forallyoucare | (no subject)

When Jesus had found Judas, he was nothing. Another petty drug user on the street, doing shit he shouldn't have to make ends meet. Sometimes, not even managing that. Ever since then, JC had put him on a better path, one that not only did good but made him feel good. Doing things for the right reasons, helping people who had been in the situation he had been in once before, doing good. Slowly, they had found others that needed a path like he had and together, they had pulled together twelve people who could get things done when they put their minds to it. Found food when people needed food. Found warm clothing. Found water. Found medicines. Found whatever what was needed, even if they themselves lived skrimping things together. He made sure that any donations they received went to the needy first, them second. It felt good, even when the others sometimes gave him a look for being too frugal.

He had no idea about the voices except in a vague way, mentions of things JC had done as a younger man, but not just how... much they had spoken to him nor that they had suddenly returned.

So when suddenly JC came up with this wonky idea, Judas just gave him a look that was a heavy mixture of surprise and 'are you serious?' "...With what kind of money could we afford to rent an RV? Besides, renting is impractical. And... twelve of us in an RV? We'll go nuts in three days." Not that the idea didn't have merit, of course. Being able to help more people in more places, set up more shelters... it spoke to the part of him what wanted to do good while the logical, practical side balked at the amount it would cost to rent something big enough for the twelve of them.

“All right-- So we won’t rent. We’ll buy. Listen, you know I have money for it. My dad’s business-- I haven’t used a lave in six months at least. I’m sitting on real estate that I could just…you know—“ JC made a little shrug, as if the whole process of selling off real estate was just a simple matter of signing some papers. “Dad left mum enough money to live on so I don’t have to support her.” JC had more or less already spent his inheritance on Judas’ Feed The World initiatives and gas money and buying everyone sandwiches or coffee. “And what about urm… What’s Bart calling it? Oh, Kickstarter! Help us buy an RV and we’ll visit the top five or ten or whatever towns that contribute!”

If this could just happen already, JC was sure, the voice was stop for a little while. The constant thump of it was starting to make him more manic than usual, though it mostly came off as if he had been drinking entirely too much caffeine than anything serious or alarming. There was an almost earnest desperation in his eyes, but it mirrored hope as he gripped the sheets on a bed in a tiny room that Judas rented with some of the other guys. He held tight with both hands, left knee bouncing up and down like he had to use the bathroom.

It was difficult to tell JC no. He was too charismatic. Too well spoken. He shone too brightly.

“We can at least try can’t we?”

Sigh. When JC got like this, it was hard to deny him anything. Judas rubbed a hand over his face and then rubbed his eyes before he walked over to his bag thrown into the corner, digging out the precious notebook he kept all of their finances in. Tugging the latest pen from the binding, he opened it up to the latest page and studied over it. Could they afford this? Sometimes JC made it sound so easy, like they could snap their fingers and make everything happen, but in his mind, JC was far from practical about anything. Maybe it was because he'd grown up mostly just fine with his father having a business, his mother doing well, but once in a while Judas could have strangled him.

"Alright, alright, look," he said in a tone that showed he was relenting, partly, "I'll start looking around to see what I can find. An RV for Twelve people... that's a damn big RV. Need to see if we can find one around here big enough and how much it'll cost. Okay?" It was a step in the right direction of what JC wanted to do, at least. They couldn't just poof a vehicle that big out of no where. "Give me a day or two to find what we need, and then we'll figure out how much we need to raise or sell or whatever to be able to get it."

But he did hesitate, chewing on the inside of his lip, before pointing out, "what do you think the others are going to think about this? Most of them haven't even traveled that much in their lives."

The hug that came was swift and warm and prolonged and wholly expected. JC was likely the touchiest over-five year old on the planet. No one hugged or held hands with friends and strangers alike more than JC did. He was tactile in ways that made grown men, who all grew up in a culture where they were not supposed to be doing such things with one another, more than all right with the experience. People tended to come away saying that JC smelled good. Or hugged them the way that someone important but now gone from their lives use to. It all had to do with that charisma, surely, but it made no difference.

