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Chapter Text

Matthew peered closely at the map in his hands. It was a sunny day, and the beams beating down made it difficult to see clearly. He walked a little distance behind the others; sensing their annoyance with him. Anyone could see the differences between him and the other apostles- they were strong, good-natured, helpful men; eager to do manual work and not caring the slightest about mud. Matthew, on the other hand, preferred more tedious tasks like writing or cleaning. And mud? Just the thought of it practically made him gag.

“That is a handy map.” A gentle, friendly voice snapped him out of his trance. Matthew’s head flew up and his heart leapt. The woman- the only woman in the entire group, who was the most kind, caring, and thoughtful one Matthew had ever seen- had just spoken to him for the first time. She had spoken in the most casual way, but to Matthew it was anything but casual.

He stammered awkwardly, his hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “Uh, yes. It is quite useful.” His heart thumped loudly.

But Mary seemed quite peaceful, strolling along, casually listening to the birds singing, her light pink head covering swaying lightly. "I remember once when I was a little girl, someone gave me a map to follow. It was a good map, but I held it upside down the entire time so. . . It did not turn out really well.” She laughed softly.

Matthew swallowed. He could tell Mary was simply making small talk; for her talking to him wasn’t anything big or exciting. This made him feel both relieved and disappointed at the same time.

“I can see why that would not work.” He stated matter-of-factly. Mary smiled. After a pause, she spoke. “How long until we reach Samaria?”

It took Matthew a moment to reply because he was too busy observing everything about Mary. Her kind eyes, gentle manner, even her slow way of speaking. Finally, he answered. “Uh, not too much longer. Just a few miles.” He cleared his throat.

“Have you ever been there before?”

Flustered, Matthew shook his head. “No. Our family never traveled much, and work is too demanding,” He caught himself and flushed. “Was”. He frowned. Why had he brought up his job as a tax collector? Mary would likely walk away, or worse, tell him how disappointed she was he would ever choose such an occupation.

But Mary didn’t seem bothered at all. “I haven’t been there either. No reason to, of course.” She chuckled. Matthew felt a corner of his mouth tick up. His observant mind raced with thoughts. Around other people, he constantly had a deep awareness of his differences and oddness. But around Mary he felt more comfortable and at ease.

Up ahead, Andrew and John began squabbling again about which road to take. Matthew scanned his map and quickly spoke. “We should stay on this road,” He spoke loudly. “The other one would trail us off.”

“I must admit, Matthew, I’m curious why Rabbi is bringing us to Samaria,” She glanced at him. “I suppose we’ll find out soon.” she added with a smile.

Matthew’s heart skipped for the tenth time that day. She knew his name? Of course she did, he chided himself. She probably heard it all the time from Simon’s bitter comments and complaints.

Mary suddenly stopped walking. “I’m sorry, that is your name, yes? I mean, that’s what Jesus said when He called you, and at the dinner party. . .” She trailed off.

Matthew wanted to kick himself. She must have taken his silence as a sign of irritation. He quickly found his voice.

“No, no, it’s my name. I’m just not used to people talking to me in such a. . . kind manner.”

Mary’s eyes softened with understanding. She began speaking cautiously. “Matthew, you are not what you once were. And sometimes, our names carry the weight of our pasts. But you’ve been given a new path.”

Matthew nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Thank you. I think I need to hear that.”

They continued walking, the silence between them now comfortable. Matthew felt a glimmer of hope growing inside him, like the first light of dawn breaking through the darkness.

Chapter Text

Matthew strained his eyes as he tried to read the parchment in the dimming sunlight. It had been an exhausting day- hauling firewood, helping Jesus prepare the notes for His sermon, and setting up camp. His mind drifted from fatigue, and he wondered what his parents were doing at that moment. His abba was probably winding the clock or sorting through his styluses. His imma would be in the kitchen, likely cooking up a delicious meal of lentil soup or seasoned bread. His stomach almost growled despite the fact he’d just eaten as he thought about the crusty bread his imma always made; spiced with cloves, nutmeg, and a hint of cayenne.

“Are you alright, Mary?”

Philip’s kind voice made Matthew look up, and he saw the reason for his friend’s concern. Mary was standing near the campfire resting her forehead in one hand and clutching a bowl in the other.

“Yes, thank you, Philip. I’m just tired, that’s all.”

She gave him a weak smile before dipping the empty bowl into a tub of soapy water and rinsing it. Matthew immediately felt a pang of guilt. All around him the others were busy with tasks- Simon, Andrew, and Zee were chopping wood, Big James and John were helping everyone with their tents, Thomas and Nathanel were measuring out food for the next day, and Thaddeus and Little James were helping the women clean up from supper. Matthew was the only one sitting idlily while everyone worked hard.

“Is Jesus back yet? He’s been gone a while.” Little James asked, looking worried.

“He’s still preparing His sermon, I think. I never realized how much work they were.” Zee admitted with a smile, wiping his sweaty brow.

“He must be hungry. I’ll bring him some soup.” Mary bent to ladle some broth into a bowl.

“I can do that, Mary,” Matthew shyly stepped up. “You’ve worked very hard today.” He added.

Mary smiled. “Thank you, Matthew, but I would appreciate the exercise. I haven’t had a lot of time lately to process everything going on. It would be enjoyable.”

Matthew swallowed awkwardly. “Then- may I come with you?”

Mary looked at him in surprise.

“Er- it’s getting dark, and I thought you could use some protection. But I understand if you want to be alone.”

Mary smiled. “I would love if you came! Just give me a moment.”

Matthew’s heart skipped a beat, and he ducked his head bashfully. He watched Mary pour a generous serving of soup into a bowl, carefully cover it with a clean cloth, and tie it with a string. “Alright,” She smiled at him. “Shall we go?”

Matthew’s throat was too dry to speak. He simply nodded and began to lead the way.

Matthew and Mary walked side by side in the dimming light. The path was quiet except for the occasional rustle of leaves. Mary finally broke the silence.

“You know, Matthew, I just wanted to thank you. It has been really helpful having you here. I can tell Jesus really appreciates someone who can assist in preparing the sermon.”

Matthew’s cheeks reddened with the compliment. “R-really? I-I mean, thank you. I’m surprised to hear you say that, because. . . I feel like I’ve been lazy today.”

“What?” Mary stopped walking and looked at him. “Matthew, how can you say that? You’ve been doing more than any of us!” She was shocked.

Matthew stuttered. “I- well, I don’t know, I just sometimes feel useless. The others are very helpful when it comes to manual work. I am not.” He said regretfully, looking away.

Mary bit her lip and hesitated. “I probably shouldn’t be saying this, but-” She paused to chuckle lightly, “the men have been arguing every morning why Jesus chose you to be His scribe and help with the sermon. Their envy is undeniable.” Mary was still shocked Matthew felt this way. If anything, she expected him to be proud and boastful of his special position.

“They have?” Matthew was surprised.

Mary nodded. “Again, I probably shouldn’t have said that; I don’t like tattling. . . But you deserve to know,” She smiled at him. “I think you are anything but lazy.”

Matthew exhaled and couldn’t prevent a smile from creeping onto his face. “Uh- thank you, Mary, that’s very kind of you.” His mind was racing.

