Christmas Spirit
No fandom for this one, it's original. A conversation between a Saint and an Archangel.
"Judas."
The tall blond addressed a smaller red-haired man, who turned at the mention of his name.
"Michael," the redhead replied with mock surprise. "Fancy meeting you here."
"So you've heard, then?" Michael asked, not knowing whether to be worried or relieved.
"Yup. Not being in the fold doesn't mean I don't keep my ear to the ground. Pass me that number two Robertson, would you?"
Michael snorted with amusement, then bent down and found the right screwdriver in the toolbox in front of him and handed it to Judas, who accepted it with thanks and set himself to screwing the perspex cover over the terminals of the transformer he'd been examining.
"If you're here because the old man wants a fall guy, tell him to look somewhere else," Judas said, resolutely keeping his eyes on his work. "I've done my dash on that front."
"Couldn't have done it without you."
"Yes you could. It was just easier this way. And look where it got me."
"Two thousand years later, people still know your name," Michael said, leaning nonchalantly against the side of the transformer and stuffing his hands in his pockets.
Judas barked a laugh.
"Yeah, and look how they use it. Judas goat. Judas kiss. And they have no idea what those thirty pieces of silver cost me."
"Still bitter, then?"
"After the way Emmanuel got all the glory when the rest of us did all the work? Just a bit. That's why I'm here and he's the big guy's right-hand man. Tell me how that's fair." He drove the last screw home and tested the cover to make sure it was secure.
"But a sainthood, apostlehood..."
"Not according to some of Emmanuel's people."
"Well, humans, eh?"
Judas looked up sharply.
"Aren't they supposed to be the reason we're doing this? The old man's favourite creatures, made in His image and given reason and opposable thumbs?"
Michael had the good grace to look ashamed. He opened his mouth to say something, but Judas held a hand up to silence him.
"No, Michael. That's why I'm not interested. Because you and the most of the rest of the old guard have lost sight of why we do this. It's because of them," he continued, standing up and waving his arm at the shoppers passing on the snowy street nearby. "It's not about you, it's not about Lucifer, and it sure as hell isn't about Emmanuel. It's about them. And until you all get off your bloody high horses and realise that, I'm not coming back."
Michael folded his arms.
"We will conscript you if we have to," he said calmly.
"But you won't," Judas replied, equally confidently. "Not until you get really desperate."
"For the record, I knew you'd refuse," Michael said, his equanimity still intact.
"Then why bother?" Judas put the screwdriver away, closed up and locked the transformer and got his notebook out.
"Because I had to know I tried. And because you had to know that we were actively looking."
"Well, now I know," said Judas, jotting down some notes and putting the notebook away. "And now you get to say something portentous and fuck off back to Heaven to let the big guy know I'm not coming except under duress." He looked defiantly into Michael's clear blue eyes.
"No need for that," Michael replied, smiling. "One question, though."
"Yeah?" Judas asked, suspicious.
"Why an electrician? Of all things?"
Judas grinned.
"Do you know how many times I get to say 'Let there be light' in the average week?"
Michael laughed, a genuine, huge, ringing laugh.
"Judas," he said, putting his hand on the saint's shoulder. "Never change."
"Not a hope," Judas replied, chuckling to himself.
"See you around," said Michael, unfurling his wings and launching himself straight up into the sky.
"Yeah," said Judas, hands on hips, staring up after him. "Yeah, you probably will."
"Judas."
The tall blond addressed a smaller red-haired man, who turned at the mention of his name.
"Michael," the redhead replied with mock surprise. "Fancy meeting you here."
"So you've heard, then?" Michael asked, not knowing whether to be worried or relieved.
"Yup. Not being in the fold doesn't mean I don't keep my ear to the ground. Pass me that number two Robertson, would you?"
Michael snorted with amusement, then bent down and found the right screwdriver in the toolbox in front of him and handed it to Judas, who accepted it with thanks and set himself to screwing the perspex cover over the terminals of the transformer he'd been examining.
"If you're here because the old man wants a fall guy, tell him to look somewhere else," Judas said, resolutely keeping his eyes on his work. "I've done my dash on that front."
"Couldn't have done it without you."
"Yes you could. It was just easier this way. And look where it got me."
"Two thousand years later, people still know your name," Michael said, leaning nonchalantly against the side of the transformer and stuffing his hands in his pockets.
Judas barked a laugh.
"Yeah, and look how they use it. Judas goat. Judas kiss. And they have no idea what those thirty pieces of silver cost me."
"Still bitter, then?"
"After the way Emmanuel got all the glory when the rest of us did all the work? Just a bit. That's why I'm here and he's the big guy's right-hand man. Tell me how that's fair." He drove the last screw home and tested the cover to make sure it was secure.
"But a sainthood, apostlehood..."
"Not according to some of Emmanuel's people."
"Well, humans, eh?"
Judas looked up sharply.
"Aren't they supposed to be the reason we're doing this? The old man's favourite creatures, made in His image and given reason and opposable thumbs?"
Michael had the good grace to look ashamed. He opened his mouth to say something, but Judas held a hand up to silence him.
"No, Michael. That's why I'm not interested. Because you and the most of the rest of the old guard have lost sight of why we do this. It's because of them," he continued, standing up and waving his arm at the shoppers passing on the snowy street nearby. "It's not about you, it's not about Lucifer, and it sure as hell isn't about Emmanuel. It's about them. And until you all get off your bloody high horses and realise that, I'm not coming back."
Michael folded his arms.
"We will conscript you if we have to," he said calmly.
"But you won't," Judas replied, equally confidently. "Not until you get really desperate."
"For the record, I knew you'd refuse," Michael said, his equanimity still intact.
"Then why bother?" Judas put the screwdriver away, closed up and locked the transformer and got his notebook out.
"Because I had to know I tried. And because you had to know that we were actively looking."
"Well, now I know," said Judas, jotting down some notes and putting the notebook away. "And now you get to say something portentous and fuck off back to Heaven to let the big guy know I'm not coming except under duress." He looked defiantly into Michael's clear blue eyes.
"No need for that," Michael replied, smiling. "One question, though."
"Yeah?" Judas asked, suspicious.
"Why an electrician? Of all things?"
Judas grinned.
"Do you know how many times I get to say 'Let there be light' in the average week?"
Michael laughed, a genuine, huge, ringing laugh.
"Judas," he said, putting his hand on the saint's shoulder. "Never change."
"Not a hope," Judas replied, chuckling to himself.
"See you around," said Michael, unfurling his wings and launching himself straight up into the sky.
"Yeah," said Judas, hands on hips, staring up after him. "Yeah, you probably will."