Archive of Our Own

Thaddeus didn’t realize they were so far north until Matthew got out the map that evening. He liked to calculate how far they had walked every evening, said it was fun. Nobody else really liked reliving the day’s walk, but they did appreciate knowing where they where. So when he unfolded the map and scribbled some math in the dirt, everybody waited for the answer.

“We’re less than a day from Bethsaida.”

Thaddeus almost choked on a slice of cucumber. He covered it up by clearing his throat and throwing back a cup of water.

“Are we that close?” Little James said.

“A few hours away,” Matthew said. “You’re both from there, correct?”

Little James nodded. Thaddeus nodded too, and quickly ate another slice of cucumber.

“What’s in Bethsaida?” Simon asked.

“Well, it’s where I used to sing,” James said, and he always sounded happy when he got to talk about music. “Our choir master used to sing with the 288th Jerusalem Temple Choir, and he has a bunch of composer friends who always send him copies of the newest liturgical compositions—”

“It’s got a good choir, got it.” Simon looked at Thaddeus. “Anything else?”

“I’ve heard it’s got a good choir.”

“I’m sure it’s a lovely city,” Mary Magdalene said, when Simon rolled his eyes.

It was a city with the market sellers he used to steal from, the school he quit when he was nine, and beds he should have stayed out of. Oh, and his father. But Mary was sweet, so Thaddeus said, “The fields are nice. There’s a nice view of the sea.”

“Is it the nice sea we’ve been seeing for the last several weeks?” Nathanael could be a little shit sometimes. Philip smacked his arm. “What? I’m just pointing out…”

“You’re being mean.”

“We might not go to Bethsaida,” John said. “Jesus’ changed course before.”

That was true. They might yet be spared.

“You two should ask Him,” Mother Mary said, “when He comes back from praying.”

That was a good idea. Either He would tell them they weren’t going to Bethsaida, or He would warn them and give them enough time to prepare for the place.

Alternatively, Thaddeus would have enough time to throw himself in the river and drown before they got there.

Bad joke. That wasn’t funny.

Maybe he could get lost on the way there.

There was also, he thought as he rinsed the dishes, the possibility that Jesus wouldn’t tell them anything. He did that on occasion, and just let them hang on while things unfolded.

“Thad?”

That was a really terrifying thought; that Christ knew how much Thaddeus wanted to avoid Bethsaida and would make him go there anyway. That was a nightmare.

“Hey? Thaddeus?”

This was Jesus though, and while He might be unfathomable, He was never cruel. If Thaddeus went and talked to Him there might be an answer, or at least some comfort.

“Thaddeus! Thad.De.Us.” Nathanael snapped his fingers a few times.

“Sorry, what?” Belatedly, he realized Nathanael, Little James, and Matthew were looking at him. “Sorry.”

“Are you okay?” Little James asked. “You’ve been washing that plate for ten minutes. I just said that Jesus told me we’re going to Bethsaida.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re an awful liar,” Nathanael said.

“I’m not—”

“You are very plainly lying,” Matthew said, looking confused and concerned.

Nathanael was being Nathanael, but Matthew honestly didn’t get it. “I’m not lying,” Thaddeus said with as much patience as he could muster. “When people say they’re fine, it usually means they don’t want to talk.”

Matthew tilted his head. “What is it you don’t want to talk about?”

Little James smacked a hand on his forehead and Nathanael laughed. After a few awkward seconds Matthew said, “Oh.”

Matthew was very smart. Just not about social stuff.

“I’m just tired, Matthew.” That really was a lie. “Going to bed.”

When Little James came to the tent they shared, Thaddeus pretended to be asleep. Another lie. He didn’t like lying. Lies like, ‘it tasted good’ or ‘what an adorable baby’ were one thing. This was just dishonest.

He had a million reasons to stay out of Bethsaida.

There was one reason to go.

It was a good reason. One he really didn’t want to explain to everybody.

It was the hard reason too. There would likely be yelling. Screaming, even. Thaddeus hated yelling, he hated confrontation, and it was very, very likely he was not going to handle it well.

The thought of everyone in the group witnessing that was another nightmare.

Jesus already knew the situation. He knew everything. But if He didn’t see it, and if they never spoke about it…

That whole line of thought felt like another lie.

James mumbled something in his sleep and rolled over. Thaddeus slipped out of the blankets, threw his things in his bag, and left the tent, silently cursing his cowardice the whole time.

He was a few minutes out from the camp when he ran into Jesus. Running across the Messiah in the dark was more than a little bit shocking. “Rabbi!”

“Thaddeus.” Jesus looked at him without a trace of judgement or condemnation. “I’m impressed you got this far without running into Zee.”

The former Zealot kept watch every night until the Messiah came back from praying.

“He’s waiting for You on the other side of the camp.”

“Ah. Because I started out from there.”

“Yeah.”

“I circled around. He’ll be surprised.”

Thaddeus nodded. He couldn’t meet Jesus’ eyes.

“I’m going this way. You should come with Me.”

“I’ve got…I’ve got to…” Thaddeus pointed toward Bethsaida. “I can’t,” he finished. “I can’t go back with You.”

It was hard to tell for sure in the dark, but Jesus looked sad. “We will be in Bethsaida in a few days. I hope you will come back.”

It took a horrible kind of man to turn and walk away from the Lamb of God. Apparently, Thaddeus was that kind of man.

——

Bethsaida hadn’t changed much in the year since he’d left to follow Jesus. The Romans still checked everybody coming in for weapons, the market vendors still thought they were selling gold instead of day old bread and set their prices accordingly, even the road was still torn up in the same spots.