“There’s Jesus, I think,” Mary pointed to a figure up ahead. She turned to look at Matthew again. “Thank you for coming with me, I really appreciate it.”

Matthew smiled. “Of course.”

Chapter Text

Mary Magdalene strolled down the busy streets of Capernaum, enjoying the crisp morning air and sunshine on her back. The past few days had been hurtful and tough, and she was looking forward to some time alone to shop and get the ingredients they needed at the market.

Mary tucked the basket in her hands under one arm and bit her lip as she walked slowly, her face in a deep frown as she thought about Tamar. She had always been headstrong, but lately she had been especially bossy and curt. Although Mary had a tough exterior, her heart was still tender, and Tamar’s bitter comments hurt.

“Mary?”

Mary stopped and looked up. Matthew and Zee stood in front of her, both with a burlap sack in tow.

“Matthew, Zee, shalom!” Mary beamed. Although it had only been a couple months, it felt like an eternity since she last saw them.

“Good to see you,” Zee gave her a brief smile and a quick nod. “We just got back from Jericho. We’re heading over to Simon’s to ask him about something. I’m sure we’ll see you later.” He gave another nod and walked off.

But Matthew remained where he was, looking rather timidly at the ground. “It’s good to see you, Mary.” He finally spoke, smiling a little.

“You too, Matthew. I’m really eager to hear about what happened in Jericho. You’ll have to tell me later.” Mary forced a smile for Matthew’s sake. She could tell he was truly happy to see her again, and she couldn’t deny the fact she felt the same way.

After an awkward pause, Mary spoke. “Well, I’d better be getting to the market. It’ll be getting busy soon.” She started to walk away.

“Uh- Mary?”

Mary turned around. “Yes?”

Matthew ducked his head. “Well, um, forgive me for being pushy, but. . . You seem upset. Is something wrong?”

Mary frowned. Out of all her friends, Matthew was the one she trusted the most, besides Little James and Thaddeus, who she’d known the longest. She knew he would understand the way she felt, but she still felt ashamed saying it.

She hesitated. “Well, I-” Matthew listened intently with a concerned expression on his face.

“It’s nothing, really. I’ve just been having some problems-” Mary chose her words wisely- “With Tamar. I guess you could say our friendship is a little shaky right now.”

Matthew looked concerned. “Tamar can be very straightforward,” He stated matter-of-factly, lifting his pointer finger. “Did she hurt you?”

Mary let out a little laugh.
“Well, not physically, but. . . Yes, she has hurt my feelings. She was being rather insensitive about my past. Actually, all my feelings are mixed up right now. For more reasons than one.” she added with a frown.

Mary saw a brief look of anger flicker over Matthew’s face.

“She should not have done that. You don’t deserve to be spoken to that way.” Matthew said.

Mary bit her lip to prevent herself from smiling. Matthew’s attentiveness towards her was hard to ignore.

“I’m sorry that happened to you, Mary. Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked curiously.

“No, thank you, Matthew. I think I just need some time to cool off.” she nodded.

“I understand,” He swallowed and fidgeted with the sack in his hands. “Well, I better go find Zee. I will see you later.” He smiled at her.

“Alright. Thank you for listening, Matthew. It really helped.” Mary smiled. “I’ll see you soon, Matthew. Shalom shalom.” She waved.

“Shalom shalom, Mary.” Matthew seemed a little dazed. He walked off.

Mary continued to the market, feeling a little better about Tamar. After all, no matter what happened, Matthew would always be there to support her.

Chapter Text

Mary tossed and turned. She had no idea what time it was, but she figured it was close to dawn. Her long damp hair clung unpleasantly to her neck, like a wet blanket threatening to smother her.

The words Jesus had recently spoken to her echoed in her head. Because you’ve been listening. Listening? Of course she had been. How could she ignore His words?

And now Lazarus was dead, and they were departing that morning for Bethany to sit shiva with Mary, Martha, and Jesus’s imma. And Little James- how much he was limping! Big James was bruised on the forehead. And Jesus? Mary hardly recognized this side of Him. It was like a candle that once burned so brightly was starting to flicker and dim.

Mary’s heart ached for the entire group when Matthew flashed into her head. In her own distress she had completely forgotten about him. She briefly remembered him standing near the table, shivering uncontrollably, his curls matted to his head. She could recall the fear in his eyes and the way he fidgeted uncertainly.

“I must talk to him,” She muttered to herself, then froze. Tamar was only a few feet away in a different bed. Thankfully, she barely even stirred and kept on snoring.

As soon as the first beams of light peaked through the window, Mary got up, made the bed, and splashed some water on her face from the bowl near the window. As she did, she saw Zee in the courtyard, heading towards the nearby forest with a knife.

She examined her blue dress and light pink veil she had worn the day before. The dress was still covered in mud and the veil was badly torn. She balled them up and stuffed them in her bag, pulling out the maroon dress Tamar had just gifted her and the coral-colored veil she had made. Mary brushed her hair, pinned on her veil and grabbed her bag, then slid on her sandals and quietly walked downstairs.

Thaddeus was standing near the fire warming his hands. “Mary,” He nodded without smiling.

“Where is everyone?” she asked quietly.

“Some are outside. A couple are still upstairs helping Big James.”

“What about Matthew?”

Thaddeus frowned in thought for a moment. “I’m not sure. Actually, I haven’t seen him yet today. Maybe he’s still getting ready?”

“Hm,” Mary gave a nod. “You’re probably right. Shalom.” She walked outside, deciding to wait there.

Who knew what would happen later? Mary’s heart raced and she could feel something off in the air. She heard a noise to her left and turned to see what it was.

Much to her surprise, she saw Matthew sitting on a stone near the entrance of the courtyard, obviously trying to stay hidden. He was scribbling away in one of his tablets, a deep frown on his face.

Mary debated whether to approach him or not, but she heard Nathanael inside yelling at everyone. “We’re leaving in fifteen minutes, guys! Get a leg up!” It was now or never.

She quietly walked up to him and his head snapped up. “Oh. Mary.” He looked away.

She swallowed and sat next to him, unsure of how to begin. She heard herself begin to speak.

“I can’t believe all of this is happening,” she said sadly.

“Hm.” Matthew swallowed and seemed to hesitate, then continued writing.

Mary frowned. Normally Matthew was always honest with her and supportive. Something had to be wrong.

“Matthew”, she said softly, “what’s the matter? I mean, besides the obvious. What is bothering you?”

Matthew wiped his nose and shook his head. “Nothing. You shouldn’t be bothered by these things. I’m sure you have plenty of your own things to be concerned about.” He turned away.

Mary felt her heart ache for her friend. “Matthew, I don’t feel that way. I always want to hear your thoughts, just as you listen to mine.” This made him stop writing.

She continued. “You have always been so supportive of me. When I was sick and left the group two years ago, you and Peter came to find me, and you brought me back. I wouldn’t have without you. I want to help you.”

He looked at her with his eyes full of unshed tears. “Are you sure, Mary? I don’t want to be tiresome to you.”

“Please, Matthew,” she whispered, her own eyes filling with tears.

He sighed. How he hated to see Mary in pain like this!

