Work Text:
Horrified guilt filled him when he saw the results of what he'd done.
Judas Iscariot stared at the broken body that had been taken down from the cross. Tears filled his eyes, trickling down his cheeks. The weight of the silver coins still felt heavy...but now on his heart, as he'd thrown them back at the soldiers after realising just how much his betrayal had cost. Jesus, the twelve...him.
And now, it was too late to do anything. It was too late to put things right.
He followed them quietly when they carried Jesus' broken body and placed it tenderly in the tomb, rolling a stone in front of the entrance. A stone...as if something that took so many men to move into place could protect their Saviour's body from desecration. As if there was anything worse that could be done to him than the most horrible, brutal, painful death the Romans could devise for a man who had done nothing wrong.
Even Pilate had known that Jesus was innocent, trying to pardon him and eventually washing his hands, knowing that Jesus had been innocent of all the crimes brought against him.
None of the Disciples...none of the eleven who remained...spoke to him or even looked at him. He stood apart, alone with his grief and misery...alone with his guilt...as he watched those who had followed Jesus grieve his loss. A few talked about the miraculous things that had happened as he'd finally died, but most of the whispers that reached his ears were fuelled by grief and loss...those that weren't talking about what he'd done and whispering things like why is Judas here? or didn't he get what he wanted? and even thirty pieces of silver was all he believed our Lord's life was worth.
Judas stood and watched silently, his heart aching, as they all finally began to leave...walking away from the tomb with tears still falling down their cheeks, clothing torn from the intensity of their mourning. Not one of them even looked at him, let alone spoke to him.
Eventually, it was just him...standing outside the tomb, lost inside his own grief and guilt; left alone, because no one would believe he hadn't meant for any of this. He'd never expected things to reach this point. He'd never thought his actions could lead to the death of the man he'd followed without a moment of hesitation.
He walked with slow steps towards the tomb, placing his hand on the stone...feeling the rough surface below his palm. He couldn't move it, no matter how much he desperately wanted to. No matter how much he wanted to reach Jesus' side...to enter the tomb and see him one last time...he couldn't do that.
Slowly, Judas sank down to his knees in front of the tomb, turning so that his back was to the stone. He sat there, looking towards the path everyone else had followed, a silent sentinel guarding his Lord's body in death when he'd betrayed him in life.
Rain fell from the sky, as if the whole world wept for Jesus' passing. Judas remained sitting, heedless of the water that ran down his hair and clothes. It was cold, but he didn't shiver. He just stared ahead of him, without even really seeing his surroundings, guilt and pain clawing at him deep inside.
Night fell, but Judas barely paid it any heed. He remained sitting as the night finally moved into day, his hair and clothing drying, but the tears still fell down his cheeks.
He didn't know how many days passed with his back resting against the stone. He only knew that they did pass when the sky grew dark as the sun left the sky...and then grew light again as the sun reappeared in the sky. No one spoke to him...and he didn't try to speak to them either. He knew what they thought of him. He knew what they called him. No one even tried to hide the word they spoke, hatred in their voices and in their eyes, when they deigned to look at him.
Traitor.
By the time dawn began to rise on the third day (he only knew it was that because he'd heard some of the followers talking about it), his body felt numb. He thought he might die...perhaps from hunger; perhaps from the cold winds that made him shiver when night fell. He thought that he'd welcome death. After all, what was there left for him now? For a man who'd sold his friend and his Lord for thirty pieces of silver?
Something shifted against his back.
The stone...the heavy stone that could never have been moved by the hands of just one mortal man...was shifting. Judas climbed to his feet and turned, taking a step back. His eyes grew wide and fearful as the stone was rolled effortlessly away from the tomb, leaving it open...leaving Jesus' body unprotected.
And then a powerful voice came from within the darkness of the tomb.
"Judas Iscariot. Follow me."
He fell to his knees. The voice hadn't shouted, but there was power and authority that made it sound as loud as a shout. His whole body trembled with disbelief...but not only that. Hope flared to life within his breast, like a naked flame unable to be extinguished.
"Lord?" he whispered, his voice faltering.
There was silence, and Judas wondered if the voice had been merely a dream...a conjuring of his tired mind, hoping against desperate hope that there was a way to make amends for what he had done and the pain and suffering he had wrought.
But the stone no longer hid the entrance from view. Judas knew he could not have moved it alone. He knew, too, that no one else had walked past him to do so. As tired as he was, he believed he still would have known if even one person had moved past him, let alone how many it would have taken to roll the stone away.
Still on his knees, Judas slowly moved into the darkness of the tomb. His body shook and trembled as tears rolled silently down his face. He didn't know what he was about to see, but it was impossible to ignore the note of command in that voice. Just like it had been impossible to ignore when he'd been called to follow Jesus in the first place.
As he moved deeper into the tomb, a light began to form. It was softer, somehow, than the light from the sun; more ethereal. And it was coming from a person.
