NEW: Picard in the Garden (TNG, P/m, NC-17, 1/2)
ASCEM Noone
Tue, 12 Jan 1999 11:33:53 -0800 (PST)
From:
ASCEM Noone <ascem...@yahoo.com>
Subject:
NEW: Picard in the Garden (TNG, P/m, NC-17, 1/2)
To:
as...@earthlink.net
This is what happened: I was reading my e-mail, and I
came across a letter from Susanna Mandel, helping Greywolf with his
misperceptions about who, exactly, Arachnethe2 proposed to slash.
In the body of the letter, just as I was thinking, 'That would be just
like sex with Jesus,' Susanna wrote this: "...Whoa, it just hit me
that a sex-with-Sarek [by which I assume she meant 'SURAK'] story
would be kind of like the Vulcan equivalent to a sex-with-
Jesus story! <steam from the explosion drifts out ears>"
Then the dear sweetheart wrote, "Uh...*there's* a new holiday
tradition for you, guys. Anybody?..."
Um, yes, Susanna, that'd be me. :-) This story occurred to me as I
was sitting in front of my pc thinking 'Fuck me running, which one of
my s/heros do I pair with Jesus of all people, and what would Jesus be
like in the sack anyway? And do I pair the Jesus
Christians believe in, or the Jesus *I* believe in, and will strangers
track me down and burn my house down with me in it if I do this?
Questions galore, but meanwhile no writing was getting done, and this
idea was too good to waste. But then I thought,'Why stop with Jesus?'
So I present this modest offering with a
challenge: Write your favorite character having sex with your
favorite deity. Make up a deity if you can't think of one that
strikes your fancy or use one of the God-knows-how-many we already
have. Write Spock/Baldur, Uhura/Saraswati, Janeway/Kali,
Seven/Artemis, Kirk/Hercules, Worf/Khaless, Weyoun/Odo (oops, already
been done), or anyone/anyone who strikes your fancy. The
possibilities are endless. But enough talk. Here's my Picard/Jesus
PWP. Syrupy, and I am *way* making things up as I go along, and
Paramount probably does own all. If reading about Jesus having sex
offends you, go no further.
Title: Picard in the Garden
Author: Ascem Noone
Series: TNG
Part: 1/2
Rating: NR-ish
Codes: Picard/Jesus
Summary: Wesley gives Picard a trip back in time to Jerusalem.
Picard meets Jesus and they have sex.
Picard in the Garden
Ascem Noone
The bible, as it turned out, had been incorrect. Along with the 11
apostles there were at least several hundred other people milling
around near the garden of Gethsemane. Picard slipped among them
easily, but Jesus had already gone through the gate in the low
wall that separated the edge of town from the fields and olive groves.
If Jean-Luc was going to catch a glimpse of the messiah he would have
to wait back here with the crowd of frightened, angry, sweaty, hungry
people who were also waiting for him.
He almost didn't want to bother, but he'd been looking for Jesus all
day, pulled this way and that by the riotous exuberance of an
oppressed people who believed their liberation was at hand.
The Roman authorities had been looking for him too, but Jesus and his
followers had stayed a step ahead of them. The guards,tired of being
thwarted by his elusiveness, took out their frustration by harassing
the locals. Picard itched to tell them that their heavy-handed
repression was making matters worse, but
there was nothing he could do. This trip into the past had been
designed so that his presence would not have any effect on naturally
occurring circumstances.
Unable and unwilling to intercede, Jean-Luc spent the day wandering
through the city, soaking up the ambiance and talking to anyone who
had an opinion about what was going on. He was determined to learn
all he could from this little venture. Time travel was unusual under
any circumstances, but this unparalleled opportunity to witness one of
the turning points of Western history
was made even more extraordinary by the fact that it was actually a
final project from Wesley Crusher's studies with the Traveller.