“I just...” He began quietly. “I feel like I am not ready. For all of this. Jesus might have called me, but all I have been doing is listening and writing things down. The others have been practicing the Jewish faith all their lives! They know Torah, they can recite scripture... I feel like I’m not worthy to be here. I am scared.” By now, Matthew had grabbed his handkerchief and was twisting it around in his hands anxiously, his dark eyes darting around.

“Oh, Matthew,” Mary said. She shook her head and sighed, looking at him, her eyes teary and emotional. She wanted to reassure him- smile supportively and share an encouraging story of how something like this happened to her before and all turned out well- but this time she was at a loss for words. There was only one thing she could say, and she feared it wouldn’t help at all. But she said it anyway.

“I’m scared too.”

Matthew looked at her and they stared into each other’s eyes for a few moments. Mary could sense his feelings- he wanted to help. He wanted to be ready. The problem was, he didn’t know what to be ready for.

Matthew could detect Mary’s heart aching and strong demeanor weakening. He had to do something.

“Jesus knows what is going to happen,” He told her, his voice cracking. “Everything will be alright.”

Mary nodded quickly, trying to blink back her tears. “I know, Matthew, I know. Sometimes you just have to. . .” She hesitated. “Be scared.”

Matthew nodded slowly, processing her words.

Zee walked by just then, bearing two sturdy looking walking sticks. Matthew and Mary looked at each other.

“For the Jameses,” They said at the exact same time. Mary smiled, and Matthew looked away with a shy chuckle.

“Are you all packed?” She asked, standing up. He nodded.

“Me too. We had better go find the others.”

“I was worried about you,” Mary confided in him as they walked back to the inn. “I realized I hadn’t talked to you at all, and I should have. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, Mary. It was a long day.” he said tiredly, glancing at her.

“But maybe today will not be,” She said, watching everyone pour outside ready to depart. “We’ll either sit shiva or we won’t.”

Chapter Text

Mary couldn’t deny she was a little frustrated- but amused at the same time. Earlier that morning, Ramah was finally getting the hang of reading without pausing. They had sat pleasantly in their tent together, with Ramah reading away confidently, when Thomas swept by; all smiles and awkward giggles, inviting Ramah on a walk. Of course she accepted, and somehow or another Mary was asked to chaperone. Matthew, having nothing else to do, was sent as well.

Now they walked, about twenty feet or so, behind the aforesaid pair, keeping an eye on them, although Mary noticed that Matthew seemed to have his eyes on other things.

“Remember how Jesus was talking about sheep last night? He really seems fascinated with them.” Mary remembered.

“That and shepherds,” Matthew added.

“Right.” Mary gave a nod and smiled. A bird screeched overhead, causing her to look up and notice the fluffy white clouds against the vibrant blue sky.

“It is so beautiful out here,” Mary remarked. “Makes me want to stay out here all day.” She chuckled.

“It really is,” Matthew agreed. He looked over at her curiously. “I’ve noticed you have a keen eye for beauty, Mary. Whether it’s in people or places.” he remarked sincerely, giving her a smile.

Mary was surprised but pleased. “Thank you, Matthew,” she spoke. “After spending so many years in dark, ugly places I can’t help but notice the true beauty of the world,” She said thoughtfully. “As for people, everyone has a past. But everyone also has a future.” She glanced at him with a small smile.

“That is true.” He nodded.

Thomas and Ramah went off the road and sat on a grassy patch of land, chatting all the while. Matthew and Mary followed suit, although Matthew was a little concerned about getting his tunic dirty. But of course, he said nothing, not wanting Mary to find him annoying.

“Do you think they’ll get married?” Matthew said out of the blue.

“Who, Thomas and Ramah? I mean, it wouldn’t surprise me. They clearly enjoy spending time together,” Mary smiled. “Maybe you could ask him about it.” she said playfully.

“I don’t know about that,” Matthew frowned. “Thomas doesn’t seem to enjoy my company very much. Because I was a tax collector.”

Mary felt bad for reminding Matthew of his past. She bit her lip in thought, then smiled.

“Did I tell you I can juggle?” She changed the topic quickly. Matthew looked at her curiously with his head tilted.

“I didn’t even know I could, until yesterday I went to the market for fruit. I forgot a basket, so I just carried it all home and when some of it started to slip, I started juggling!” Mary laughed, and much to her joy, Matthew did as well. He even had a mischievous glint in his eye.

“You know, Mary, the trick is buying fruit in pairs. That way, you can always say you have a balanced diet.”

Mary stared at him for a moment. Then she started laughing. “Matthew, was that a joke?”

Matthew ducked his head and shrugged. “Maybe.” He couldn’t prevent a little smile.

Mary couldn’t stop laughing. She had never seen this side of Matthew before.

But he was just getting started. “I have a joke about vegetables, but it’s corny.” He still didn’t entirely get the joke Philip shared with him, but he liked seeing Mary laugh.

Mary just kept laughing and shook her head, causing Matthew to beam. Maybe this joke thing wasn’t so hard after all!

He glanced in the opposite direction, still chuckling, just as Thomas reached over and took Ramah’s hand.

“Thomas! Ramah! I do not think Rabbi would find that appropriate!” He called warningly. Mary quickly looked over as Thomas snatched back his hand sheepishly.

“Oh dear,” Mary chuckled. “I forgot we were supposed to be watching them.”

“They can be a handful sometimes,” Matthew said matter-of-factly. Mary tried not to smile, instead plucking a blade of grass and twirling it around in her fingers.

Thomas and Ramah suddenly stood up and started walking down the road. Matthew sprang up and shook his head.

“There they go again,” He said, as if they were two rambunctious toddlers. He shyly offered Mary his hand to help her and she took it, standing up.

She brushed off her tunic and smiled. “We’d better catch up with them.” They started walking briskly after them.

Maybe the reading lesson had ended abruptly, but it had definitely been worth it to see the other side of Matthew.

Chapter Text

Matthew stood quietly, sniffling up the last of his tears. He anxiously groped through his parchment sheets, making sure each was still intact before sliding them cautiously into his bag for safekeeping.

His mind raced as he looked around him, the land busy and bustling. The hundreds of people that had come for the sermon were slowly starting to disperse, but behind the curtains of the structure Nathanael had made, it was hopping.

The apostles, joking and lighthearted now that the stress of preparing for the sermon was over, laughed and jostled among themselves. Simon stood with his precious Eden, cackling about something with Andrew, while Thaddeus and Little James simply stood and watched everything with joyful smiles on their faces.

Matthew caught sight of Mary, standing with the other women. As had become his custom, he began to observe her in his meticulous manner. She looks tired, he thought. Then he noticed an extravagantly dressed woman talking with Mary, and he compared the two. Mary, in her simple tunic and veil, was the most beautiful woman who had ever lived, in Matthew’s eyes. While the other woman was adorned in jewelry and dressed finely, she didn’t hold a candle to Mary’s radiant beauty. Matthew blushed at his own thoughts and stood alone awkwardly.

“Shalom, Matthew.” Mary stood in front of him.

“Mary.” He looked up, letting out a relieved breath. After the sermon, his thoughts were all tangled up. This rarely occurred, and when it did, it scared him.