Actually, no. There were more holes in the road now. The latrines still looked okay though. Bethsaida did not have much, but it had good public facilities.

Thaddeus cut through the market without looking to see if he knew anyone there. The city was small enough that he probably did know someone, but large enough that he could avoid them.

He knew every back alley and short cut and didn’t take any of them. It still didn’t take him long to reach the smithing district. When people worked with forges and fire, it made sense to spread their houses out and keep them a little away from others.

The smithing district wasn’t large, and it hadn’t changed at all since the last time he’d come this way. He made his way to a house that looked like any other and stopped before the door.

Every muscle hurt from being clenched. He would have prayed, but he had walked away from Jesus only a few hours ago, so he figured God probably didn’t want to hear from him. Instead he took a few deep breaths and knocked on the door.

Nobody answered.

He knocked again, harder this time. Still no answer.

Still trying to relax, he walked around the back. A methodical, ringing filled the air. The sound of iron being struck would have been melodic, but it was too manic. The blows came too fast together.

That was not a good sign.

Taking one last deep breath, Thaddeus stepped into view of the forge and knocked on the wall so the smith realized someone was there.

The ringing paused mid-strike. The smith looked at him, irritation smoothing into belated recognition. Not surprising. They hadn’t seen each other in the last seven years.

“Thaddeus?” The smith dropped his hammer.

“Dad. Hey.”

——

Clopas was having a good day. He greeted his only child with a warm embrace, ushered him into the house, broke out the bread, and sat him down at the table to catch up on the last seven years.

Thaddeus tried to talk several times. Whenever he did manage to get a word in, his father ignored him and kept talking.

Business was booming. He had contracts with everyone and he worked day and night to fill them.

He was very good at what he did. People recognized that.

No, he didn’t talk to Joab anymore. Why? Because Joab sold information.

“Who does he sell information to?” Thaddeus immediately regretted asking. There was no logical answer, and the answers that would come would only make his head hurt.

“The Romans.” It wasn’t worth pointing out that there was nothing about Clopas the Romans could possibly be interested in. He had fixated on the Romans and no amount of logic was going to turn him from that line of thought. “They want us to worship their idols. They send false prophets to lead us astray. But not me.” Clopas tapped his head and flashed a smug smile. “I’m too smart.”

Religion was such a tricky subject. Thaddeus wasn’t sure he could handle that conversation right now. “You’re doing well then. That’s good.”

“Why are you here?” Clopas asked.

It was an abrupt change of subject and Thaddeus was a little taken aback, both by the question and the energy behind it. He had forgotten how much energy his father had. “I was in town. I thought I’d stop by and see you.”

Thaddeus wasn’t a great liar and Clopas was not a stupid man. “You only come see me when you want something. Only when I can provide you with something.”

Not stupid, but really unfair. Getting mad was pointless, but Thaddeus couldn’t stop himself. “When did I ask you for anything?”

Clopas scowled and leaned back. “Well. You stopped by. You saw me. Anything else?”

There was no way to win. Not with logic anyway. “You’re right, I did want to ask for something.”

“I knew it. I knew it. People only come to me when they want something. They only want what I can give. I give, and I give, and I have nothing. Left. To. Give.” For a man with nothing left, Clopas was awfully excited. He leaned forward until his face was too close to Thaddeus’. “What do you want?”

“I’m here for a job. I need a place to stay.” That was technically true. It was unpaid, but still. It was a job.

“Why aren’t you staying with Micah?”

“Micah’s been dead for four years.” And even if he had been alive, Thaddeus couldn’t go back to his old master’s house. He had broken his father’s heart when he apprenticed to a stone mason and left home. He had broken the stone mason’s heart by being a stupid, angry eighteen year old.

“Is he? How sad.” Clopas wasn’t sad at all, and was so dismissively cruel Thaddeus almost bit his tongue off.

“Can I stay?”

“I guess.” Clopas stood up, stretched, and gestured to the house, which had not been cleaned since the last time Thaddeus visited. “Make yourself at home.”

——

Cleaning took a while. The lack of sleep was catching up to him, and the ringing of the anvil striking iron gave him a headache. Heat from the forge flooded the house and it was already close to summer time. The smell was bad too. His father never threw out food, no matter how rotten and moldy it got.

Hopefully the neighbors wouldn’t notice the month old cucumber by their house.

When the heat and headache tipped over into nausea, Thaddeus hoisted the stone jars on his shoulders and made for the well. By the time he returned it was past midday and he was exhausted.

Clopas wouldn’t stop work to eat. He knew that from experience. But he would curse his son for not making sure he ate. Thaddeus knew that from experience too.

“Dad?”

“What?”

“Do you want to eat?”

“No. Come hold the tongs for me.”

“I’d rather not.” Holding the tongs for a lunatic swinging a hammer was, quite obviously, dangerous.

“Why the hell not?”

“I went to the well and got fresh water. My arms are sore.”

His father threw down the hammer. “You got fresh water and you didn’t think to offer me any? Worthless.” He brushed past Thaddeus and stormed into the house.

Thaddeus had bad memories associated with touching his father’s tools, so he just left them where they were and stepped outside to the street. It was still hot, but if he stared at the sun long enough he could convince himself he wasn’t tired.

When he went back inside, the water from one of the jars had been spilled all over the floor. Sighing, he found a rag and began mopping up.

“It was poison,” Clopas said from his bedroom. “That well is poisoned.”

“Good thing there’s a healer coming to town soon. You can meet Him, and ask Him to drive the poison out.”

“A healer?”

“Uh-huh.”

Clopas chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Healers don’t know anything.” He drew the curtain that separated the bedroom from the rest of the house and let it hang. It might as well have been a stone wall. He stayed there for a few hours, and Thaddeus knew better than to bother him. Only when the sun went down did Clopas emerge and return to his forge.

