A Man of Sorrows and Acquainted with Grief

THE CHOSEN: Season 3, Episode 7: Ears to Hear

Then they brought to Him one who was deaf and had an impediment in his speech, and they begged Him to put His hand on him. And He took him aside from the multitude, and put His fingers in his ears, and He spat and touched his tongue. Then, looking up to heaven, He sighed, and said to him, “Ephphatha,” that is, “Be opened.” Immediately his ears were opened, and the impediment of his tongue was loosed, and he spoke plainly. Then He commanded them that they should tell no one; but the more He commanded them, the more widely they proclaimed it. And they were astonished beyond measure, saying, “He has done all things well. He makes both the deaf to hear and the mute to speak.”

She'd watched, cowed and quiet as Yeshua helped heave the body off the road. He'd bedded it carefully, strong arms, a working man's arms, wrapped around the dead until it was safely ushered into a bed of tall grass and buckwheat. She thinks of the girl in the diner, crying over her hash browns. He'd put his arms around her the same careful way. Doing too much. Is she a dead deer in a field? Is she a dead deer on a highway?

Miriam sits with her roiling stomach, backlit by the faint glow of a three-part billboard they pass by. Fat shiny letters blare in her periphery: JESUS SAVES — GIRLS! GIRLS! GIRLS! — DON'T SETTLE FOR LESS. Call Roberts & Martinez, attorneys at law.

She shouldn't have said anything but as per usual that occurs to her after she's closed her mouth again. She crowds herself against the passenger door, caresses the handle as if she contemplates a full length dive into the guard rail.

NORMAL. Strange it is—that word. One uncommon in His experience and yet not unknown. How normal is it to wish to see the ocean? How normal is it to seek out food at a fair? How normal is it to hold a girl—one so weary and heavy laden with prophecies she spoke not—as she weeps, a cry of the soul?

Yeshua swallows, grip tightening on the steering wheel with a slow exhale. It's her fingers, the ones on the doorhandle—the touch, the ache, the CLAWING OF A CAGED ANIMAL eager for escape, even if that escape is its own destruction—that scratch gently at the inside of His heart.

❝ You may see one path, but I see many. ❞ A correction, although He does not chastise her for it. It's a reasonable conclusion for someone in her situation: one path, one destination, both one and the same: pity for the lost, damned thing. Damage control for the blight of a false prophet. ❝ I, for one, think YOU'VE BEEN CONTROLLED ENOUGH, don't you? ❞

All-seeing eyes flicker toward the passenger side before they return to the road. A car, one driving far too fast to get nowhere, blows past them, headed in the opposite direction. It would be thirty-two miles before it would pass the carcass of the deer, not that the driver would ever notice, see, or acknowledge it. Tawny fur lost with the landscape of the Earth.

To say it had been a shock to be approached by Judas Iscariot some 1,400 miles and nearly a decade separated from Golgotha would have been an understatement, though far more surprising had been having the title of teacher thrust upon him. Hardly a fitting role for a demon, at least under usual circumstances. The man's situation, however, was anything but usual.

Hell had gotten wind of it all (though Crowley would hardly be surprised if that had been intentional on the part of Heaven---another bet, perhaps? He didn't know, and certainly wasn't going to ask), and it had been easy enough to sway the Dark Council to believe he was simply doing what he does best---interfering with the Almighty's plans. If Judas is to be tested, who better to assure he fails the test than the Serpent of Eden?

Of course, it wasn't that simple. Not for Crowley. In spite of himself, something entirely unbecoming for a demon had taken root in him---pity. It wasn't Judas's fault that he'd been chosen to be a pawn in Her game, after all.

At some point over the centuries, that pity had given way to something akin to fondness---not that Crowley will ever admit to that. But, well. When one is immortal, it can be hard not to form some sort of attachment to someone who won't die in a handful of decades and who isn't completely unbearable to be around.

Which has led to moments like this. Demon and ageless human catching up over drinks in a pub.

"Nah, you don't get it because you can't do it," Crowley insists, glass deposited on the bar with a graceless thunk.

NOW, Crowley has his interest, although Judas finds it's oft the case with such infernal company, and he leans forward with his next question—a singular word:

❝ POWER? ❞ The temptation Crowley speaks of isn't a mere silver tongue, after all. It's an ability: one that surpasses human capability. Could the same be said for culpability?

Of course, Judas has seen the demon demonstrate some strange occurrence or another over the years, but never this. It sends his fingertips tapping alongside the mug cupped in his hands. Tea—he does enjoy the manner in which it's evolved over the centuries.

𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭 -

01. avoids eye contact or looking at the floor. 02. wringing hands together in silence. 03. fidgeting with the hem of their shirt, unable to stay still. 04. looking at receiver in long silence before looking away. 05. silently leaves a folded note on the table in front of the other. 06. touches the others arm but pulls back out of guilt.

𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 -

01. slams fist onto a table without saying a word. 02. exhaling sharply through their nose and clenching their jaw. 03. throws an object across the room. 04. crossing their arms tightly, digging fingers into their own skin. 05. pacing the room with heavy steps. 06. glares at the other with a clenched fist.

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 -

01. gently pushing stray hair behind the others ear. 02. resting their forehead against the others. 03. cups the others face with both hands. 04. pressing a kiss to the others forehead in silence. 05. lingering touches against the others face. 06. wraps their arms around the other from behind and rests their head on the others shoulder.

𝐬𝐚𝐝𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 -

01. wiping their eyes before someone can notice. 02. pressing their face into a pillow to muffle sobs. 03. pulls the other into a desperate hug and wont let go. 04. silently reaching for the others hand, needing comfort. 05. walks into the room with red-rimmed eyes and no words.

𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 -

01. spins the other around without warning in a hug. 02. links arms with the other and tugs them along happily. 03. provides the other with a handmade gift. 04. tackles the other in a sudden and joyful hug. 05. kisses the others cheek unexpectedly and grins.

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫 -

01. backing away slowly and looking for exits. 02. hiding behind the other and peeking around. 03. flinches at sudden movement from the other. 04. presses their back against the wall with eyes darting around the room. 05. jumps at a noise and instinctively grabs the others hand.

𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠

01. tucks a blanket gently around the other person's shoulders. 02. applies a bandage with slow and deliberate care. 03. brings them food and water and watches to ensure they eat. 04. runs fingers through their hair in efforts to soothe. 05. rubs soothing circles on the others back while they cry. 06. stays silently by the others side in support without saying a word.

𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠

HE OFFERS THE REST OF THE FRUIT to Andrew, keeping a slice to Himself. When the hungry have been sated, Yeshua's attention returns to Mary, and He rolls a seed between His fingers.

How curious that He would be pleased to see one of her kind. An auburn brow arches as she turns to truly look His way, though it is a gaze she cannot hold long. It makes her itch beneath her skin. Like being in shed before finally sloughing off the old scales. Whether that is due to His innate Holiness or because something about Him makes her reflect on her own nature is not something she cares to examine at this time. Or ever.

"I was just thinking about how you are about to undo all my hard work."

A HUMORLESS LAUGH ripples from His chest, and Yeshua nods gently, a plain acknowledgment of the matter that lies ahead. After a quick shrug of His eyebrows, His head tilts.

❝ NOT ALL OF IT. I'm simply... ❞ Yeshua looks down, palms twisting over each other in slow contemplation before He returns the serpent's gaze. ❝ Giving them another option. A pathway back to Her. ❞

He points Upward, although remorsefully so.