“What did you think of the sermon?” It didn’t even take an observer as keen as Matthew to see that Mary was exhausted. Yet here she was, making a point to talk with him.

“Well, I, uh. . .” Matthew stammered. He swallowed and fiddled around with his ever-present handkerchief.

Mary just watched with a smile. She watched him duck his head a few times and struggle with his words. Finally he seemed to compose himself.

“Though it may seem strange, I feel like this was my first time hearing the sermon, despite the fact I’ve been helping Jesus prepare for several weeks. Jesus’s imma said it was because although I wrote them down, hearing Him actually say the words is completely different.”

Mary nodded slowly, pursing her lips in thought. "It’s a testament to His teachings, Matthew," she said gently. "The words are living and powerful, more than just ink on parchment. They touch our hearts in ways we can’t always predict. I'm glad you felt their impact today."

Matthew looked at her, admiring her wisdom. “I guess that is why Rabbi says, ‘Heaven and earth will pass away, but My words will never pass away.’"

Mary smiled. “No matter what He says- even if it doesn’t pertain to me- they always make me cry,” She laughed. “I think it’s just knowing Who’s saying the words is what makes it special.” She said, yawning.

“Who was that woman over there?” Matthew asked curiously. He couldn’t recall ever seeing someone dressed so regally before, even as a tax collector.

“Oh,” Mary frowned, turning to look at the woman, who was now conversing with Andrew again. “Um, her name was Joanna, I believe. She said she’s spoken with John.”

Matthew didn’t understand why, but he could tell Mary was bothered by this Joanna. He tried changing the topic. “I’m eager to hear your thoughts about the sermon, Mary. Did you have a favorite line?”

“Oh, umm,” She hesitated. “Good question. “I, uh, I really liked what Rabbi said about the birds of the air,” She smiled at Matthew. “They neither sow nor reap, nor gather into barns, yet-” They finished together- “Your Heavenly Father feeds them.”

Mary nodded “Yes,” Her eyes filled with tears, and she quietly spoke. “Are you not of more value than they?” She recited. “It helps me remember that God has always taken care of me. Even when I was possessed, homeless, and all alone, He was beside me. I know He was.”

Matthew nodded, feeling for his friend.

Mary looked around for Ramah and Tamar. “Oh, they seem to be waiting for me,” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon, Matthew.” Mary spoke, turning to leave.

Matthew nodded, but inside he was already aching. How was he supposed to go and face his parents- even more, his own father, who had renounced him right in the streets for all in Capernaum to see? Without Mary’s comforting presence, his confidence wavered.

Mary suddenly stopped and whirled around, a smirk on her face. “Soon,” she said, chuckling. “We don’t know when soon is, but I hope it’s in the near future. . . This time.” She walked away.

This time? Did Mary mean she wanted to see him soon? Matthew took a deep breath, feeling a small flicker of hope amidst his turmoil. Maybe “soon” wasn’t so far away after all.

Chapter Text

Matthew felt useless.

He always had, but lately, this unexplainable feeling was growing worse. At times when someone spoke to him, or asked a favor of him, or sent him on an errand, he felt a little better.

Matthew always felt he was too awkward and too uncomfortable to be of help to anyone. He was overly focused and precise; therefore he felt utterly flattered when someone asked something of him.

Right now, Thomas needed his help more than ever. Not with a headcount. Not with calculating the odds. Not even getting some water from the well.

Thomas needed comfort.

Ramah was gone- not even gone, but dead. Not peacefully but murdered. Killed. Slaughtered. And by a Roman.

Matthew had never seen such a lost, hopeless, furious look in someone’s eyes before. Thomas stormed around looking like he wanted to crush everything and let someone else struggle with grief for a while. John and Peter were the best at comforting him, Little James occasionally.

One dreadful afternoon, Matthew had been alone with Thomas at Andrew’s flat, sorting through some old tunics and figuring out which ones needed to be mended, when Thomas had started sniffling. Extremely uncomfortable, Matthew tried to ignore it. Then his friend started to spill tears. Then sob.

Matthew had swallowed and stepped closer. “T-Thomas, it’ll be alright. It will.” He awkwardly placed his hand on Thomas’s shoulders.

Thomas had screamed at him. “No it won’t!” He lashed, slapping Matthew’s hand away with a stinging blow. “It’ll never get better. It’s getting worse!” He had sobbed angrily, storming out. Matthew’s own eyes had stung, along with his hand.

Thomas had never apologized, and Matthew didn’t expect him to. But with every passing day, even as Thomas started sleeping better and eating little bits of food, Matthew still felt terrible. He felt like a decoration on a tunic- something that was there, but not essential for the item to be what it was- a tunic. He felt like a little brother or pesky dog, tagging along with the apostles but not having any purpose.

Peter, Zee, Big James, even Andrew- they were Jesus’s protecters. Judas kept the purse. Philip, Nathanel, John, Thomas- they were the planners. Thaddeus and Little James, well, they were just moral support, but the group would not be possible without them. Even the women had a job- helping Zebedee with the olive grove. Sure, Matthew wrote things down. He recorded Jesus’s sermons. But John was doing that too. Mostly, Matthew felt unneeded.

What would the group do without Peter? Without a leader, they would crumble. And they would certainly all be dead by now if it weren’t for Zee’s strength. And Philip: he kept everyone going and positive. He made people feel good about themselves, even if they shouldn’t.

But if Matthew wasn’t there- if anything, the group would be better off without him.

Burdened with these heavy thoughts, Matthew began drawing inward again rather than share his thoughts with others as he had started to do. When the group had meetings that they weren’t required to attend- for instance, an informal lunch at Peter and Eden’s- he stayed back and avoided them if he could.

To put it simply, Matthew felt unworthy.

His actions didn’t go unnoticed by Mary Magdalene. She was the first to notice his sudden absence at gatherings and her heart ached at his inwardness.

Not to mention her heart was still broken from Ramah’s sudden death. Besides Tamar, Ramah had the only woman in the group, and Mary’s closest confidant. And to die in such a tragical way- not an illness or natural passing but stabbed by Quintus for all to see.

Mary found herself at Eden’s one day, chatting together about this and that. “I think I’ll make us some tea,” Eden offered with a smile. “I just need to get some water.”

“I’ll do that,” Mary stood up and grabbed her satchel. “You go ahead and rest.”

“Oh, Mary,” Eden smiled and shook her head. “It’s no bother.”

“If it’s no bother, then you shouldn’t mind me doing it.” Mary replied teasingly. Eden laughed and went to the counter. “I’ll get the tea leaves ready, then.”

“Alright.” Mary picked up a pitcher and set out the door. The well was just a short distance from the house, and she arrived in no time, her thoughts carrying her along.

Mary dropped the bucket into the well and waited for it to fill, then drew it up and filled Eden’s pitcher with the fresh water.

“Oh.”

Mary looked up and saw Matthew trying to walk past her quickly.

“Matthew?” Her brow furrowed in confusion.

“Mary, hello.” Matthew didn’t even look at her.

“I- wait, what are you doing?” She didn’t understand his strange behavior.

“I am walking back to my parents' house from the market. Should that concern you?”