Judas' breath caught and the tears froze on his face when he saw...him. Jesus. Not broken and bleeding, his skin pale in death, but alive...sitting on the stone where his body had been placed. Next to him lay the cloths his body had been wrapped in before being carried inside.
"Lord." That was the only word Judas could speak before his voice failed him. He bowed his head as more tears spilled down his cheeks, tears he didn't think he had left to cry any longer.
"Judas."
His whole body trembled at that one word; his name, spoken in that powerful voice. His head bowed low as he reached out and touched one of Jesus' hands, a choked sob escaping him as his fingers found the holes in Jesus' hands, where the nails had pierced skin.
"Feel me," Jesus whispered, his voice so intense, it might as well have been a shout. "I'm real. I'm here."
"I'm sorry." Judas' head bowed over the hand he held, his tears falling onto Jesus' skin. "I'm sorry...I'm so sorry...forgive me," he pleaded, unable to look up into Jesus' face, even knowing that it was whole and free of the pain he'd been responsible for. "I didn't know. I didn't know what my actions would cause. I..." His voice broke once more and the tears fell hard and fast, blinding him in their intensity.
"Shh." Jesus' hands came to rest on his bowed head, touching him like a benediction. "I know. I understand."
The gentle touch and soft words were harder to bear than any anger or harsh words would have been. Judas felt he would have preferred Jesus' anger. He'd seen it before, though never turned on him.
"My anger is not what you need."
Judas shuddered at the words. He pressed a kiss to the hand he held, shoulders shaking as his lips touched the hole where nail had pierced flesh. There was no blood...and he could tell there was no pain...but the memory of the pain Jesus had been caused, the pain he wouldn't have had to experience if Judas hadn't....
"I forgive you."
Judas' breath caught on another sob at the words. He shook his head, pulling back and letting go of Jesus' hand. "I don't..."
"I know what you're going to stay." Jesus stood, moving to stand directly in front of the still-kneeling Judas. "You don't believe you deserve forgiveness. You don't believe you deserve pardon for selling me to the Romans for thirty silver pieces."
"I didn't keep them." It was important that Jesus understand that. That he know that, as soon as Judas had realised what his actions had caused, he'd tried to take it back...that he'd tried to make things right. "I gave them back. I tried to..." More tears spilled down his cheeks as he whispered, "I tried to make them change their mind."
"I know."
"It didn't work," he confessed. "Even after I gave them back their money...I never wanted it. I don't...I regretted it, the moment I'd done it." He shook his head numbly. "But by that time, it was too late," he finished in a whisper.
"Look at me."
Judas took a deep, shuddering breath and forced himself to look up into Jesus' face. He wasn't sure what he'd expected to see there, but it wasn't the deep, abiding love in Jesus' eyes. It wasn't the care and concern. After days of hearing traitor hurled at him, this forgiving kindness was too much for him to bear.
"What happened to me was always meant to happen." Jesus moved closer to him, reaching out once more to place his hands on Judas' head. "There has long been a separation between my Father and people. A divide. For so long, people have had to sacrifice to cleanse themselves of their sins." His eyes looked into Judas', holding his gaze commandingly. "They do not need to do that any longer. You don't need to do that any longer. I am the sacrifice that has taken away sin for all who follow me."
"But...my sins..."
"Are completely and utterly forgiven. You are completely and totally forgiven, Judas Iscariot." Jesus leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Judas' forehead. "And as I called you to follow me before, I call you to follow me again now."
"Lord..." Judas hesitated, his skin burning where Jesus' lips had touched him. "I will willingly follow you...if you will still have me...but I cannot be one of the Twelve any longer," he confessed. "They hate me for betraying you, and even if you can forgive me, I don't see any of the others being able to."
"Then they have forgotten my most fundamental teaching." There was a sad note in Jesus' voice as his hand moved from Judas' head to his shoulder. "Rise."
Judas did so, without hesitation. "What would you have me do, Lord?"
Jesus looked searchingly into his eyes for a few moments before he spoke quietly. "Return to your home. Sleep and eat."
Judas flinched slightly at the command. "Lord?"
"You have remained outside my tomb for three days and three nights, without sleeping or eating." Jesus drew him in for a tight embrace. "I am here," he reiterated. "I am real. I will not be staying in this world for long, but I will still be here when you return from obeying my command. Once you have slept and eaten, I will tell you where you need to go and what you will do next."
Judas hesitated, but he was so relieved to have Jesus returned to life that he couldn't bring himself to argue or protest. He wiped the tears from his face, took a deep breath, and nodded. "Yes, Lord," he whispered. "I will return once I have obeyed your command."
"And I will be waiting for you," Jesus promised.
Giving a single nod, Judas turned and walked away, leaving the tomb once more...this time free of the torment of his guilt and pain.
The End