Title: Three Years
Author: Michelle K. (CageyGrl@yahoo.com)
Site: http://glimmershine.tripod.com
Rating: PG-13
Fandom: View Askewniverse (Dogma)
Category: Rufus/Jesus
Summary: Two thousand years ago.

Disclaimer: Rufus belongs to Kevin Smith. Jesus...well, isn't mine. I've also messed around with 
the bible, and used anachronistic dialogue in order to be all Smith-like. Oh, and there are a 
couple of lines from Jesus Christ Superstar, as requested. Apologies to all.

Notes: for kleenexwoman, by way of the Askewniverse
ficathon.

*

Day One

*

John the Baptist was dead.

Rufus wasn't sure what to feel. He was upset, but a bit relieved. Maybe this was a sign -- proof 
that he was foolish for following someone anyway. Not to mention the fact that he was pretty 
sick of everyone he'd spent the last couple of years with.

Especially Peter.

And, speak of the devil -- or, more accurately, the annoying jerk -- and there he was. "Hey, 
man," Rufus said evenly. "What's going on?"

"Great things. *Great* things. Great things." Peter smiled broadly. "Really great--"

"Would you stop saying that?" Rufus snapped. He couldn't believe people considered himself the 
man with a mouth that wouldn't close. "What is it?"

"Jesus."

"That carpenter from Nazareth? What'd he do, make a chair that allows you to recline?"

Peter sighed. "You know," he muttered, annoyed, "I don't mock your dreams. Except that one you 
told me about turning into a bull and having sex with your aunt."

"Fuck. Could you have said that a little louder?"

"No one heard me."

A bearded man passed by, pointing as he did so. "Aunt screwing bull! You freak!"

Peter coughed. "Well. It was just that guy. And it's not like he's going to tell anyone."

"Hey," a man said as he approached, "that guy just told me about how you made your aunt fuck a 
bull. What's that about?"

Rufus lunged at Peter. "I'm going to *kill* you, you loudmouth moron--"

Peter jumped back. "I'm just trying to help you."

The stranger seemed interested, poking his head between the two semi-friends. "What? Is he 
going to sell you another bull?"

Rufus shoved him away and grabbed onto Peter's robe. "I'm going to kick. Your. Ass."

Peter held up his hands. "Let me take you to Jesus!"

"Will he stop me from putting my foot up your ass?"

"Yes! But that's not why I want you to meet him!"

Rufus paused. Peter seemed...genuine. "Really? Then why?"

"Because...he's the son of God."

Rufus didn't know quite what to say to that.

*

Peter kept a safe distance from Rufus as they walked. Rufus didn't notice, as he was now 
occupied by the concept of a heavenly being walking earth. Lucky for Peter, Rufus also missed 
the scattered yells of "Bull fucker!"

"So. How'd this guy go from carpenter to God's son? And when?" Rufus asked.

"Well, he always was," Peter answered. "I guess. But, you know, he only started telling people 
now."

"And you believe him?"

"Yeah. He's...I don't know. Something."

"Wow. You really do know how to advertise for your messiah."

"Look, man, this guy's the real thing. And all of John the Baptist's followers are into him."

"If everyone told you to put sand in your food, would you do that, too?"

"Why? Is that weird?"

Rufus almost turned around right then, until a man caught his attention. Tall, handsome, his 
black skin in sharp contrast to the white robe that clothed him. "That him?"

"Yeah."

"You didn't tell me he was a brother."

"I thought race was irrelevant to you."

"Yeah, but it's never been irrelevant to you, Mr. 'I'd like you to meet my minority friend, 
Rufus.'" Rufus paused. "And, anyway, there's nothing wrong with showing a little preference."

"Oh, but it's not okay that every girlfriend I've had has been white?"

"Shut up and introduce me, okay?" Rufus was pleased that Peter didn't point out that he couldn't
shut up and introduce him at the same time and, instead, led Rufus to the other man.