Mary took a step back and frowned. Matthew was always so gentle and kind to her; something must be seriously wrong.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean ‘where are you going’, I just mean. . . why-” Mary hesitated and gestured with her hand.

“Why what?” For the first time, Matthew looked at her. He immediately noticed her hair was back in a long braid rather than splayed out as usual.

“You seem concerned about something.” Mary said genuinely, fiddling anxiously with the pitcher in her hands.

Matthew sighed. “There has just been a lot going on lately, is all.”

Mary nodded. “I couldn’t agree with you more,” She looked off in the distance absentmindedly. “Would you like to sit down and talk?”

“A-alright. I suppose that would be enjoyable.” Matthew sat next to her on a crude-looking wooden bench near the well.

“How have you been coping with everything? I feel like we haven’t spoken forever.”

“I’m sorry, Mary. I have just been busy with some things.” This wasn’t exactly a lie. Matthew had been busy trying to sort out his feelings.

“Peter and Eden had a really nice dinner the other night. I was disappointed not to see you there.”

“Oh.”

A silence filled the air. Matthew squirmed uncomfortably. Even Mary’s presence wasn’t comforting as it used to be, instead he felt unwanted and silly sitting there when he had purposely been avoiding everyone.

A quiet sob made his head snap up. Tears were running down Mary’s face.

“M-Mary? Is something wrong?” He stammered shyly.

“Ramah. . .” Was all she could manage before breaking down. She covered her face in her hands and wept.

Now he felt even more antsy. Should he embrace her? Walk away? Make up an excuse to leave?

Mary looked up again and sniffled, wiping away her tears. “I’m sorry, I just couldn’t help it. It’s just so hard.”

He nodded slowly.

“Speaking of things being wrong, I feel like you’re not yourself, Matthew. Is everything alright with your parents?”

“Oh, yes,” He said somewhat awkwardly. “I’ve just been. . . thinking.”

“About what?” She pried gently.

“Uh- myself, I suppose. It sounds foolish, but the more I think about it, the more I realize my talents- if you would call them that- are not beneficial to the group. I feel like I shouldn’t be here.”

Mary couldn’t help herself. Instead of consoling him and telling him it wasn’t true, she blurted out a question. “Matthew, you’re not leaving, are you?!” She cried. It wasn’t like her to speak that way, but she couldn’t prevent it.

“No!” He said back, shaking his head. Even with all his problems, he would never dream of actually leaving, even if it seemed the others wanted him to sometimes.

“Oh, good,” She blushed a little. “Sorry, I was just, um, concerned.”

Matthew was secretly pleased.

“I have a feeling why you feel this way,” she continued. “The others are handy. They can chop wood, comfort the mourners, and are helpful.”

It was like she was reading his mind.

“Yes.” He whispered hoarsely.

“We’ve talked about this before, Matthew,” she said softly. “Maybe you cannot always protect Jesus, or plow a field, or fish, but you can write. You are smart. If it hadn't been for you, Jesus’s sermons would not be possible.”

“John could help him,” Matthew stated.

“John isn’t as organized as you. He plans for the present moment, you plan ahead. You go over things that may or may not happen. You understand suffering, and misunderstanding. The others do not.”

“Huh.” Matthew began to wonder if Mary could be right.

“I know these aren’t easy right now. You know Thomas is inconsolable, Jesus is troubled, everyone is squabbling. . .”

“Yes.” He agreed.

“But they will get better. Eventually, anyway.” She smiled at him.

And he smiled back.

“I must ask. What is the water for? It’s a lot for one person.”

“Eden asked for it. We were weeding her garden this morning and thought some tea would be pleasant.”

That must be why her hair was braided, he thought to himself.

“Oh. Well, give her my greetings.”

“I will. And Matthew, remember what I said before: everyone makes mistakes sometimes. You’re doing a wonderful job.”

He nodded, encouraged. “Thank you, Mary.”

“Of course. It was really good seeing you.”

“Shalom shalom.”

Chapter Text

Matthew was busy sorting through a stack of parchments in the Mission House, also known as his former mansion. Strangely enough, now that Tamar and Mary lived there, he felt more like an intruding guest than a host. Although most of the exquisite, fancy furniture remained, the house had a peaceful and simple atmosphere instead of the empty, gloomy air it used to possess.

He could hear some of the others outside arguing, which was no surprise. After being together for so long, Matthew would have expected the men to have run out of things to debate about. But no, every day it seemed like a new squabble erupted.

“We need to keep it down,” Matthew overheard John speaking. “Thomas is going to be here any moment. I just think James’s idea is better than yours, Nathanael.”

“Could we just quit arguing?” The latter spat. “You’re the one causing all the ruckus.”

Matthew suddenly saw a flash of fabric from the corner of his eye. Mary had come in without him even noticing.

“Shalom, Mary.” He said, looking up.

“Oh, Matthew!” Mary looked startled. “Sorry, I didn’t even see you there.” She was poring over a small piece of parchment with a troubled expression on her face.

“Are you well?” Matthew asked, concern etched on his face. “If you’re having trouble reading that parchment, I can assist you.”

“What?” Mary looked up. “Oh, it’s not that. This is a message from my old friend Rivka. Apparently, she is really sick.”

Matthew tilted his head. “I’m sorry to hear that. Do you have to go to her?”

A look of fear flashed in Mary’s eyes. “Uh, I don’t. . . really know. I mean, I suppose, I just-”

He was confused by her stuttering.

“I’m sorry Matthew, I think I must speak with Tamar about this. . .”

“I understand, Mary. But I am here to listen if you need.” He said somewhat awkwardly, though he was sincere.

Mary hesitated. It would be more appropriate to speak with a woman about this, but Tamar could tend to be insensitive about Mary’s past. “To put it simply. . . Well, you see, Rivka lives in the Red Quarter, and-”

Matthew understood immediately. The Red Quarter was where Mary had lived, then disguised as Lilith. Going back would certainly surface old and unwanted memories.

“I don’t think I’m strong enough to return there,” Mary said softly. “But Rivka has no other friends, and she needs someone to help her.”

Matthew himself was afraid of the Red Quarter. He had heard stories of the evil things that happened there. His heart broke at the mere thought of the years Mary spent there alone, lonely and unprotected.

‘If I ascend to Heaven, you are there. If I make my bed in the depths, you are there.’ Matthew thought. He took a deep breath.

“W-well, I could come with you.” Matthew spoke.

Mary looked at him with concern. “Matthew, I’m sorry, but I couldn’t- you don’t deserve that.” She shook her head.

“I am willing.”

Mary bit her lip in thought, then opened her satchel and started searching for some dried herbs.

John burst in abruptly. “There you two are,” He spoke. “Everyone else is ready.”

Matthew was confused. “Ready for what?”

“We’re going to all go for a walk with Thomas and- Mary, why are you packing your bags with herbs?”

“I’m going to visit my friend Rivka,” Mary didn’t stop to look at John, instead finding some clean linen cloths and stuffing them in her bag.

“You’re- what? What do you mean?! We’re walking today with Thomas! He said he’s ready to sit on the dock where he proposed to Ramah. We have to support him.”

“I hold no argument with you, John, but my friend is sick and needs care.” Mary replied.