When Thaddeus was a kid he woke up one night to see his father standing in the doorway holding his hammer like he expected to hit someone. He made sure to sleep away from the doorway and with his back to the wall ever since. That night he curled up in a corner and tried, with precious little success, to sleep.

——

Breakfast was old bread. It was the only food in the house.

“When does your job start?” Clopas asked.

“Um…” Damn it, damn it, damn it. “Soon.”

“Well, I guess you’ll be hanging around the house until then, huh?”

“I was going to see some friends.” Clopas had never met his friends and it was going to stay that way.

“Friends.” There was a lot of sneer packed into that word. “How nice. You enjoy your friends. Some of us have to work.”

Unable to stand the ringing from the forge, the heat, or the hostility, Thaddeus left. The day wasn’t burning up yet; he could have gotten fresh water. But that would have meant another trip to the well and back, and his arms hurt just thinking about that. Besides, he was angry enough to feel petty; stale water wouldn’t kill either of them.

Aimlessly, he wandered through the streets, carefully not meeting anybody’s eyes. Partly by accident, and partly on purpose, he found himself in front of a small house. It was neat. Clean. Belonged to a dead stonemason and his wife. If places could look safe, that one looked safe.

He turned around and walked away.

——

One of the neighbors needed repairs done on their house. Thaddeus managed to work out a deal where he did some of the stuff that could be done in a week in exchange for a few coins and food. The work was simple and not quite mindless, but he still got to bring his father food.

If he thought that would make Clopas happy, he was wrong.

“You’ve been working non-stop.” Except for a few mouthfuls of bread and a few hours of sleep, Clopas had barely stepped out of his forge. “There’s food.” He held up the dish. It didn’t smell anything like Mary Magdalene’s cooking, but it didn’t smell bad.

“I don’t want to eat that.”

Inhale. Exhale. “Do you want to go out to eat? I’ve got a little money—”

“I don’t want to eat with you.”

Inhale. Exhale. It was better to give in than to fight. “Okay. Um, I’m just going to eat and I’ll leave the leftovers on the table.”

“Whatever.”

Speaking was a risk, a stupid, stupid risk that had no benefit, but he still had to try again. “The neighbors said that healer arrived in town.”

“So what?”

“So we should go see Him. Please.”

The only answer was a derisive snort. Clopas only left his forge a few hours before dawn. Sleep was hard to come by.

——

Thaddeus needed to stay away from that safe little house. He was facing enough trouble from his past without adding his misspent youth in the mix. Besides, he wasn’t exactly proud of how he left it.

He left his father’s house by apprenticing to a stone mason, broke the stone mason’s heart by being an ungrateful shit of a teenager, and left Jesus’ camp with nothing said. There was definitely a pattern emerging, one that was really uncomfortable to think about.

He needed to stay away. Micah was dead. There was no apologizing now.

“Thaddeus?”

He should have stayed away.

“Jude Thaddeus bar Clopas, is that you?” The woman stepped closer. She had more gray hairs, but her face was still smooth. She had aged with grace.

“Hi Datya.”

They stared at each other for a moment. Then she sighed and shifted her shopping basket. “Well, you should come in then.”

The house was much the way it had been when he left it. Clean. Comfortable. Small, and a little shabby in some places, but neatly mended. Datya never tolerated mess.

She gave him a knife, a cucumber, and instructions to make himself useful, then got busy. As oil in the pot hissed and the vegetables sizzled, she started talking.

“I haven’t seen you since Micah’s funeral.”

“I did some work on a public facility on the other side of town. Last year I met someone and left town.”

“Oh? Who is she?”

He snorted. “It’s a man. He’s…” The Messiah? The Son of Man? The Lamb of God? How to explain Christ? “He’s a rabbi. I follow Him.”

“A rabbi?” She turned around to look at him. “You follow a religious leader?”

“It’s less about religion and more about God.”

“You’ve found God.” She let out a breath. “I prayed for that. For you and Micah.”

As a kid, Thaddeus had been less than enthusiastic about God, religion, and prayer. Micah hadn’t given a damn about any of that, and made sure to never darken the door of any temple. His observance of any traditions had been cultural rather than religious. Had he still been breathing, his old master would have been very upset to learn that God actually existed and walked on Earth.

Datya had always been observant, but Thaddeus hadn’t realized their negligence upset her. She never said a word.

“If you’re following a rabbi, why do you look like such a mess?”

“I’m back in town.” He paused, unsure of how to explain himself.

“Are you staying with your father?”

“How did you know?”

She added lentils to the pot. “You used to go back to him sometimes, remember? You would come home bruised, sick, and silent as a cemetery. I used to wonder why you kept going back to that house.”

“I’m not sure why either.” If he thought about it, he could probably figure out the reason. It was just a really stupid reason. “The rabbi is a healer. I’m hoping my father will meet with Him.”

“Is Clopas sick?”

“I think he’s been sick for forever.”

She added spices to the stew, and let it simmer. “And if your rabbi heals him, what then? You’ll move on?”

A shrug. “Maybe. I’m not sure Jesus will want me anymore.”

“Why not?”

She always did have a way with questions. “I sort of…left. He wanted me to stay, but I told Him no.” Thaddeus swallowed. “I knew it was going to be rough, seeing Clopas again. I knew I wasn’t going to handle it well, and I didn’t want Him, or anybody else, to see that.”

She nodded. “No, I wouldn’t want anyone to see that either.” She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “There are some awful rabbis out there.”