When the boy reappeared on the Enterprise, the first thing Picard had
done was to lecture him sternly about how shamefully he'd neglected
his mother. That duty finished, however, they'd spent the next
several hours amiably discussing all the things Wesley learned in the
years since he'd been gone. Time travel, Wesley said, was especially
complex, invoking elements of multidimensionality that were initially
very difficult to master. Now that he finally had the hang of it, he
needed someone to practice on, and he'd come to ask Picard if he'd
please allow himself to be sent back in time.
Jean-Luc could see that the boy was proud of what he'd learned and
wanted to show off a little. He agreed on the condition that nothing
would change as a result of his going back.
Wesley reassured him that everything would occur exactly as it was
supposed to, so Jean-Luc obligingly selected a moment in time that
he'd always been curious about.
"You'll really like it, Sir!" Wesley had lost none of his boyish
eagerness, a trait Picard found rather touching in a being who had
recently become a master of time, space and dimension. Wesley told him
he had a twenty-four hour window, and then, without any fanfare, sent
him on his way. Jean-Luc found himself in the
middle of a riot on a hot Jerusalem morning.
To his credit, Wesley had done a very good job. Picard had several
new languages in his head--a stumbling Aramaic, a halting but passable
Koine, a respectable Latin, and a guttural speech he somehow knew was
of Gaulish origin. He recognized the denominations of the coins in
his purse, and he had a good sense for the relative values of the
things he saw for sale. Ingeniously, Wesley had provided him with
clothes that clearly marked him as a foreigner. Any mistakes he made
would be written off to the fact that he was obviously visiting from
someplace far away.
Jean-Luc spent a wonderful day talking to backwards Galileans and
sophisticated Greeks, arguing the nature of liberation and salvation,
being fondly derided as a stoic, eating the food, biting his tongue at
the goodnatured leering that occurred when a train of
slave-boys passed the cafe where he waited out the afternoon heat,and
generally acting like a vacationer out on a grand adventure.
It was, he was told on several occasions, a dangerous time to be in
Jerusalem. The very air boiled with tension. Soldiers rounded up
rioters with a splendid disregard for the concept of civil rights.
Jean-Luc, obviously foreign and hopelessly astray, had been
courteously steered away from the scuffles by apologetic natives. It
was uncanny how quickly they pegged him for an outsider. Even his
starfleet uniform would not have caused him to stand out any more than
he obviously did. He couldn't figure out what it was, besides the
color of his toga, that made him so
different, but it was as if he wore a glowing sign over his head that
identified him as a harmless newcomer.
When Jean-Luc realized everyone took him for a tourist, he wandered
the streets with confidence. He followed the angry crowds who were
looking for Jesus the Revolutionary to come help them throw off the
yoke of Roman oppression. He lost his way several times, distracted
by interesting sights and even more interesting people. It had been
fun until the sun went down and the serious rioting started. The
soldiers began to crack heads in earnest. The crowds, believing that
liberation was imminent, fought back with more daring. Jean-Luc
itched to find Pontius Pilate and have a nice Starship Captain to
Governor chat about the benefits of a hands-on leadership approach,
but it was obviously too late to make a difference now.
He couldn't help but deplore the chaos that made victims out of all
the nice people of Jerusalem, and after sunset he wandered
disconsolately through the dark streets, picking his way through the
occasional surges of violence until sheer coincidence brought
him to a small, animated gathering. They rounded on him defensively,
but Wesley's enchantment worked its magic and they relaxed as soon as
they got a good look at him.
"What is it?" He asked. "What's happening?"
By now he was able to pick out the different elements of Jerusalem
society. Some of them, with cheap-looking weapons in their hands,
were obviously members of some sort of citizen's militia; some of them
looked like young rowdies out for a good fight; some looked like
beggars. All of them wore expressions that were frustrated and
expectant at once.
"What's happening?" He asked again.
One man gestured at the gate. "The master is outside," he finally
said.
That meant nothing to Picard until he realized that his
informant was probably talking about Jesus. He felt a chill as the
entire situation began to fall into place for him.
"Then this is the garden of Gethsemane?" He remembered only sketchy
details from the stories he'd read in his Human Lit. courses, but if
this was the right place, and Jesus was out there praying, he would
eventually come back in, and Picard would finally get a chance to see
him.