“Look. Your friend can wait, Thomas cannot! Ramah was one of your closest friends. And you’re acting like you don’t even care!” John snapped.

Mary stared at him sadly for a moment before leaving the room.

John let out an exasperated sigh and let his hands fall to his sides. Matthew frowned and stood up.

“Mary needs to go care for her friend. She’s very ill. Did that occur to you?” He cocked his head.

“She acts like she doesn’t even care about Thomas! I’m worried to death about him.” John exclaimed, his hazel eyes flashing.

“All of us are,” Matthew replied calmly. “You can care for more than one person at once, John. Mary needs to see her friend.” He grabbed his bag and walked out.

He found Mary outside behind the house. Her eyes were red, but she gripped her bag tightly in anticipation. “Should we go?” she asked quietly.

Matthew nodded. “Yes.”

They started walking down the street until the former Zealot spotted them.

“Wait!”

Matthew and Mary spun around.

“Where are you both going?”

“Long story,” Mary replied shortly. “My friend from the Red Quarter is sick. I’m going to help her. Matthew is assisting me.”

Zee dropped the basket he was mending. “Okay, let’s go.”

“I- I’m sorry? I am going to help her, Zee. While we appreciate your gesture, I-”

“Matthew, be quiet.” Zee said amicably.

Matthew looked hurt.

“He’s right, Matthew,” Mary said quietly. “While I am grateful you’re coming along, Zee will be able to protect us better.”

Matthew couldn’t deny that. All he knew how to do was jab someone in the eye with his stylus, and he wasn’t sure how that could protect Mary.

He could sense Mary’s fear as they approached the evil-looking part of town. Immediately he felt a heavy sense of darkness and fear.

“Perhaps we should have asked Rabbi before we came here,” Matthew stuttered.

“Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called sons of God,” Zee recited solemnly. “We’ll be fine.”

But fine doesn’t necessarily mean alive, Matthew thought. He looked at Mary. Her head was down, and she was trembling.

Zee held up a hand. “Let me walk ahead of you two. Mary, you said she lived just up ahead?”

Mary nodded, swallowing.

They continued their way down the dark alley. Women in rags with tangled, unruly hair lingered in doorways, shrinking back in fear at sight of Zee.

Men with dark expressions were everywhere, and Matthew noticed one staring at Mary for a long time, then stepped forward threateningly after Zee had passed.

Mary grabbed Matthew’s hand in fear. He jumped, unaccustomed to being touched, but he wouldn’t have pulled it away for the world. Her hand was ice cold and shaking.

“Here we are,” Zee announced a few minutes later. “I’ll wait here outside. Call if you need me. I’ll do the same.”

As if Zee would ever need their help, Matthew thought.

Mary let go of Matthew’s hand and knocked on the rotting wooden door.

A moment later, a young woman answered. “What do you want?”

Mary stepped forward. “Uh, I am a friend of Rivka. My name is Mary, and-”

“She talks about you all the time. Come in.”

The unknown woman led Matthew and Mary down a dark hallway and stopped at a door. “Go right in.” She disappeared.

“Alright,” Mary quickly knocked and opened the door. The curtains in the room were pulled, but some light still came in through the window.

“Mary!” Rivka called from her bed. She struggled to sit up, and Mary rushed to her side. “Rivka!” She embraced her.

“What has happened? When did you start feeling ill?”

Rivka frowned. “It was the day that Jesus gave that sermon, and that lovely young woman was-” she trailed off. “It just scarred my soul, seeing that. I forgot to dry my hair one day, and I caught an awful chill.” She paused to cough. “And this nasty cough.”

“I brought you some herbs to make a tea,” Mary opened her satchel. “And, uh, Matthew is here as well.” Mary turned and squinted to see if he was still cowering in the doorway.

“Oh! That handsome tax collector! I’ve got my head uncovered!” Rivka grabbed a sheet and pulled it over her hair.

“Well, he’s not a tax collector anymore,” Mary corrected with a smile.

“Come in, Matthew!” Rivka exclaimed. He nervously stepped forward into the dim light. “Oh! You’ve got a beard now!”

Mary laughed quietly, and Matthew couldn’t prevent a small smile.

“Here,” Mary handed her friend a cup of tea. “This will help with your chills. As for the cough, it’s pretty dry in here. I think closing the window will help.” Mary rose and went to the window, looking down into the street.

“Ugh,” She looked disgusted, closing the shutter. “The things people do out there is horrible.”

Matthew stepped forward to see, but Mary placed her hand on his arm to stop him. “You don’t want to look, Matthew.” she told him quietly.

“It’s an awful place to live, I know. Believe it or not, I was thinking about leaving this place, maybe moving to the Tent City. But then this awful sickness came, and I was laid up.”

“I cannot recommend moving to the Tent City. It had caused a lot of unexpected chaos.” Matthew stated matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, but better then living here.”

Mary shuddered from her seat. “I don’t know how I did it.”

Rivka smiled sympathetically and placed a hand on Mary’s shoulder. “You were brave, Mary. No one can deny that.”

“I don’t think brave is the right word. Living here is something I could never be proud of.” She shook her head.

“But Jesus healed you, Mary. He saved you. You should be proud of that.” Rivka smiled.

The sounds of shouting drifted in from downstairs.

Rivka rolled her eyes and huffed. “It’s that awful Moses and Mathias. They’re twins and moved here last month. They go to the Hammer every night, come back in the morning, and from the sounds of it, try to kill each other.”

Matthew looked terrified.

“You two better go before it gets worse. You can probably sneak past them.”

“I’ll try to come back soon, but-”

“No, don’t worry, I’ll be alright. I suppose I exaggerated in my message when I said I needed you to come ‘right away’. I was just so lonely, and I wanted to see your beautiful smile.”

Mary blushed. “Take care, Rivka. You’re welcome to visit anytime.”

“I know. Shalom, Matthew, I’ll see you around.”

He waved shyly. “Shalom.”

Together, Matthew and Mary stepped out into the hallway. “I’ll walk ahead of you, Mary. Let’s try to go out the door quickly.”

She nodded, her face pale.

They hurried down the stairs and out into the street. Fortunately, it was empty.

Zee approached. “That wasn’t very long.”

Matthew decided to repeat what Mary had said earlier. “Long story. Come, we must get Mary back.”

Zee just smiled and shook his head. Those two.

Chapter Text

The disciples were gathered around the campfire, exhausted from a full day of traveling on the road. After eating a quick supper, Jesus had gone off in the distance to pray and think, leaving the others quietly waiting for His return.

Peter quickly noticed everyone seemed down in the dumps. Even Philip, normally so positive and bubbly, kept his thoughts to himself as he sat poking a stick in the fire. Matthew looked mixed up and confused, while Little James frowned in discomfort as his back ached in pain.

He couldn’t bear the silence any longer. “Alright, alright. Andrew, bring on a question.”

“Huh?” Andrew looked up. Apparently, he too had been lost in thought.

“You heard me,” Peter leaned forward. “One of your mind games. You know.”

“Oh, yeah,” Andrew scratched his beard and looked up. “Hmmm, let me see.”

Thaddeus looked concerned. “Uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea. The last time we did this; things did not turn out well.”

Matthew couldn’t agree more.