“He’s not awful. If He was awful then I wouldn’t care what He thought of me. But He’s good, Datya. He takes people back when they mess up. He heals them when they’re sick. I’ve seen Him heal people. He loves them. He talks to them. He loves His students too. I don’t why, we act like we’re twelve years old sometimes, but He loves us. He taught me how to pray.”

“He sounds like a good man.”

“He’s the Messiah, Datya. The Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.”

“The Messiah,” she repeated.

“Yeah.”

She nodded, plainly thinking he was out of his mind. Which…was fair. John and Matthew were the ones who were good with words. Thaddeus was a stone mason who, until about a year ago, barely knew how to pray. He wasn’t anybody’s first choice to go around announcing the Messiah’s arrival. “Well, if He loves his students that much, and He takes people back when they mess up, then I would think He would take you back if you went back to Him.” She stood up. “Let’s eat.”

Thaddeus hadn’t realized how much he missed Datya’s cooking. He also hadn’t realized how much he missed sharing a meal with someone. She did most of the talking, but she asked about Jesus, about where they had been, and who else was following Him.

“There are women too,” he said. “His Mother Mary is with us, you’d like her. And there’s Tamar, and Ramah. And Mary Magdalene, she’s great.”

“Oh? What makes her great?”

Lots of things. Thaddeus shrugged. “She’s a good cook.”

“Hmm.”

When dinner was over and the dishes were done, she hugged him. “You should spend the night here. Get some sleep. In the morning, you can go back to this man you think is the Messiah. Talk to Him.”

“It’s not proper.” He wasn’t a kid anymore and Micah wasn’t around.

“Don’t give me that nonsense. I’m old enough to be your mother.” She sighed. “If you don’t want to stay, then I can’t force you. But staying with that man will tear up your head. At least go back to the rabbi.”

He shook his head. “I already messed that up. But thank you. For dinner.” He swallowed. “And I’m sorry about…”

“Don’t be foolish. I forgave you years ago, and so did Micah. He was just too stubborn to say anything.” She sighed and hugged him. “At least think about going back to this man you call the Messiah.”

Wonderful advice, and since his father stayed up all night in his forge, Thaddeus had plenty of time to think about it.

——

As situations went, this one was pretty hopeless. The neighbor’s house repairs were even less complicated than anticipated, which meant Thaddeus worked himself out of a job. In addition to figuring out how to convince Clopas to meet Jesus, he had to figure out a way to support himself afterwards. He was good at masonry, but he’d left the last job to follow Jesus and been gone for a year. Possibly there were some former coworkers who would vouch for him, but he’d been quieter back then and hadn’t exactly made a lot of friends.

If they were around, Nathanael would have made some stupid quip about how it was impossible for Thaddeus to be even quieter, and Little James would have said that there was nothing wrong with being quiet.

Thaddeus spent the few coins he had on bread and eggs and took the long way to Clopas’ house. The market was buzzing with news of a healer on the outskirts of town. His father liked eggs; if he got some maybe it would put him in a good mood, and maybe, maybe he would be willing to visit Christ.

When he turned on the street towards the house and saw who was knocking on Clopas’ door, he had to clamp down on his tongue to the keep the curse inside.

Simon was there. With Little James. Oh, and for some reason they brought Mary Magdalene with them.

Thaddeus was beginning to understand how Job must’ve felt. As fast as he could, he made his way to house. He got there just after Simon knocked on the door again.

“What are you doing here?”

All three of them took a moment to be surprised to see him. Simon recovered first. “Looking for you. It’s what happens when you disappear in the middle of the night without a word to anybody. People want to know what happened and they come looking for you.” He sounded miffed, but he still scanned Thaddeus up and down, as if looking for an injury.

“Are you alright?” Mary asked, her voice soft.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Simon could handle a fight, and James would recognize lunacy when he saw it and distance himself, but Mary…she was delicate. Fragile. He didn’t want to see her hurt. “How did you even find this place?”

“You told me your father was a smith. At the wedding, remember?” Mary smiled. “We just asked around if there was a smith with a son named Thaddeus.”

Served him right for giving details about his life. He should have kept his mouth shut. “You should leave. This isn’t a good place.”

“Then you should come with us,” James said.

Thaddeus could hear footsteps from inside the house.

“I’d just as soon leave you here,” Simon said. “But Jesus wants you back, and…”

The door opened. Scowling, Clopas poked his head out and stared at each one of them in turn before looking at Thaddeus. “Are these your friends?”

Thaddeus nodded.

“Are they Romans? Or working with Romans?”

Mary was veiled. James and Simon wore tzitzit. “No.”

Clopas looked suspicious, but paranoia quickly made way for nastiness. “By all means, stay out here and give the neighbors reason to talk. I love having strange people loitering outside the house.”

“They were just leaving.”

“We were hoping Thaddeus would come with us,” James said.

Clopas shrugged. “Okay. He doesn’t need my permission.”

The dismissiveness was astounding. Nobody knew what to say to that. After a few painful moments, Clopas slammed the door shut.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come back with us?” James said. “Because you can. You absolutely can.”

“I’ve got…” Thaddeus swallowed. “I’ve got things to do.”

Simon scoffed. “You left Jesus to hang around that.”

“That is my father. He’s sick. I’m going to try to convince him to meet with Jesus.”

“And after that?” James asked.

Thaddeus shrugged. “You guys should go. Please. Mary shouldn’t be here.”

“Excuse me?” Mary said.

“You shouldn’t. You should be somewhere, I don’t know, nice. But this isn’t a good place for you.”