"Jesus?" Peter began, "This is--"

"Rufus," Jesus smiled as he extended his hand.

Rufus shook Jesus' hand. "How did you know that?"

"Son of God perk!" Peter blurted out.

Jesus shook his head. "No. Rufus...well, let's just say that your mouth is what legends are made 
of. Or so I've heard."

From someone else -- again, especially Peter -- Rufus would be insulted. But Jesus didn't say it 
to be contemptuous. "I don't know if it's legendary."

Jesus smiled. "Well, stick around, and I'll tell you what I think."

*

"Long story short, the guy couldn't eat fish for a week."

Jesus erupted in laughter. Peter, having heard the story a million times before, only smiled.

"Well," Jesus said, "I think that might be legendary."

"What's that?"

Rufus' gaze moved to the interloper: white, with short dark hair and olive skin. Jesus smiled, 
giving him a pat on the back.

"Rufus here was just telling us a story," Jesus said. "Judas, this is Rufus. Rufus, this is 
Judas."

Judas grabbed Rufus' hand before he'd even offered it. "Nice to meet you."

"Yeah. Same here."

*

Rufus wasn't sure he liked Judas. There was something off: something too slick, too smooth. 
Especially when he sidled up to Rufus when he was alone, muttering, "How'd you get here?" like 
it was something that pissed him off.

"Peter brought me."

"Oh." Judas let his eyes move to Jesus, who was talking to two young girls. "Jesus is a great 
man. You just met him but, when you see what he can do..."

Rufus nodded as he watched the man: kind and at ease. "One thing I'll say for him, Jesus is 
cool."

Judas stared at him. "That's all you'd say?"

"Not exactly." Rufus shrugged. "Maybe."

Rufus may not have been sure about what the exact word for Jesus was, but he was pretty sure 
that he wanted to discover a greater vocabulary.

*

Year One

*

"Look! A seagull!"

The man eagerly pointing out the bird was Peter. Almost all of the other apostles -- two James 
and a Judas amongst them -- looked up into the sky with wonder. Rufus glanced up briefly and 
rolled his eyes. White people seemed to get excited over anything. Once, Matthew almost had a 
heart attack at finding a pink rock.

But Matthew...well, Matthew had a lot of problems.

Rufus' gaze drifted to Jesus. Now, Jesus wasn't a moron -- not that the other apostles were 
really morons...Rufus just wasn't feeling particularly generous to his fellows at this moment -- 
but he still stared with wonder at the seagull as it flapped along.

Rufus stared at Jesus. And, if he were honest with himself, he'd admit that there was wonder in 
his eyes, too.

*

Rufus had been following Jesus for only a little more than three months. During that short time, 
he'd seen countless miracles, all in God's name.

"And that's why I can't get excited every time a bird flies by!"

Peter shook his head. "There's no need to get mad at me, Rufus. It was just a question." He 
lowered his voice. "Jesus liked the bird. And he actually performed the miracles, but he still 
doesn't go around hating birds."

"I didn't say I hated the bird. I have no big seagull problem that makes me hold a grudge 
against birds. I just have better things to look at."

Peter smiled. "Oh."

"Oh? What's 'oh'?"

"It's a word."

If Jesus hadn't recently gotten through with his 'turn the other cheek' speech, Rufus would've 
hit him. Instead, he muttered, "Whatever. Go look for more birds and leave me alone for five 
seconds."

*

Rufus was alone for just about five seconds when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Peter didn't 
go around touching everyone, so Rufus figured it wasn't him. A quick glance at the dark fingers 
confirmed that.

"I'm sorry," Rufus muttered.

Jesus let his arm fall to his side as he stepped next to Rufus. "There's no need to apologize."

"C'mon. You can't be okay with me going all crazy on Peter."

"To be honest," he smiled, "I'm used to it."

"So you're calling me crazy?"

"I'm calling you...combustible."