“No worries,” Peter assured them. “This time will be different, I promise.” He looked towards Andrew expectantly.

“You know,” Philip said thoughtfully, “I have a better idea. Instead of playing Andrew’s game, what if we did something else? Ah, how do I explain it? Two players go forward. Someone pitches a question with two options. Each player picks one. . .”

“I get what you mean,” Zee nodded. “Everyone voices their opinions. . .”

“They stand behind the player they agree with!” Philip continued, warming to the topic.

“So you mean,” Peter said slowly, “a debate, kind of?”

“Exactly!”

Everyone looked impressed by Philip’s idea.

“Sounds fun to me,” Judas spoke. A few others nodded.

“Great!” Andrew looked excited. “I’ll be the moderator.”

“Soooo,” John said a moment later. “Who wants to be the two players?”

“I think Zee and Little James would be amusing.” Peter offered with a grin.

“Perhaps some other time. I’m happy to watch, but tonight I don’t think I’m up for playing,” Little James explained. Everyone nodded sympathetically.

“Thomas, you up for it?” John asked cautiously. Thomas shook his head quickly, but he still looked decently good-spirited considering what had happened recently.

A mischievous glint appeared in Philip’s eyes. “I have a pair in mind.”

Everyone looked at him.

“How about Matthew and Mary?”

A chorus of “ooohhhh’s” went up from the apostles.

“As hilarious as that would be, I don’t think that would work.” Andrew said.

“Definitely not,” Peter agreed.

“Why not?” Philip asked.

“Seriously? Matthew and Mary? He would purposely let her win every round.” Peter said, causing everyone to laugh in agreement.

Matthew blushed.

“Normally he would, but not tonight. You get competitive, okay Matthew?” Philip asked his friend.

“Ummm,” Matthew hesitated, but he saw Mary was smiling excitedly. “I suppose we could do that.”

All the men cheered.

“Alright, alright,” Peter held up his hands to calm everyone down. “Andrew, you stand here at the front,” He grabbed two chairs and set them a couple feet apart from each other. “Matthew and Mary, you two sit here. The rest of you stand up and prepare to stand behind the person you agree with.”

Tamar cheered as Mary went forward. “Go, Mary, you’ve got this! Let Matthew see what you’re made of!”

Matthew froze.

Nathanael scoffed and rolled his eyes. “She doesn’t mean literally, Matthew. It’s an expression.”

Matthew relaxed. “Oh. Right.”

Mary blushed but laughed along with everyone else as she and Matthew sat in the two chairs.

“Alright!” Andrew jumped forward. “As the moderator, I officially announce- let the games begin!”

“Hold on,” Matthew said. The men all groaned, but he went on. “Since Mary is a woman, it seems unfair that all the players are men, except Tamar anyway. Won’t you all just vote for me because my views will likely be more masculine, therefore pertaining more to you?”

Peter shrugged and waved a hand. “Eh, it’ll be fine. Let’s just get to playing. Andrew?”

“Right!” Andrew rubbed his hands together. “First question, okay? You all ready to vote?”

Everyone nodded.

“Grapes or pomegranates?”

Before Mary could answer Matthew spoke.

“Before everyone takes sides, it would be helpful to analyze the nutritional value of grapes versus pomegranates. Pomegranates are significantly higher in fiber, which makes them a better choice for digestive health. They also contain more potassium and magnesium than grapes.” Matthew was about to continue when Peter cut him off.

“Thank you, Matthew, thank you. Very helpful. I can assume you’re voting pomegranates?”

Matthew nodded.

“Alright. Mary?”

“Uh, I am going to say grapes. For no significant reason besides they’re delicious.” She smiled.

“Okay. Everyone pick a side!” Andrew announced.

There was a jumble as the ten men plus Tamar took their places behind Matthew and Mary. Matthew had two votes- Philip and Judas- and Mary had nine. She looked surprised at the results.

“Grapes are more common,” Andrew shrugged as if to console Matthew, who wasn’t the least bit upset about being defeated by Mary. He grabbed a tablet and made a tally on one side.

“One point for team Mary!” He exclaimed. Everyone clapped, including Matthew.

“Next question.” Andrew was in his element; announcing questions, writing down tallies, and being the moderator.

“Sea of Galilee or the Jordan River?”

“What?” Peter raised his eyebrows. “Where did you come up with that?”

Andrew shrugged. “I don’t know, it just came to me. The moderator can pick any questions he wants; you know.”

Matthew knew his answer immediately. “The Sea of Galilee. It was the place where I first witnessed one of Jesus’s miracles.”

“Ah, yes, I recall that day fondly,” John smiled at his brother and the sons of Jonah. “Lots changed that day, hm?”

They all agreed.

Mary furrowed her eyebrows. “That’s a hard one, Andrew. I would agree with Matthew, but then there wouldn’t be any competition,” She smiled. “Jesus was baptized in the Jordan River, correct?”

Philip nodded. “That’s right. I was there.”

“Really?” Peter looked impressed. “Hey, not bad.”

“Alright,” Mary beamed. “I’ll go with that.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, take your sides!”

“I wouldn’t necessarily call us “gentle-men,” Big James said as he stood behind Matthew. “More like rough-men.” A few others laughed.

Andrew quickly counted. Peter, Big James, John, Thomas, Thaddeus, and Judas took Matthew’s side. The other five grouped around Mary.

Matthew observed it all keenly. Obviously, the memory of the miracle of the fish was fresh in the minds of Peter, Big James, and John. No doubt Thomas chose it because it was on the sea he proposed to Ramah.

“Here’s a point for Matthew!” Andrew cried. Everyone cheered.

“It’s anyone’s game.” Little James joked.

Andrew cleared his throat. “Ummm, let’s see. Patience or courage?”

“We’re doing virtues?!” Mary tilted her head.

“I agree with Mary,” Matthew nodded, “both are equal in importance.”

“Ahh, but you all must pick!” Andrew grinned.

“Patience.” Mary decided.

“Courage.” Matthew chose. He still wasn’t very happy about competing against Mary, but he began to realize it was all just for fun.

“I, uh, I’m having a nice time. I really am,” Thomas spoke up. “But I think I just need some time alone for a while.” He gave a sad little wave and walked off.

John wanted to go after him but decided against it.

“Okay,” Andrew cleared his throat. “Places, please!”

It was a tie.

“Matthew was right, Andrew! Both virtues are equal in importance!” Peter called from his place behind Mary.

“Fine, fine, next time I’ll do easier ones,” Andrew said. “How do we break this tie?”

“Thoma-” Nathanael started to yell, but John nudged him. “He needs to be alone. Andrew, why don’t you vote?”

Andrew frowned. “The moderator can’t vote.”

“Wait, wait, you’re the moderator? I didn’t know that! Oh wait, except you’ve mentioned it like five times!” Peter drawled.

They all burst out laughing.

“Okay, someone change their minds!” Andrew pleaded.

Thaddeus and Judas, each on a different side, started to switch at the same moment, crashing into each other. Mary’s sides ached from laughing, and she smiled over at Matthew, who returned the gesture.

“You know,” Philip said once he could breathe again after all the laughing, “maybe we should call it a wrap. It's late.”