Mary set her jaw and stepped so close their noses almost touched. When she spoke her voice sounded like the iron Clopas hammered into shape. “You can’t say the word ‘latrine’ around me, and that’s sweet. You ask me how I’m doing, and I appreciate that. You give me my space when I came back and you didn’t fling my mistakes in my face, and I appreciate that too. But Thaddeus…what’s your full name?”

“Jude Thaddeus bar Clopas.” Thaddeus decided it was well past the time to be terrified of the woman in front of him. Best to do what she said, even if it meant telling her his full name. It was possible she was stronger than he realized.

“But Jude Thaddeus bar Clopas, I do NOT appreciate you telling me where I should and should not be. The only one who gets to tell me that is Jesus Himself.” She inhaled a few times before speaking again. “You’re in the depths right now, and I’m truly sorry. I hope things get better soon and you come back.”

She turned and stalked away, leaving three men staring after her.

“I…think you made her mad,” James said.

“I couldn’t tell. See you guys later.” There wasn’t anything more to say, so he went inside.

——

By the time they were back at the camp, Mary was close to tears. They formed from a mixture of anger and worry. Keeping her head down, she quickly sought out Mother Mary.

First they called her ‘Mary the Mother’ and now it was ‘Mother Mary.’ A small distinction, but one Mary Magdalene appreciated. She missed her own mother terribly, and it felt good to have a woman she could talk to. Someone she could trust to give good advice and lead her to Jesus, sometimes literally.

Someone who noticed she was upset the minute she entered the tent.

“Are you hurt? Did someone hurt you?” She cupped Mary Magdalene’s face.

Mary shook her head and burst into tears. Her anger and hurt spilled out in a jumble of words as she haphazardly explained what happened.

“I want to be mad at Thaddeus. But I also don’t want to be mad at him.”

“Ah, he’s having a hard time. When he’s on firmer ground, he won’t be so foolish, and you won’t want to be mad at him anymore.” Mother Mary drew her into a hug. She made soothing noises and rubbed Mary’s back.

“We tried convincing him to come back. Simon, James, and I. We tried.”

“I know. I know. Sometimes people need to realize they need to make changes on their own. You have to have faith he’ll come to his senses.” She took the younger woman’s hand and stood up. “Come with me.”

Jesus was by the river. He seemed to be meditating, or maybe just enjoying a rare moment of peace. Perhaps both. When He heard them coming, He turned around.

“Eema, Mary. I heard we are still missing our stone mason.”

Mary nodded. “I kind of want to wring his neck.” She sniffled. “I’m sorry. I know that’s not what You want.”

“It’s not, but you don’t really want to do that.” He put a hand on her head. “Be patient. With Thaddeus and with yourself. You’re both making up for lost time.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You will eventually.” He smiled. “C’mon, where would the fun be if I told you everything?”

She sniffled and smiled, just a little. “Life would be a lot less fun, but a lot less hectic if You told us everything.”

“If I told you everything, you would all be very, very stressed. Even more stressed than you are now. Besides, I have to go get Thaddeus.”

——

Tired. Thaddeus was so tired. Clopas worked with a manic energy, but nobody came by to pick up the piles of nails and horseshoes he created, and he made no effort to sort them into any kind of order.

He was beginning to suspect that the commissions his father mentioned were delusions.

The anvil stopped ringing and Thaddeus steeled himself for another fight. Jesus wouldn’t stay in Bethsaida forever; there was only so much time left to beg his father to please, please see Him.

The door to the forge banged open. “You still here?” Clopas asked, in a tone that meant he was disappointed in the fact.

“Only for a few more days.”

“Nice friends you got. Two women and a cripple.” He got an unwashed cup and dipped it in the stone jar. “Water’s stale. You couldn’t make yourself useful and get fresh water?”

It was so needlessly nasty and hateful. And untrue; Simon’s hair wasn’t that long. Thaddeus swallowed. “They went back to the camp. They travel with the healer.”

“Some healer. He hasn’t healed the cripple.”

“He can heal you.”

Clopas’ face got ugly and twisted. “I. Don’t. Need. A. Healer.”

“You do. You need to talk to Him.”

His father dug around in his clothes and produced a misshapen piece of iron. “You see this? I made this. With my own hands. I make money. People pay me. I’ve got a hundred commissions that I could be working on instead of wasting my breath on you.”

“A hundred…you’re not making any sense. What do commissions have to do with anything?”

“Who else has a hundred commissions? Sick people don’t make money. Sick people don’t work. I’ve never cheated anybody.” He was screaming now. The neighbors had to hear it. He threw the chunk of iron on the floor.

“I’m not saying you cheated anybody. I’m not saying that at all.”

“I’m a trusting soul. If someone tells me something I believe them. And I’m been lied to, spat on, ignored, sneered at, backstabbed, and slandered by people in this city. And now you’re going to sit there and tell me I’m a bastard.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I never said that. Please, Dad, just go and talk to Him. Please. For me.” Thaddeus reached for his father’s hand, desperate to make a connection, hopeful beyond reason that he could convince him to do the one thing that make things better.

Clopas was an old man, and a quick one. In the time it took to blink, he slapped Thaddeus across the face. Nails caught on skin and jewel red drops of blood dripped onto his clothes.

Father and son stared at each other. One in wide-eyed horror, the other in seething, illogical rage.

Slowly, Thaddeus stepped away. After a moment, Clopas got up and stomped back to the forge.

Hopeless. The whole situation was hopeless. Thaddeus backed up against the wall and slumped to the floor. His face was bleeding and if he didn’t clean it soon it was likely to get infected. He needed to wash. He needed to get the hell out of the house. He needed to again try convincing his father to see the Messiah. He needed to figure out what to do with the rest of his life, because there was no way the Lamb of God wanted a filthy, bleeding, hopeless mess for a student.