Jean-Luc settled down to wait with the others. When an hour went by
with no sign of him, however, the crowd began to grumble. Whatever
miracle they'd hoped for was not proceeding as planned. There had been
no revolutionary rhetoric for the young toughs, and
no miraculous proliferation of loaves and fishes for the hungry poor.
Disappointed and sullen, people began to drift away. Soon, very few
were left except for a handful of diehard true believers. Jean-Luc
looked into their bitter, despairing faces. He wondered which ones
might be Peter, Andrew, James... He still felt very
excited, but he was apparently the only one. The faithful few were
beginning to look more frightened and uncertain. They kept sending
nervous glances towards the garden gate, and finally one of them
opened it, but no one dared go through.
Jean-Luc's instincts went on full alert. Something felt very wrong
here. These people were supposed to be Jesus' disciples, and his
closest friends. Why weren't they concerned enough to go out and ask
him how things were going?
But then, he thought, they were probably more truly followers than
equals. Perhaps they felt they didn't have the right to disturb him.
'Jesus is all alone,' he thought with a pang of empathy.
Jean-Luc understood what it was like to yearn for comfort even when no
one dared offer it. He wished he could explain to the apostles that
just going out and sitting with him in silence would probably help a
lot.
But it was not his place to tell these men how they should behave. He
watched and waited, but none of them stirred.Eventually Jean-Luc
simply grew impatient. Were they simply standing on ceremony? Didn't
any of them realize that Jesus needed them? At one point he noticed
some muted stirring, and he hoped they'd girded themselves to go out
and find him, but still nobody
went through the gate.
Jean-Luc squinted into the darkness. Unbelievable! They were
actually settling down against the wall to sleep, just like the story
said they would.
'Some friends you turned out to be,' he accused silently. Exasperation
yanked him to his feet, and he carefully stretched his cramped legs,
then picked his way past the sleeping assembly. No one objected.
They hadn't even bothered to post a guard, and the strategic thinker
in him was outraged at their sloppiness.
'These men are amateurs,' he realized. Somehow that fact annoyed him.
Once he was through the gate, there was only moonlight to illuminate
the path, but it was enough. Down in a rock-strewn field, Jean-Luc
found a single desolate figure. The man looked up, and even in the
dim light Picard could plainly distinguish teartracks on his cheeks.
Sheer compassion pulled Jean-Luc closer. Jesus' pain and bewilderment
were awful to see.
He sat down next to him. "Tell me," he coaxed.
That was all it took. Jesus leaned over, his features
cracking as he hid his face in his hands. Picard put his arms around
him and held on while the son of god wept against his shoulder.
After a good while the tears wound down and Jesus sat up to take a
look at his comforter.
"You're different," Jesus gulped. He was still sniffling,
occasionally wiping tears with the back of his hand and looking
utterly despondent.
He woke every protective instinct Picard possessed, yet
simultaneously inspired utter trust. Even in his obvious misery this
man looked so completely self-possessed that Picard knew now, why his
followers didn't think to go to him. Who would have imagined that
this person would have needs a mere mortal could
fulfill? Jean-Luc understood why they'd underestimated Jesus' sense
of vulnerability, and now he was glad he'd come searching for him.
"I'm not from around here," he answered Jesus' inquiring expression.
Throughout the day Picard covered most of his fumbles with that
apologetic explanation. It usually got him an understanding nod
because Jerusalem, in its way, was a fairly cosmopolitan town.
Jesus squinted. "You are trying to lie to me, Picard."
'Oh, shit,' Picard thought to himself. 'Now what do I do?'
Jesus' grin was utterly beguiling. "Supernatural powers have to be
good for something, don't they? Besides, you're speaking to me in
Greek, which no one ever does."
It was a mildly amusing sally, but Picard laughed too loudly, unnerved
by what he'd just discovered. It could not be possible that this was
actually a god because Jean-Luc didn't want to have to adjust his
carefully constructed world view. Surely this was
simply Wesley Crusher showing off somehow.
"So," he hesitated a long while, switching to Latin in the process.
"Is it all true?"
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