Disclaimer: I guessyou all know what should be written here...
Author's note: this is the last chapter, or Jesus Christ Superstar, or the Thirteenth Apostle. Choose a title for yourself.
"No way!" Peter looked at the furious Thaddaeus.
"I just ask you to help, Thaddaeus."
"I think Taddy's right," young James interrupted. "We shouldn't do it."
"Jesus asked us to."
"But how do you know Jesus said that?" Andrew wanted to know. "I mean, maybe he said… eeeer… 'Feed him to the hounds'. I think I prefer that."
"You just hate him 'cause Ruth fell in love with him!" John snapped.
That was the sign for all of them to start shouting and yelling. Peter saw Mary sitting along the way, not listening. He sighed. Everybody had clearly seen that Jesus mouthed 'bury him, please' but the most of them even didn't want to touch the body. It had cost him a lot of threatening and flattering to get them moving the body so the soldiers wouldn't get it. But bury Judas too seemed to be too much for them.
"Is there a Simon Peter here?" They all turned around. A soldier stood stiffly before them. Peter immediately recognised him. The only one who had tried to protect Jesus.
Peter could feel everyone around him strain. They were of course afraid he had come to arrest him too. "I am Simon Peter."
"I have a message from the one they call the Christ." The man searched in his pockets and took out a parchment, on which in Jesus'handwriting stood: Simon Peter. "Here." He handed it over. "He's condemned. He'll be crucified tomorrow. I-I'd like to offer him my grave. I just had spared enough money to buy one for me, but I'd like to give it to him. Could you place him in it?" Peter nodded. If Jesus trusted this man, he would too. "Good." The man turned around.
"Wait!" Peter called. The man turned again. "What's your name?"
"Joseph. Joseph of Arimathea."
Peter nodded. "Thank you." The man hesitated for a moment and then shook the hand Peter put out.
"What does he say, Peter?"
Everybody gathered around Peter, in vain trying to read the letter Peter held firmly in his hand. He decided to read it aloud and looked down at the clumsy, childlike letters Jesus had tried so hardto write down, the letters Judas had taught him.
"Dear all,
Do not worry about me. Like the man who has given you this letter may probably have told you, I'll be executed tomorrow. I hope you have done like I asked you and buried Judas. Take care of each other and tell the people about me and my ideas. We believe them to be right, and people should be free to say what they think is right, even if others don't think so.
The man who brought you this calls Joseph of Arimathea, and he has offered me the grave he had meant to keep for his own use. Please thank him for that.
About Judas, please believe him to be my friend, whatever has happened. He cared more for me than some of you.
Your friend,
Jesus of Nazareth
P.S. Peter, could you take care of Mary?"
When Peter had finished the letter, there fell a silence. Mary stared at the letter and her under lip trembled visibly. Peter looked around and sighed. "Who will help me bury him?"
He stood next to the body and waited. Nobody moved. Mary, looking very pale, whispered "If Jesus wishes so," and walked over to the body. Then Thomas, loyal Thomas, took a step forward and silently placed himself next to Peter. Phillip, usually so shy, stepped next to him, a challenging look on his face. Someone suddenly swore loud and colourful in the middle of the group, and then Simon stood sulkily next to Peter, who couldn't suppress a smile. Slowly everybody followed.
They buried the body modestly. Peter thought of Judas. When was the first time he had suspected that…? He couldn't remember. He saw the others sometimes looking curiously in his direction. They probably thought he knew more about it. They probably realised he would never tell them too, so they didn't ask anything.
He looked around, eying the beautiful town of Jerusalem. He wanted to get out of it. He never wanted to see the city of Jesus' death again.
Jesus had asked them to tell about him; he would. As far away as possible. He suddenly grinned. It was very Judas-like, but why wouldn't he defy the authority of the moment a bit? He could go to Rome. After all, he'd never been there.
"Every time I look at you I don't understand
Why you let the things you did get so out of hand…"
Jesus gasped for breath. Everything around him swayed and black spots kept blurring his sight.
"You'd have managed better if you had it planned
Now why would you choose such a backward time and such a strange land?"
Everywhere where people laughing and shouting at him. At least, he thought so, he couldn't hear them… A teasing voice kept singing in his ear… He had the faint impression he had heard it somewhere before…
"If you'd come today you'd have reached the whole nation
Israel in 4 BC had no mass communication…"
The sun burned hard and unmerciful on his shoulders and back, like sledgehammer blows on his naked skin. The heavy wooden cross pushed him down, tried to get him on the ground… Let it be over soon, he thought despairing, Please let it be over soon… and whose was that voice?
"Don't you get me wrong- don't you get me wrong now- don't you get me wrong…"
He saw faces appearing for his eyes and disappearing as quickly as they had come. From somewhere, far away in his mind, he got the names of his brothers and sisters…
"I only want to know- I only want to know now- I only want to know…"
Then the smell of warm milk… a warm, safe feeling… soft arms wrapped around him… a woman's face looked down on him, smiling. Mother, he thought, mother…
"Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ,
Who are you, what have you sacrificed?"
The hard, hot but pleasant smell of woodcocks… a rough hand slamming on his shoulder… a weathered, bearded, friendly face… Father…
Then his friends, his apostles… He laughed again with them, travelled with them, fought with them, felt the friendship between them, though he officially was their teacher and they his students…
"Jesus Christ Superstar,
Do you think you're what they say you are?"
Peter… Andrew… James… John…Phillip… Bartholomew… Thomas… Matthew… James… Thaddaeus… Simon…
"Tell me what you think about your friends at the top
Who do you think beside yourself the pick of the crop?"
An olive-brown face appeared for his eyes… with hair as dark as a nightly sky, for it wasn't that black, but had a strange, almost blue shine… and with eyes as dark as a room with no door or window and no way to have some light, which is much darker than any night ever can be… white teeth visible between the mocking pulled-up lips… Judas?
"Buddha, is he where it is, is he where you are?
Could Mohammed move a mountain or was that just PR?"
He realised whose voice he heard singing. He saw Judas again, or better an image of him, in better clothes he had ever worn, smiling mocking, the eyes shining like always. Judas…
"Did you mean to die like that, was that a mistake?
Or did you know your messy death would be a record breaker?"
Memories jumped on him; Judas, lying next to the fire, completely at ease and because of that almost desirable… Judas, looking friendly instead of teasing, smiling tenderly while he caressed Jesus' hair after he had had a nightmare… Judas, crying… Judas, dead, the dried up tears still visible…
"Don't you get me wrong- don't you get me wrong now- don't you get me wrong…"
Love shouldn't be a crime Judas,Jesus thought while rough hands took him up and smashed him on the cross he was wearing just a minute ago.
"I only want to know- I only want to know now- I only want to know…"
His mouth opened to scream when the nails went right through his hands, but all that came out was a soft rattling. Mary… help me, he thought, and for a second he saw her face clearly for him, the sweet smile on her lips, her caressing hands on his hair, her beautiful eyes… Mary…
"Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ,
Who are you, what have you sacrificed?
Jesus Christ Superstar,
Do you think you're what they say you are?"
The darkness came, surrounded him…
"Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ,
Who are you, what have you sacrificed?
Jesus Christ Superstar,
Do you think you're what they say you are..."
Does anyone of you likes Evita? Because I'm writing a fanfic of that too... Anyway, because this is the last chapter, I hope everybody who reads this will review. (snif) I'm sorry, I think I'm a little too sentimental. I don't like ending a story... (cries) I'm gonna take a big chocolate icecream and I'm gonna eat it all while I watch JCS once more, and I'm gonna cry whole the time!(snif- blows her nose violently)