He was a magician without doing much more than offering a smile and a touch.

That lingering hug eventually broke off and JC bounded back to his feet so he could fish his phone from the pocket of his skinny jeans. He wanted to tell everyone all together. Tomorrow, after Judas found a suitable RV or an old tour bus or something for them to buy. He sent a group text informing the Twelve to meet at the beach for pizza at dinner tomorrow. The sound of the sent message, followed by the buzz of Judas’ phone, made JC smile dazzlingly.

“Everyone heard the same calling,” JC said, several long minutes after Judas had actually asked him if he thought the Twelve would be willing to travel. “This is what we’re supposed to be doing. See you tomorrow!”

There was always something to be said about Jesus' hugs. For Judas, they were unique. Something completely different than his parents, something that made him feel far better inside than anything they had ever done to or for him. It had taken some getting used to (JC had born a bruise or two from those initial attempts to hug Judas were he had come up in a panic) but now they weren't just unexpected but welcomed. It let Judas sink his head against the other's shoulder for a few seconds, yes he did smell good, and let go of things even if for just a short period of time before JC stepped back and the world returned.

He ignored the buzz, given he knew the message going out at least vaguely, and grabbed the beat up grey coat he had been carting around with him for a while now. Hearing JC tell him that 'everyone heard the same calling' made his brows furrow slightly, after all he hadn't felt that calling, and shrug. "See you tomorrow." Instead of relaxing tonight and going over the numbers, he was going to go pound some pavement.

By the time they were all supposed to meet the following day, Judas was running late. Catching the bus back to this part of town meant dealing with their schedule, but he did have some good news to bring. Everyone else was relaxing, wide grins and excitement in their eyes, curious about why JC had brought them all together. Peter was spread out on the sand, soaking it in with his eyes closed and looking positively pleased with it, and some of the others had guitars out and were playing off of one another as they waited. It wouldn't be until almost twenty minutes late that Judas would show up, panting a little from a run from the bus stop, but with a sheaf of papers in hand.

It’s done. The voice had been chanting that in JC’s head on every tenth’s exhale for almost an hour now. He’d tried to busy himself with laying out blankets or setting down pizzas. He kept telling everyone that asked that they would be told what this was all about as soon as Judas arrived. But it was starting to give him a headache. Thankfully, ten exhales later, once Judas was giving him the details of what he’d discovered, JC heard nothing but silence in his head.

Good, that meant he’d done well.

The print out on the paper showed a black and white picture of a beaten up old tour bus. It had peeling paint and scratched off façade where evidently some county singer’s face and name had been in its previous life. It was hard to tell from the photo, but JC could tell that the wheels were shot and the bus itself needed more than just a little TLC, but it was still perfect.

The price was even better. One of the guys at the metal yard that currently ‘housed’ the bus was a fan of John’s blog and the YouTube channel and had been to a few meetings too and said that they could have the bus as long as they could move it off of the lot. Bart was a mechanic by trade and JC’s eyes immediately found the laughing man as he ate his pizza two slices at a time.

“This is why you’re my right hand man,” JC grinned, grabbing Judas by the shoulders and kissing him on the forehead before he turned to the other eleven. “Everyone! Judas has found us a new home for a little while. We’re going to begin to spread the word outside of the suburbs. It’s time to be more than just a curiosity with a thousand Twitter followers,” he announced.

Simon perked right up, mouth open. “D’jya mean we’re going on tour!?”

Judas ended up standing there, blinking, for a long moment after the kiss before he grinned wide, a good feeling passing through him, before he followed after. He stood right there, at JC’s right hand, and looked proud. It would definitely take a lot of work to get the bus into something they could handle and function, and Bart would need to get his hands on it and get it running again, but it could be done. And ‘free’ was damn good deal in his book.

“Tour?” Peter said, his eyes wide and looking younger than ever as he started to grin. “You mean we’re going to travel?!”

“Wait, what kind of home?” Came from Bart, who was peering curiously as a slice of pizza hung from his hand.