Rufus shrugged. "Fair enough. I'm sorry I can't be more even-handed." He cringed at the way he 
said it -- like it was an insult. "I mean...I don't..." He was going to say, 'think I'm a good 
apostle,' but that seemed too stupid to utter.

"I understand, Rufus."

"Don't you always." He shook his head. "It keeps sounding like I'm giving you shit--"

"Stop apologizing. It's not you. And if I didn't want you here, you wouldn't be here. 
You're...supposed to be here."

"Is that what God tells you?" Again, it sounded like a challenge. "I mean...do you really think 
I was meant to be here?"

"Yes. I don't lie, Rufus."

Rufus nodded. Inhaled. Exhaled. Tried to stop sounding like an asshole. Finally, he decided, 
"I'm just going to shut up for a little while."

*

The people were hungry. And Jesus had a plan.

"Rufus. Lend me twelve bucks."

"Money doesn't grow on trees," he said. He supposed hearing his ma say it over and over made it 
a natural response.

"I know. That's why I'm asking you for it."

Rufus nodded. "Fair enough, man."

*

With the twelve bucks, he bought some loaves and fishes. By a miracle of faith, they all were 
fed.

Rufus would've had to seen it to believe it. By luck, he was there.

*

"Man," Matthew said, "that rocked."

Judas shook his head as he added another stick to the fire. "I don't think that's the correct 
phrase."

"I think it's apt," Peter said. "Quite apt."

"Man, you gotta stop saying apt," Rufus groaned. "You've been saying it about everything." Peter 
opened his mouth. "And preceding it with not doesn't make it a different thing altogether."

Peter closed his mouth, then opened it again. "Okay. You're right."

They laughed, Jesus most of all. Rufus caught himself looking again. Looking as the laugh evened 
out into a smile. When he looked away, Peter was smirking. Judas...was kinda glaring.

Rufus just ignored them both.

*

Year Two

*

"Can I ask you something?" Rufus whispered, trying not to wake up any of the other guys.

"Sure."

Yeah, of course Jesus would say that. "How did you deal with it? Learning that you were the son 
of the God? That's gotta be an awesome responsibility that you can't even begin to understand--"

"Man, Rufus, are you trying to scare me?"

Rufus smiled and shook his head. "Just was curious how you dealt."

"It took me years. Literally. Seventeen of them, in fact."

"Seventeen years?"

"Incredulity from the man who was just trying to freak me out?"

"Hey, I'm not knocking you. I would've freaked out for decades. I just thought you were more 
level-headed."

"I was thirteen. Level-headedness doesn't exist at thirteen. One minute, you're wondering about 
what it feels like to kiss a girl, then....your world's not your own." Jesus stayed quiet for a 
moment. "But this is what I was created for."

"Did you ever...you know..."

"Yeah, I do. And yes. But not often."

Rufus shook his head. "That's gotta be rough."

"It's easy to control the body's impulses--"

"Not that. The whole idea of your world turning upside down. Having it turn out that you're 
something you never could've imagined."

Jesus nodded thoughtfully. "It is."

Rufus silently affirmed his own words.

*

Rufus wasn't in love with Jesus. Not just for the obvious reasons -- he was not one of those 
Sodomites, and being attracted to the son of God just *sounded* fucked-up -- but because Rufus 
wasn't the type to fall in love. All the apostles seemed to have their stories of needing some 
girl so bad it hurt. But Rufus just liked getting laid. Which hadn't happened in a long time.

So, if his eyes lingered on Jesus' frame, if he considered pressing his lips against his....

Just meant he *really* needed to get laid.

"There's nothing wrong with it, you know," Peter muttered.

"Wrong with what?"

"With loving him. I mean, he's never really talked about that kind of stuff, and I imagine if it 
were one of God's priorities he'd tell his son to mention it."

Rufus may have gotten over his desire to punch Peter, but he still liked rolling his eyes at 
him. "What did I just tell you? And by the way, if you breathe a word of this--"

"Hey, you know I can keep a secret. Recently." Peter cleared his throat. "I'm just saying, you 
don't have to explain it away."

