolish at the time anyway.
He assured me he was fine, evaded my questions but I pressed the matter, alarmed for his well-being. At last, in exasperation, he retorted he was not a sheep of my flock and I need not protect him from any wolf that attacked." The memory makes me smile, genuine amusement briefly lightening my spirits. It was the first time I had seen him irritated and the first time I believed he was truly human as well as divine.
"I answered him...." The memory of my incensed reply brings an edge of bitterness to my amusement. "I answered that I would fight any wolf tooth and claw to my lord from harm. For the first time in our acquaintance he seemed surprised, touching my cheek with wonder in those eyes. "Are you the one?" he asked me softly and failing to understand I assured him I was the one for whatever he would have me do. I boldly claimed I would travel to the depths of Hell and beyond to bring him a single hair from Satan's beard if that was his desire." My own audacity amuses me as much as the stunned disbelief of my audience. The distrust in every eye however is not the reason I don't mention what else my lord said to me that night. I have no wish to guile this court into relieving me of my guilt, and besides, those words had been for my soul alone.

"I hope you will forgive me then my friend for all I will ask of you now and in future."

I have no need to repeat those words to these accusing angels and no reason to think they would be believed if I do. Instead I tell them something else I have never told anyone before though not without feeling a dizzy rush of fear.
"And then he kissed me."
Silence. Utter, uncomprehending silence. I bite back my panic at the unexpected reaction. Finally the judge asks cautiously.
"You mean kissed you as the son of God would kiss a treasured disciple?"
"No," I reply, my heart beating fast in my chest at the mere memory of it or perhaps with the knowledge of the retribution my next words could bring. "As a man would kiss his lover."
Instant uproar, and relief washes over me at finally eliciting a familiar reaction. A thousand angel voices rise up in furious protest and it brings back memories of different voices from a time long past. It brings a tiny smile to my face. Angels. Not so different from humans after all.
"He lies!" The shout comes from close by. I turn to find the speaker but am surprised when the regal angel in the jury leaps to my defence.
"He stands in the divine court of the Almighty! He cannot lie to us." His voice drops and he regards me with something approaching awe. "We must listen to what he has to say."
"Michael-" The judge tries to intervene but the angel I now know to be Michael cuts him off.
"We must listen to what he has to say." This time the words have an ominous note and the judge falls silent, though the look he casts in my direction is one of loathing.
A little stunned by this unexpected defender, I hesitate, lost for words. As if sensing I need encouragement the angel Michael speaks again, over the hisses of disbelief and anger from the crowd. "We have asked to hear the defendant's story as best he sees fit. The next angel to speak will be expelled from this court." Once again his gaze meets mine and I am struck by the divine radiance, so similar to that in those remembered, darker eyes. "You may continue Judas Iscariot."
I swallow. My deliberate shock tactic suddenly seems a cheap trick and not at all funny as I struggle for the words to follow it. Eventually I find my voice.
"He kissed me," I repeat the words almost as if to assure myself they are true. Sense memory of warm hands ghosting over my skin; of warm lips touching mine, calm my fluttering nerves. "My reaction was initially not dissimilar to you own, to pull away, to protest. I was a mere man. I did not deserve such an honour." I pause but the expected murmur of divine agreement does not come. Once again their attention hangs on my every word. "He gave me reassurance, told me what I needed to hear and I was not all that reluctant to begin with. As we returned to the camp his hand twined through mine and never left as we sat beside the fire."
Uncertainly has me hesitating now, as I seem to have stalled in my story.
"Go on," Michael urges gently.
I shake my head, not a refusal but a gesture of confusion. "I cannot. You told me not to tell you insignificant details but I am unsure of what is important. To me every touch, every glance but to you..." I glance over at the jury. "What else do you wish to hear?"
In the time it takes for the jury to discuss their answer I review my life, my work and my death for the salient moments and find each second spent with my lord as important as the last. I can find no encounter to pick out, no moment that stands far above the rest. To me they would all be worth relating if they were not something to be shared by my master and I alone.
As the jury reach a conclusion one of them stands, not Michael but a smaller, lesser angel (though to call any angel "lesser" is ludicrous). He flexes his wings nervously, brushing spider-silk hair from his eyes.
"We- that is I," he corrects himself hastily. "Wish to know if the relationship you infer took place between you and- you-" He cannot pair us together as if vocalising it makes it real. I – somewhat spitefully I admit – say it for him.
"Between myself and Jesus Christ, the Son of God?"
He flinches as if struck and Michael gives me a stern look. Refusing to be ashamed of my retaliation I look resentfully away.
"If- if that relationship lasted until the time of Passover and our lord's glorious Resurrection." His voice swells on the last words and for a moment I hate them all. These angels, sitting here safe and pristine in their Heaven. They only see the magnificence of his Fall and subsequent rise to further glory. They do not see the blood, the suffering, nails through flesh, vein and bone. Only the glory.
There was a high price paid for that glory.
"To answer your question I shall tell you one more thing," I answer roughly when I have my temper under control. "Through everything, through the discovery of our relationship by John and the others, through every triumph and every downfall, every miracle and every sin, I loved him. On the night of our last supper together I begged him not to ask it of me. I begged with my voice, with my body, with my soul and for a while I thought I had succeeded but his fate was not to be decided by my weakness. When he told me, when he said "that which thou dost, do quickly" and not a one among the others seated at that table understood I knew what he meant and I did it. I left and I betrayed him on his own wish, not mine and I knew full well what I did. When I kissed him the final time and he spoke his final words, I knew what I did.

"Judas, dost thou betray the Son of man with a kiss?"

Tears fall from my eyes but I don't feel them, don't notice their hot burn against my skin. "I betrayed him with a kiss no less and I was paid for my betrayal in silver and guilt and the loss of half of my soul. A kiss to betray my lover and as he hung dying so did I. There was nothing left for me to accomplish, I had no reason to stay in the world. My death was born of selfishness, from a wish to escape the world now bereft of love. Having fulfilled my destiny I was hated by all, a fact that mattered little to me but to them was everything. I would not suffer a death by stones or poison at the hands of incompetent fools who saw only the sin in my love and obedience. You asked did our relationship last and it did, to the moment when my lips touched his in the Garden of Gethsemane and he knew my betrayal, but my love, it lasted till the end and beyond that through death itself. I love him now as I always did and always will."
The ensuing silence could last a moment or a lifetime but for me it is a glorious relief. I have spoken my piece and now my fate is in the hands of God.
"Thank you Judas Iscariot," the angel Michael eventually says softly. "We will consider what you have said and your admissions of guilt and love. We ask you to wait for your sentencing."
I bow my head in acquiescence and turn to follow my two guards from the court room. The echoes of my final words ring through the air around me, not proud for pride is a sin, and not angry, not anymore but filled with truth, with belief, with love. I finally found the words to have my say and have spoken my belief. No matter what my fate and punishment, no matter what happens to my soul from now on, forever will it be written in the annals of the divine kingdom that Judas Iscariot loved Jesus Christ, the Son of God. I wonder if my lord will ever read those words and know them to be true.
I hope He will.

Fin