Handing over the paper to Bart, JC knelt in the sand facing the center of the rough clam shell his friends had formed to grab some pizza before certain someones ate it all. Leaving a spot for Judas, he spoke excitedly about his new vision for the Twelve and for their work. It sounded a little like the fake but had bitten him, but JC was usually the most down to Earth guy here and no one suspected that the little bit of fame he had on Tiwtter had done much to his ego. What he spoke about was spreading the message. It was almost like he was going to try to convince the country to open their eyes to the occupation. To teach them to help themselves and to help others. He wanted to spread his message. He wanted Rome to leave, peacefully.

It had worked for Martin Luther King Jr. It had worked for Ghandi in India. Why couldn't it work for them?

Never mind that both of those leaders were brutally killed.... Their messages lived on.

"We will travel across our country. We'll speak to whomever will listen. We'll help the needy along the way. And maybe we'll go as far as Jerusalem one day. But we have a lot of work to do. We have a tour bus to fix up and to make our home. And a Kickstarter campaign to start for materials and food and fuel along the way.... I need all of you with me for this. You're my Twelve. You're my chosen."

Judas plopped himself down beside JC, but his brows were going up as he listened to his friend talk and ate a piece of pizza. Wait, this is getting beyond what they had talked about. They were supposed to be helping people, and Judas supposed trying to talk about the occupation was one way to help, but at the same time, Rome would eventually start to get word of them which could lead to trouble, which was the last thing Judas wanted, but at the same time, was it worse to try and get more people thinking about the occupation?

Still, a little shiver when down his spine.

"Yeah!" Bart said around a mouthful of food, his eyes bright. "If we can haul the bus over to the shop, I bet I can get my old boss to let us work on it if we pay for the parts and stuff."

"I could set up a Kickstarter," Peter murmured, peering to Simon beside him. "We could." He gave a smile, excited about the idea. "It wouldn't be that hard to get people interested, I bet!"

"Fuck yeah it'll be easy!" Simon never apologized for his mouth. He was probably the roughest of them all and no one paid him much attention when he went off spouting about Anarchy or revolt. JC himself usually tried to calm that train of thought too. This was no about revolt. This was about allowing Israel to have more rights, to have better and cheaper health care, to have access to public works and jobs-- JC could see a future that was far more fair and equal. He truly wished that for his friends and for everyone across the globe.

JC waved everyone down to a low simmer as Matthew spoke about how to build interest and everyone else pitched in with offering up money they had saved or skills that might be useful on the road or getting them to the road to begin with.

It was a wonderful start and as the night touched the sky above them and a fire was built for warmth and light, JC never felt more at peace. The voice didn't nag at him. His Twelve were all willing and able to begin this journey--

An exhaustion settled over him, as if he had done a day's hard work in the shop. His bones ached pleasantly and he yawned as he left the circle and pulled his boots back on. The sand between his toes didn't phase him. He bid everyone goodnight, but welcomed Judas to walk beside him as he headed home. His mom's house was just a few blocks away and Judas could crash there or take a bus back to the house he shared with some of the guys.

"I think you're my good luck charm," JC laughed, though he never really spoke about supernatural things, not even as jokes. "It's all been so much easier since I met you."

Maybe it was his roughness that attracted Peter to Simon, but the youngest of their group said nothing about it, only had a bit of a look in his eyes every time he watched Simon. They couldn't have been more different people, but that didn't bother him. It only made him more interested, but he knew he wasn't Simon's type in the least.

Everyone was excited about the possibilities. For some, it meant doing something larger than they had ever done before. For others, it was a chance to make an even bigger difference. For at least one or two, it was about the real way to speak out about their government. They could do something more. However, for one of them, he was honestly debating how he felt about it. A chance to spread their good to more places, inspire more people to do good, but... some of these other things had him wary. It might have had something to do with his run-ins with the law previously.