"I'm explaining, not explaining away."

"I'm just saying, I haven't gotten laid in a long time, but I don't stare at Jesus like he's a 
walking sex party."

"Go away."

"Okay." Peter didn't move. "I'm just saying--"

"I'll kick your ass."

"No you won't."

Rufus sighed. "You're right. But choose not to exploit this."

Peter nodded. "Okay."

*

"Dude! Two pink rocks!" Matthew eagerly held them up, both of them catching the light of the 
fire.

James One seemed to consider this very interesting. James Two seemed to question what was going 
on with James One, and quickly tried to divert attention from the whole issue. "So," he said, 
turning to Peter, "I saw you talking to that chick--"

"Mary is not a chick. She's a woman." Peter insisted, to which the rest of them gave a 
resounding "Oooooooh." "Oh, I wish there was something to make long noises about."

A hush fell over the crowd, quickly broken by laughter.

"Oh, my pain is funny to you people?" Peter muttered. "That's lovely."

"Hey, it's not like any of us are getting a lot of women," Rufus said, partly to stick up for 
Peter, partly to point out the obvious. "We're all in the same boat." He looked over at Jesus. 
"Well, not quite."

Everyone laughed, though from some it seemed strained. From the corner of his eye, he caught 
Judas glaring at him. He decided to keep paying attention to Jesus.

Not that it meant anything.

*

"Always hoped that I'd be an apostle," Matthew sang. "Knew that I would make it if I tried."

"Then, when we retire, we can write the Gospels," Peter continued, "so they'll all talk about 
us when we've died."

They waited for Rufus, the only other person with them, to join in, but he didn't.

Really, neither was surprised.

"What are you two singing about?" Rufus asked, his brow furrowed.

"Well," Peter said. "It was kinda self-explanatory."

"I really don't think what we're doing is all about the possibility that people are going to 
remember *us*," Rufus snarked. "If that's all you care about, then that's just fucked up."

Peter shrugged. "That's not all I care about. Just a perk."

Then, Judas approached. "Rufus. Now."

Rufus shared a perplexed glance with Peter and followed the retreating man. "Where are you 
going?"

At that moment, Judas turned around. "I know what you're trying to do. And it's not going to 
happen. I know."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Judas poked him in the chest. "You know what I'm talking about."

Rufus thought he did. But he didn't want to consider why Judas *knew* he would.

*

Year Three

*

"Judas is messed up."

Rufus was relieved to hear those words aloud instead of swimming around in his own head. "You 
see it?"

Peter nodded. "The dude is just...something."

"You know how we always talk about how you should try to think about other ways to describe 
people? I think I'm going to have to have that talk with you yet again."

"Look," Peter said, "Let's not get off track. We're supposed to be badmouthing Judas."

"Right."

"He just looks like he's up to something."

Rufus nodded, but abruptly stopped when one of the fellow apostles joined them by the fire.

Matthew squinted. "What are you guys talking about?"

"Nothing," Rufus said. Thankfully, Matthew was easy to convince.

Soon, the rest of them gathered around. Jesus was last.

"How is everyone?" Judas said, a gesture of pleasantry that had been in short supply from him 
lately.

There were scattered utterances: mainly 'fine's.

Rufus didn't answer him at all.

*

"Long story short," Peter said, "the guy couldn't eat fish for a week."

Rufus smiled, despite the fact that it started off as his own joke. Peter had a way with it, 
anyway.

But, no, his eyes couldn't stay on Peter.

It was like any time before. Rufus looked at him a moment too long -- something Judas and Peter 
probably caught -- but this time, Jesus looked back.

Jesus *stared* back.

Rufus was transfixed. It seemed so bizarre, yet normal. Like his whole life for the past three 
years, but--

Jesus looked away.

Rufus was disappointed and relieved at the same time.

"We should all be getting some sleep," Jesus said finally. "Tomorrow will be long."

*

Despite Jesus' words, he accepted Rufus' request to have a private conversation.