He needed to do a lot of things. Instead he cried. Thaddeus didn’t cry much. It never solved anything. But there was no solution here. None.

As a kid he’d thought that at one point he would figure out how to have a good relationship with his father. That at some point in adulthood things would start making sense.

Hah. No.

It was well past time for him to realize that the man whose love and approval he craved would never give it. Wasn't capable of giving it.

There was a knock at the door. Probably the neighbors come to find out if everything was okay. There was no way they hadn’t heard the screaming. He tried to catch his breath and think of something to say that would satisfy them enough that they would leave. Maybe if he didn’t answer they would go away.

Another knock. They were not going away.

Thaddeus struggled to his feet and wiped his eyes. He was too exhausted to think of a lie right then, but maybe they would figure out it was a bad time on their own. The important thing was to open the door and get rid of them before their knocking drew Clopas’ attention.

He opened the door. It was not the neighbors.

“Oh, fuck.”

“I’ve gotten a lot of responses, but that’s a new one,” Jesus said.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” When they first met on the construction site, Jesus had been pretty clear He didn’t appreciate crassness. “But…why…why are you…?”

“You’re forgiven. As for why am I here well, the shepherd goes to find the lost sheep, yes?”

‘Lost’ didn’t seem the correct word. ‘Completely and utterly in hell’ seemed more fitting.

“But…but…”

“The shepherd’s not going to leave the sheep just because the sheep is hurt.” Jesus paused. “Can I come in please?”

Of course He said please. He was powerful enough that He didn’t need to barrel in. The Messiah was gentle, even though Thaddeus didn’t deserve it.

The last time Jesus asked him something, Thaddeus told Him no. Quite obviously, that had been a very stupid decision. Nodding, Thaddeus stepped back to allow room for the Messiah to enter.

“There’s not a lot,” he said, when they were inside. “I didn’t get fresh water this morning, and um, the water we have is stale.” All the things that were going on and he was babbling about the water.

“Do you want to be healed?” Jesus asked, a little suddenly.

Thaddeus looked around the house, which was sweltering and filled with trash. It was like he hadn’t cleaned at all. “You told me I should go back to the camp with You, and I told You no.”

“Mmhmm.” Jesus nodded.

“And it’s a mess.” Thaddeus gestured to the house and then to himself. “I’m a mess. It’s hopeless.”

“I’m going to stop you there. You’re not powerful enough to create a hopeless situation. You’re powerful enough to make stupid decisions, and you ran away when you should have talked to Me, but this isn’t hopeless. The only thing you need to decide is: do you want to be healed?”

“I don’t deserve it.”

“I’m not asking if you deserve it. I’m offering it. But you have to accept it. You have to be brave and completely accept it. You can’t run away from forgiveness. It’s not about deserving anything. It’s about giving the Father and Me your heart and letting Us do the work. So. Do you want Me to heal you?”

With his tears mixing with the blood, Thaddeus nodded. “I’m sorry. I messed this up completely. I’m so sorry.”

“I forgive you.” Jesus stepped forward and drew him into a hug. In that moment all the pain, physical and otherwise, melted away. There wasn’t any stress. There wasn’t any anxiety or need to think about what had to be done. The only thing that existed was the safety that came from God Almighty.

That safety and surety leant a certain calmness to the world. It stripped away the hopelessness until there was nothing left but certainty that things would be okay. Maybe not right away, and maybe not as expected, but it would be okay.

“So let’s fix this first.” Christ drew His thumb over the scratch on Thaddeus’ face, pulling the skin back together. “Ah, that’s better?”

“Thank you.” He was still crying, but at least blood wasn’t dripping on his clothes anymore.

“Get your things. You’re not coming back here again.”

“But…” The hammer was still striking the anvil in the forge. “My father…”

“Has made it very plain that he does not want to meet Me. I don’t force Myself on people. I want them to accept Me. I want to heal them. But I respect their boundaries.” The Lamb of God looked more than a little sad. “And as my student, you have to as well. You can’t force someone to come to Me.”

All of that was true. Thaddeus nodded. “Can I say goodbye?” When Christ nodded, he went to the back door and pushed it open.

The energy was manic. It had always been manic and it had always been horrible, but there was something final about the moment. Jesus said he wasn’t coming back here. This was the last time he had to listen to the lunacy.

“Dad?”

“What?”

“I’m leaving.”

“Bye.”

“If you need to find me, I’ll be with Jesus. You can ask around about Him.” News traveled fast. Wherever Jesus went, crowds gathered and when crowds gathered, people talked.

“Have fun.”

Leaving someone who so desperately needed help, who so obviously needed to meet the Messiah, hurt. But staying wouldn’t help Clopas, and would only tear apart Thaddeus’ soul bit by bit.

Without another word, he closed the door and followed Jesus out of the house.

——

They had camped a little ways outside of the city. The setting sun lit up the fields and the sea, making everything shine like gold. The view was pretty. It was nice.

Thaddeus stopped when they were a little ways away from the camp. Jesus looked at him.

“I really hate confrontation.”

Jesus laughed, just a little. “Mary’s not that scary, is she?”

“She’s arguably scarier than You.”

Jesus put His arm around Thaddeus’ shoulders. “Ah, she was worried. Here’s a radical suggestion, brace yourself: you could try apologizing to her.”

There had been a lot of writing, debating, and commentary over the years about the Messiah and what He would do when He arrived. Even when he was a near-atheist Thaddeus knew the priests and pharisees had a lot of thoughts on the subject. As far as he knew though, nobody had ever brought up the possibility that the Messiah could be snarky.

It was still a good idea though. “Will that work?”

“Try and see.” Christ started walking again. They soon reached the edge of the camp. “You know what you should do now, though?”