With one hand in a pocket and the other holding a cigarette, he peered over to JC in the low light and raised an eyebrow. "Maybe I am," he said, a small smile touching his lips. "I already know you're mine, so fair trade, I guess."

JC threw an arm around his best friend and leaned in close, forcing their gaits to match up. He didn't pay any attention to the smoking, nicotine on Judas' hair and clothing was just part of who the man was. JC would never want to change that.

They parted ways at the end of JC's drive and Jesus waved his friend off as he headed to the bus stop down the block. The voice did not return in the silence and he looked up at the stars before heading back inside. His mother greeted him from the couch where she watched a game show and did some sewing and JC kissed the top of her head before heading up to his room.

The next day, bright and early, the Twelve and JC stood in front of the tour bus in person. It was a lot worse than the grainy picture made it seem but Simon was as enthusiastic as ever.

"It's a gut job," John said, not quite complaining.

"That's what makes it so great! There are eight bunks and a back bedroom and a kitchen with a table and those couches--" Simon protested before Andrew cut him off.

"Couches with bed bugs and roaches in em."

"Gut job! We'll make it our own. Someone got a phone? We should record this. Our progress. Day One. The fixer upper!"

JC grinned and walked forward. He didn't see a rusting old bus. He saw their future. His hand pressed to flaking paint and Matthew whipped out his phone to capture the moment.

Judas looked over the bus with a somewhat dubious look, but still wanted to believe this could really happen. Trying to get something fully furnished was beyond their abilities even with some help, but they could make this work (or so he wanted to believe). He gave the bus a pat and looked to Bart, who was over talking to the man in charge of this scrap heap. As predicted, the boss Bart worked for was okay with him bringing the bus over to the shop and gave them space for it, but they needed to get it over there. Even that was going to take quite a bit of their ready money, but Judas hoped like hell this Kickstarter worked like the others thought it would.

Thad looked over, running a hand through his hair, and offered up, "I could get started on a design to get this fixed up." He always did have a bit of an eye for sketching, and he was looking over the bus with a thoughtful expression.

"Bart can get it running again, and JC you can help us build the inside back up, right?" James called over, peering at a broken window with a frown. "If we can get the bugs out."

“Mum will be happy to see me in the shop again. All right, let me get some tools and I’ll meet you back at the garage?” JC was just going to walk. It was a nice day and he wasn’t going to be of much use moving the tour bus. He knew absolutely nothing about mechanics and it was entirely too large to push the mile or so that they had to go. About to leave Judas to the job of figuring out the logistics, JC felt a cold chill wriggle up his spine.

All you need to do is touch the hood. The voice was as insistent as ever. No. It was worse, not a whisper but an outright command. JC actually felt his head pulse with the words and he pressed both of his hands against his temples.

“JC?” A chorus of voices, all concerned, followed.

He brushed them off, gently. Especially Peter. Pushing through the gathered men, he came to stand up on the back bumper of another car and, leaning over, he pressed his palms against the hood.

There was a spark and an eruption of black smoke from the tailpipe. The colour had completely drained from JC’s tanned cheeks so he was little more than bone white. He stumbled getting down from the bumper.

“Try it now.”

The entire group jumped at that sudden noise, leaving them to all stare for several long moments, back and forth between JC and the bus, before it was Judas who slowly moved through everyone and hauled himself up into the driver's seat, reaching over and turning the keys. The sound that came out of the bus was not a good one, but it did, after a few attempts to turn over, actually start up. Even the guy who was giving it to them stared, completely confused. Only Bart was close enough to hear him mutter, "that thing hasn't started in years..."

There was a lot of cheering from the group, but Judas' eyes were only on JC, concern in his eyes as he saw how terrible his friend suddenly looked. He climbed out of the driver's seat and walked over, putting a hand on JC's shoulder, trying to meet his eyes and make sure the other was all right. "JC? Shit, man, talk to me." What the hell was that?!

There was a far away, almost glassy look to JC’s eyes even as Judas came to pull him away from the cheering. Sure, Jesus was smiling, somewhat, like he was just starting to come down off of a high and had no idea where he was or why everyone was celebrating. It was a look Judas, of all people, knew well.