"I don't trust him."

"Who?"

"You know who," Rufus challenged. "That guy's been acting like a weasel for weeks. You have to 
get rid of him--"

Jesus placed a hand on Rufus' arm. "God...he has a plan for me. And because of that...there are 
things I can't do."

It didn't feel like they were talking about Judas anymore. "Can't? Or won't?"

"Can't." He exhaled. "And I think you know that."

"You see, the basic point of this is, I don't know what the fuck to think. I don't know what's 
going to happen. I don't even know what *is* happening. My life is just...not what I thought it 
was going to be." He let the words sound melancholy, let himself pretend that the life he 
would've had was anything close to perfect. Or passable. "I feel these things that make no 
sense... And why exactly did God make a world without sense when a sensible one would've been 
perfectly acceptable to the masses?"

"Everything happens for a reason. It's part of God's--"

"It's part of God's plan to have Judas skulk around plotting some shit without anybody taking 
him to task? It's the plan that--" Rufus didn't cry. Rufus never cried. "I think we both know 
what I'm talking about," he said, just to keep himself from saying it aloud.

Jesus leaned forward suddenly, kissing him on the forehead.

Then, Jesus was gone.

Rufus got the distinct feeling that nothing was solved. And that this was part of the 
oft-mentioned plan.

*

Tonight was more solemn than usual. Not just because it was a Seder -- one that featured Mary, 
still the object of Peter's one-sided affection, as a guest -- but because of the tension that 
hung over the room.

Mary kissed Jesus' temple before she sat. They said a prayer after which Jesus cleared his 
throat.

"One of you will betray me."

Rufus knew exactly who it would be.

Judas didn't look up.

*

"We can't sit around waiting," Rufus insisted.

Jesus pressed his palms together; a perpetual prayer. "That's all we can do."

Almost as if on cue, a group of soldiers, led by Judas, approached. Rufus lunged past Judas and 
to the first of the guards. Peter took the one behind that. The other men were stronger, quickly 
knocking Rufus and Peter to the ground. They were stopped from getting up by Jesus' voice.

"Don't fight them." He glanced at Judas, then at the men who were there to take him away. "I 
intend to go peacefully. I always did."

Judas crossed to Jesus, pressed his lips against those of the man he betrayed. Rufus felt sick 
at his jealousy. The guards took Jesus, restrained him. Rufus knew this was it.

This was the beginning of the end.

*

Blood trickled down Jesus' body.

Death hung in the air.

"Forgive them father, for they know not what they do."

*

Rufus knew that what happened was planned for Jesus by the higher power that created him, as 
hard as the truth of that fate was to accept. Jesus suffered for a reason. And Jesus' soul was 
in heaven now.

Not to mention the fact that Judas had ended up having a conscience and died haunted by guilt.

And Jesus was fine.

Rufus was fine, too.

"That's why you don't have to stare at me like I'm about to break."

Peter shrugged. "I'm not. I'm just concerned. Everything's been surreal."

"You don't think that applies to every moment of the past three years?"

Before Peter could answer, a roar erupted from the crowd.

"He..." Matthew muttered as he ran toward the pair. "He's back."

*

Rufus didn't know what to think as he saw Jesus, unmarked and standing right before him.

"You're here?"

Jesus smiled. "Not for long. They just... needed to know." He wrapped his arms around Rufus, 
hugging him for a moment. He gave him a note. "Read it after I'm gone, okay?"

Rufus nodded, watched as he moved onto Peter. Matthew. Mary. His mother.

Then, he ascended.

Peter put an arm around Rufus. "That was..."

"Yeah." Rufus played with the paper. "I need to be alone for a little while, man."

*

He unrolled the tiny piece of paper. Written in Jesus' small, precise writing were the words: 
"See you in two years. Jesus."

He smiled at the promise. Then:

"Two years? You can't tell someone they got two years to live!" He looked up at the sky. "That 
just ain't right."

END