“Lord?”

“Go to bed.” Jesus smiled. “It doesn’t take the wisdom of God to realize that you haven’t slept in days.” He gently pushed Thaddeus toward the tent he shared with James. “Go. Sleep.”

Sleep felt like a really good idea. Thaddeus stumbled to the tent. He spread out his blankets, and paused. Dark was still coming, and there were a few bits of noise, but for the most part he was hidden and there was quiet. For the first time in days he felt alone, but not lonely.

When they first met at the construction site, Jesus told him that praying could be as simple as talking to God. Poetic phrases and hymns weren’t needed, just honesty.

Thaddeus was too sleep-deprived to recite a long prayer anyway. Instead he turned his mind to God and simply said, I’m sorry. After a moment he followed it up with thank you.

Then he fell asleep.

——

Going to sleep before it was totally dark meant he woke up before it was totally dawn. Thaddeus lingered in bed for a few moments before carefully crawling out of the tent. Ten hours of sleep meant he was recovered enough to make a longer morning prayer to God.

Almost everyone else was still asleep. Even Zee hadn’t woken up for his morning run. The only other person awake was Andrew. He was mending a net, squinting in the early morning light. He smiled when he saw Thaddeus.

“It’s kind of early to be mending a net, but we’re fishing as soon as Simon rousts his lazy carcass.”

“It seems like the sort of chore that’s best to get it over with.” Thaddeus had never stepped foot on a fishing boat and had no immediate plans for that to change, but he recognized work when he saw it.

“Too true.” Andrew pulled a string and tied a knot. “You feeling better?”

‘Better’ was relative. Thaddeus felt better, but that didn’t mean he felt good. “Getting there.”

“Don’t beat yourself up too much. I don’t think Jesus wants us to do that anymore than He wants us to beat anyone else up.”

Thaddeus nodded. “I think you’re right.”

“See, that’s all I ever wanted anyone to admit: that I’m right. Do me a favor and repeat those words for Simon, okay?”

“Next time I see him.”

“Also: incoming.”

“Huh?” Seconds later someone hugged Thaddeus from behind. It was gentle, but strong; Little James was really good about making people feel wanted.

“Hey,” Thaddeus said.

“Hey.” James released him and they looked at each other for a moment. “I’m kinda mad that you left, but I’m more glad that you’re back.”

“I feel pretty much the same.”

“Glad we’re all sharing our feelings.” Nathanael snuck up on them, which was kind of impressive because the man excelled at taking up space and making noise. He wrapped one arm around Thaddeus’ shoulders and hugged him tightly. “Because I’m feeling really happy that I no longer have to pretend to care about the latest trends in choir music compositions. That’s your job. And I’m really feeling happy that you’re back, even if you only came back for the last day we’re here.”

“Sorry…”

“You weren’t that great at pretending to care about the choir music compositions,” James said.

“What can I say, I’m terrible at lying.”

“You didn’t even lie. You just grabbed Zee, said you had to piss, and left him to listen to me talk about musical arrangements and choir drama.”

“I wasn’t lying, I really did have to…”

“Joke’s on you though, because he likes hearing about choir drama. Apparently the Zealots have their own drama, and we compared stories.”

“I missed you guys,” Thaddeus said, very, very quietly.

——

It was the last day in Bethsaida, so there was plenty of work to do. Which was good; having something to do meant Thaddeus could keep busy. Work, especially the kind you did with your hands, was good. It was safe.

He expected some ribbing, if not harassment, for his absence. Simon threw a few barbs his way, but that was it. It was a little surprising; he’d expected much worse.

“Little James told everybody to leave you the fuck alone,” Nathanael said when they got a break. “Using those exact words. It was hysterical. We’ve been underestimating him.”

Thaddeus didn’t really know what to say to that. “Oh.”

They got back to herding people and organizing lines. It went on for hours and when they all finally stumbled to the campfire, he was exhausted.

There was exhausted because you worked hard, and there was exhausted because you were stuck in a bad situation with no hope of getting out. He was the first kind of exhausted. The good kind.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Mother Mary said to them. “We’ve been invited to dinner.”

“Where are we going?” he asked Tamar.

“Can’t you guess?”

Oh. Yeah. Yeah, he could.

“So…” he said when they reached Datya’s house and she came out to greet them. All of them. How was everyone going to fit inside? “This is the Messiah. His name is Jesus.”

A very awkward silence followed.

“You need to work on that announcement,” Simon said. Behind him, Big James and John nodded.

Datya stared at Jesus.

“It is good to meet you, Datya.” He smiled at her.

“Oh. Oh, Lord.” She pulled on her veil. “Oh, Lord.” She turned to Thaddeus. “I thought you had lost your mind when you told me you were following the Messiah.”

“What was I supposed to say? He’s the Messiah, I’m following Him. What else is there?”

“There’s plenty left to say!”

“There is plenty left to say,” Philip said. Beside him, Matthew nodded.

“It wasn’t the greatest introduction,” Thomas said.

Nathanael said nothing, he was too busy wheezing with laughter. Beside him, Little James rubbed his forehead.

“Perhaps we could come in?” Jesus said, sounding like He was trying not to laugh.

——

They came in and it was a bit crowded, but not too badly. Datya had spent the day cooking, so there was plenty of food. Thaddeus was right, she and Mother Mary liked each other immediately. They spent half an hour talking about recipes.

The grief and ribbing belatedly arrived, and this time Little James did nothing to stop them. Which was fair, because most of the ribbing focused on his name, and Thaddeus could handle that himself.

“Wait, your name is Jude?” Judas asked.

“No. My name is Thaddeus.”