“What?” He snaked his arm around his friend’s ironically unironic t-shirted waist and blinked a little more clarity into his gaze. “Nothing. I mean, the system had a little extra…gunk in it. I guess.” He wasn’t about to tell Judas that a voice told him to touch the hood. Or had told him to get a bus in the first place.

It was a provider. It did not want the lime light.

“Hopefully it will get everyone to the garage, right? I’m going to head back to dad’s workshop and get some tools too. Are you all right?” Yeah, he could read the look on Judas’ face. Skepticism was his middle name.

Judas was not only skeptical but worried. He'd seen that glassy look in the eyes of people before and it usually came down to high or sick, both of which he'd never known JC to be a moment of his life. (High on life maybe but... not the same.) Sometimes JC could go... spacey on him, but this? This was definitely not that, either.

"I'm just fine," Judas said slowly, as if JC wasn't realizing that he wasn't fooled. "Look- I'm going with you, okay?" That was that, as far as he was concerned. After that little stunt, whatever it was, he wasn't about to let Jesus just go walking off on his own. What if something was wrong and he just passed out?

He slid his arm around his friend, not caring if the others saw the movement. Concern he wouldn't show so readily but now he looked just slightly grumpy, hiding that worry.

JC leaned against Judas, more than happy for the closeness as usual. "You can always come with me. I might even insist on it." Where would he be without judas? Most of the men here were from the local liberal arts college, big thinkers but not really big doers. Simon was different. And Bart. And Judas most of all. The three were his favoured, along with Peter, but he loved Peter for a different, perhaps less wholesome reason.

He'd saved the three others in ways he would never save the rest. Bart had been on the verge of suicide, stuck in a dead end job, whose wife had left him with their infant son for another. Simon had been part of what he called a Male Review, but he had really been a scene stripper and prostitute with an alcohol problem. And judas--

His Judas he had found on the street. The voice hadn't led him there, his feet had, but finding Judas had been the best day of JC's life. It might still be.

He was the true definition of soul mate.

JC set his head on Judas's shoulder and sloppily slumped against him as they rounded the corner.

"Mum's gonna be mad," he said quietly. "She won't want me to go."

Protector, guardian, brother, friend. Judas considered himself all of these when it came to JC. Sure, he watched over the rest of the Twelve, even the ones who were older than him, but there was a connection to JC in a way he couldn't explain. Soul mate definitely might have been the closest thing he could have found to it, and in the end, he had no problem in hearing it from JC or thinking it in his own head, but it would have been very difficult to say aloud. Affection, in any sense, wasn't something he was easy with.

"Your mother," Judas pointed out, easily holding JC's weight up, "is someone who I can't even imagine getting mad, never mind you. She thinks the world of you. She might get sad about it," in fact he was certain of that, "but not angry." Mary loved her son in a way that Judas couldn't even find himself being jealous of, not when she was such a kind woman.

"She was so mad last time I left home," JC insisted, thumb finding one of Judas' belt loops. His father had been alive then, and the two of them had come charging into the university where he was lecturing-- He hadn't said very nice things to them then. His temper had always been so bad when it flared even if the Twelve had never had to see it. That was all before. Back when the voice was strongest.

"You're gonna stay right? She can't tell if you're with me." Mary would never yell, period, but JC seemed convinced that he was going to be in trouble. The man was twenty-nine years old. It seemed such an odd thing.

But the inside of his skull felt slick. Itchy. He didn't like it.

"Uh huh." Didn't believe that for a second. There wasn't a single part of him that could ever imagine Mary actually angry at anything; she was the calmest person he had ever known. He even felt calm around her, which was saying something. He squeezed JC's waist, a small smile coming up to his lips.

"Course I'll stay, defend you against your mother." He rolled his eyes and grinned, showing it was clearly a joke. Really, how did someone JC's age still fear their mother? It was ridiculous, but it was just a part of the whole of who JC was.