“It’s a nickname,” Datya said.

“It’s my name.”

“I never figured out why he didn’t like it. The only time I use it is when I need to get his attention. Jude Thaddeus bar Clopas.”

Thaddeus glared.

“You look like a grumpy kitten when you give me that look. There’s a basket of almonds in the kitchen. Go get them before your face freezes like that.”

There was talking, singing (not courtesy of Little James, for some reason somebody encouraged John to sing and may God have mercy on everyone’s ears), ribbing, and more talking.

He knew and appreciated, if not loved, everybody in the house. But it was still a lot. A lot of people, a lot of noise, a lot of talking. After a few hours he needed a break.

Datya’s backyard was not as well kept as her house. She managed to keep herbs and a few vegetable plants alive, but just barely. Still. It was quiet. And almost empty.

Mary Magdalene was sitting just outside the door, smelling a mint plant that had migrated to the edge of the house. They looked at each other for a moment. As if on cue they both let out a sigh of relief at the same time.

She laughed, just a little. “This is how it was at the wedding, remember?”

“Uh-huh.” He sat next to her. “That was a lot of people there too. A lot of talking.”

“You don’t like talking?”

“Last time I tried it, I told someone where she should go and what she should do. Not my best moment.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m sorry.”

She plucked a sprig of mint and tickled his nose with it. “You’re forgiven, Jude Thaddeus bar Clopas.”

“If you’re going to forgive me, you could also forget that.”

“Hmmm, no. I’m going to remember it in case I need to get your attention.” The windows were open and there was a faint glow of candlelight. It illuminated her face and her skin golden.

“You don’t need my full name to get my attention.” He tried to say it like it was a joke, but couldn’t.

“Well—”

Andrew chose that moment to stumble out of the house. He almost tripped over them, but managed to slump down on the other side of Mary. “I am so full. That woman’s cooking rivals Salome’s.”

“Don’t tell that to the Sons of Thunder.” The last thing Thaddeus wanted was a fight with Big James.

“I won’t. But you might have to roll me back to camp.” Andrew yawned and stretched. “She’s your master’s wife, right?”

“Uh-huh. I moved in when I was nine. Moved out when I was eighteen.”

“She doesn’t seem like the type to kick you out immediately.”

Silence. Thaddeus stared at a weed.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” Mary said.

He really didn’t want to talk about it with her. It wasn’t proper to talk about in front of a woman. But he had had enough of being a coward for one week. He could at least try to be brave.

Besides, if he kept on thinking of how soft her skin looked in candlelight, then she deserved to know.

“There was a couple that used to live a few houses down. He was old, and she wasn’t. Um, she and I.” Hand gestures were not a good thing here. “We, um, had relations.”

“What, you guys were cousins?” Andrew asked.

Both Thaddeus and Mary stared. “No.”

“Oh. Oh!”

“Yeah. In Micah and Datya’s bed. I was eighteen and angry at everything. She was the same. They found us like that. There was yelling, and I left.”

At the time he’d thought it really hypocritical for a man who blatantly didn’t care about religion to get angry about an affair. As an adult he realized that Micah had been worried. Adultery was the sort of thing they stoned people for, and he hadn’t wanted to see a pair of stupid kids pelted to death with stones.

Also, having sex in someone else’s bed was a garbage thing to do.

“That story started out horrible, and then got progressively worse,” Andrew said.

“Yeah, I’m really not proud of that moment. It’s an ugly story.”

“Pretty sure everybody’s got an ugly story at this point,” Andrew said. “But I will say that nobody had you pegged for the reformed wild child. I was betting that was Philip.”

“See, I would have guessed Zee,” Mary said. “He likes heists too much.”

“He’s only partially reformed. He’s not wild, exactly, but I get the feeling he’d go feral if given the opportunity.”

“Point.” She bumped her shoulder against Thaddeus’. “But having been a dumb kid is not the end of the world. Everybody does stupid things when they’re young and angry. I did. I don’t think Jesus expects us to be perfect.”

“Thankfully,” Andrew said. “I’m going back inside. I smell more food.”

“Datya’s not letting us leave until everybody tastes everything,” Thaddeus said.

“I’m not arguing with her.” Andrew disappeared back into the house.

Mary inclined her head towards the door, silently asking if Thaddeus was up for facing people again. After a minute he nodded, and followed her back inside.

Fin.

This was the easiest and the hardest fic to write. Easiest, because a lot of the dialogue and behavior came straight from my mother, and I am intimately familiar with having a mentally ill parent. I just gender-flipped my mommy issues and boom, there was the plot. It was the hardest for the same reason.

Totally not related to that, but if you have a mental illness, please take your meds. Jesus made doctors smart so they could give us the miracle of modern medication.

It was also hard because Thad’s my favorite disciple on the show (I appreciate the good introvert representation), as well as one of my favorite saints, and I wanted to get him right.

I briefly considered having Thaddeus curse in front of Mother Mary, but I couldn’t make myself write it. The Almighty has heard everything under the sun, our mom has not.

There’s a small shrine in my bedroom that includes a crucifix, statue of the Holy Virgin, rosary, prayer card, and a saint card of the patron saint of lost causes. The picture is of a blond, white guy. And with this picture staring at me, I decided to write him as having an affair as a teenager and being kind of pathetic when it comes to his crush. That’s what I did. That’s a decision I made, yep.

Mary/Thaddeus are my OTP. I did not expect to gain an OTP when I started watching this show, but there it is and here we are.

Any and all prayers are appreciated. Not only because I’m shipping saints now, but because I’m still working with the Matthew to my Simon. I’ve been trying to be nice and gentle, but it’s very much an awkward situation.