They got up to the front door and Judas grabbed the outer door, letting JC unlock the inner and bringing him inside. He blinked a few times against the difference in lighting change from the darkness outside to the warm light inside, peering to see if he could see her. It was clear they were spotted quickly because from the couch, tucked into the corner, was Mary, with a ball of yarn beside her as she worked on something Judas couldn't quite identify. "Hello you two," she called over, smiling softly.

Unleashing himself from Judas' side, JC moved over to his mother and sat lightly on the coffee table. She smiled at him and he at her. JC had her eyes and her hair. Judas had only ever seen photos of JC's dad but he couldn't look more different than the man sitting with his mother. JC was definitely Mary's son, however, right down the olive touch to his skin. He took her hands and leaned forward.

"Can I get you anything before Judas and I go to bed?"

Mary said she was absolutely fine, but pulled her hand from his to touch his cheek. "You're so pale, Jesus. What have you been doing?"

"Moving a bus," JC said and put his hand over his heart. "Honestly. To Bart's garage. We're going to fix it up."

She really did look skeptical then, glancing to Judas for confirmation. "If that is what you want to do with your time," she said, like all good Jewish mothers. "But you should get back to your studies. Or to work. You make such beautiful things, Jesus. Your aunt was over the other day and mentioned how much she would like a table like the one you built--"

JC was calm as he stood. "I will be building, mum. I have very important things to build."

Judas wanted to argue, just a little, that it felt like something had happened there with the bus, but when Mary looked to him he just gave a little shrug. No anger or sour or shake of his head that would have negated what JC was saying. Really, that had been what they were doing but... man. Maybe he was over-thinking it or something.

JC did get a look from Judas at his last words. Don't lie to your Mama! He knew JC didn't mean what she did and sometimes he wondered why JC didn't do some of the woodwork on the side. ...He did do beautiful work. Still, all of their focus was on everything they were building in another sense, and that was that.

"Thanks for letting me stay over," Judas offered less-than-helpfully, appreciating that Mary hadn't even balked on letting her home be open to him in the past or now. She was not the kind of person he could be his normal sourpuss around. He gave a little flip of a wave before he ducked into the hall and back towards JC's room, ready to strip down and get some sleep.

JC wasn't lying. He never lied. He was about to build something great. The voice told him so. He was going to do more than the tour bus, he was going to build up humanity itself. It was a gift. It was what he had been born to do. No one was ever going to understand that until they saw it.

JC kissed his mother goodnight on the forehead after she smiled at her son and her son's best friend and told Judas he was always more than welcome. JC got her some more water and grabbed a beer from the refrigerator. He didn't brink, not usually. Sometimes he had some of Judas' drink but mostly he stuck to coffee and water. This beer was kept specifically for his friends and it was nice and cold when he arrived in his room.

He stood in the doorway too long, watching Judas pull off his shirt, scarf already looped over the back of the chair at his desk. He leaned against the threshold, head on moulding his father crafted and installed as his eyes traced over the familiar freckles and scars that covered Judas' skin.

Lying by omission counted, as far as Judas was concerned, but he wasn't about to ride JC for it. It was just to spare his mother's feelings. Right now though it felt good to get out of jacket and scarf, scratching at his ribs as he dropped his tee shirt down on top of his jacket. He stretched out slowly, feeling his bones flex against one another, before he dropped his arms and let out a huff.

Some six sense told him to turn around, so he glanced over his shoulder and raised a brow at JC before giving a little twitch-twitch of his backside in a joking manner before he spotted the beer. A smile came up to his lips and he wiggled his fingers in the bottle's direction. "You know me too well," he said with a joke and warmth in his voice.

He settled himself on the edge of JC's bed with the bottle in hand in only his pants, using his teeth to pop open the bottle. He spat out the cap into his other hand and took a drink, his eyes closing at the small pleasure of a truly cold beer. When he was done he gave a quick lick of his lips and settled himself comfortably. "How long do you think it'll take Bart to get that bus up and running fully? The inside needs a lot of work, too... few months?"