“And call it a tie?” Andrew considered it thoughtfully. “We probably should be getting to bed. We have a long day ahead of ourselves tomorrow. What do you say, contestants?”

“It’s fine with me,” Mary answered with a smile. Matthew nodded.

“Alright then. Congratulations to our two winners!” Andrew yelled, causing them all to erupt in applause and loud cheers.

Still laughing, Mary extended her hand to Matthew, who shyly took it and shook it.

“Well done, Mary.” He smiled.

“You too, Matthew.”

Chapter Text

The air was quiet and tranquil, but Mary felt anything but peaceful. Her stomach felt like it was tied in a million knots.

She grimaced as another wave of nausea washed over her. What had she been thinking? Just leaving camp unannounced, going to The Hammer, gambling, uncovering her head?

But when the sight of the Roman- taut on his sleek, muscled horse and feathery red plume standing tall- flashed into her head, her knees buckled, and she felt faint. The feeling was so strong she almost felt tempted to run all the way back to The Hammer again and drink away her fears.

But that’s not what we do when we are scared, she reminded herself harshly. We say the words.

Mary didn’t want to admit it to herself, but she knew if Simon and Matthew hadn’t come for her, she wouldn’t have gone back. Without Matthew’s sincere, encouraging words and Simon’s steadfast determination, she would have remained lost in the shadow of her fears.

And then they saw me being sick. Mary winced, convinced it was the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to her. Yet Matthew, finicky and squeamish as he was, had crouched close and held back her tangled hair.

So maybe she was teaching Ramah to read, but there were others that could do that. And yes, she had helped Tamar and her friends cut open the roof and lower the paralytic, but if it truly was God’s Will the man was healed, it would have just happened a different way.

Why did I let them convince me? She wondered. She slowly realized it wasn’t just their words, but their actions. Simon getting some fresh, clean water; a stark contrast to the heavy, rancid, pernicious drink from The Hammer. Matthew’s eyes, full of tenderness and concern. The way he sat by her side until she was able to stand up, how he accompanied her to the public facility and patiently waited outside, and now as he walked beside her on the way back to camp.

Her stomach flip-flopped at the thought of facing everyone- the women’s sympathetic smiles, the men’s disapproving frowns, and yes, even Jesus’s forgiveness. Suppose He refused to see her? What would she do then?

Aware as she was of everyone’s care and support, Mary couldn’t help but feel like they had been a little oblivious when it came to her feelings. Yes, Ramah had continuously checked on her, asked what was wrong, but after the demoniac- Caleb, she remembered- was healed, all attention went to him- and that strong looking burly man who appeared out of nowhere. Who was that man?

“How are you feeling?” Matthew suddenly asked cautiously, bringing Mary back to the present. The road was dusty, the birds sang. Simon strode ahead a good distance, looking pleased at successfully finding Mary and bringing her back.

“Uh, the same, I suppose.” Mary replied quietly. She felt ashamed of her filthy face and messy hair, loose and uncovered. But after yanking off her veil at The Hammer she carelessly let it drift to the floor; quickly getting trampled and ruined.

Matthew cleared his throat awkwardly. “Everyone will be glad to see you. Ramah especially. She was very concerned about you.” He spoke.

“Mm. It will be nice to see her,” Mary said absentmindedly with a frown, hugging herself tighter.

Matthew looked at her, sensing her distraction. He looked like he was about to say something, then closed his mouth again.

Mary suddenly stopped dead in the middle of the road. Matthew looked alarmed. “Are- are you alright? Do you need to-?” He gestured towards the side of the road.

“No, no,” Mary shook her head. “I just- I cannot go back, Matthew,” She looked at him with eyes filled with tears. “I can’t face Him.”

He took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "Mary, it's. . . okay to be scared. I- I get scared too, more often than I'd like to admit."

She looked at him, surprised by his admission. "You do?"

Matthew nodded, his hands fidgeting with the edge of his tunic. "Yes. It's not. . . it's not easy for me to fit in with the others. I have my routines, my ways of doing things, and. . . sometimes, I just feel like I don't belong."

Mary's tears paused; her curiosity piqued by his honesty.

"But. . ." he continued, "what I've learned. . . from all of them, from Jesus, is that... we don't have to be perfect. We're allowed to make mistakes. What's important is that we keep trying, that we don't give up."

She wiped her eyes, listening intently.

"Everyone at the camp. . . they care about you, Mary. Not just because of what you can do for them, but because of who you are. And. . . I care about you too. A lot." He blushed, looking down at his feet. "It's okay to be afraid. But you don't have to face it alone. We're all here for you."

Mary sniffled and nodded, trying to swallow the lump in her throat. What would she do without sweet Matthew? He treated her like an angel; something precious he would never let go of. She recalled the words he had spoken to her earlier. Simon had fetched the water; she sat hesitating on the rotting bench. “I- I can’t go back.” She had whispered hoarsely to Matthew. His eyes had grown determined and he leaned forward. “Mary,” he had said quietly, “I’m not going back without you.”

Simon finally had noticed they’d stopped. “Come on, you two,” He called back. “We need to get back before sundown.”

They started walking again.

“I don’t know why I left,” Mary finally spoke, the dirt crunching underneath their feet. “It was so foolish of me. I was just so terrified when. . .” She trailed off.

Matthew looked at her curiously. “When you saw the demoniac?”

“Uh, no. It was before that. I saw-”

Simon suddenly stopped and waited for them to catch up. Mary quickly stopped talking.

She doesn’t want Simon to hear this, Matthew realized. Did she really trust Matthew more than him?

“You two alright?” Simon asked.

Matthew nodded, wishing Simon would keep walking so Mary could finish her sentence.

Satisfied, Simon took off briskly again. Matthew looked towards her expectantly.

But she seemed to have lost her resolve to continue.

He decided to speak. “I did notice you seemed in a state of. . . deep frustration yesterday. Thomas noticed as well. I was going to ask if something was amiss, but I never got the chance. I’m sorry.”

Mary shook her head. “No, uh, it’s fine, Matthew. Don’t worry about it.” she paused to cough.

“Here.” He quickly handed her his flask of water, which she took and drank from.

“Thank you. I can’t believe how parched I am.” She gave a weak smile and humorless chuckle. “The water really helps.”

“Jesus will be able to help you, too.” Matthew told her.

This time Mary let out a real chuckle. “I really hope so. That is the last time I’ll lean on my own understanding.”

“Your understanding is likely better than most of the men in our group. You seem very prudent.” He remarked.

“After today, I’m inclined to believe you’re wrong, Matthew. I really messed up.”

He didn’t reply.

Mary chuckled again. “Remember the first time we spoke? I thought I called you the wrong name. It seems so long ago.”

The corner of Matthew’s mouth went up, glad to see Mary in better spirits.

“I do recall that. Things were certainly simpler then.”

“Well, there were certainly fewer people in our group.” Mary said with a small smile.

Matthew couldn’t bear it any longer. He wanted to be patient, but he also really wanted- no, needed- to know what had truly caused Mary’s anxiety.

“Mary, you- you said it was not the demoniac- er, Caleb- that caused you to leave. What was it?”

Mary bit her lip. Just recalling the memory made her head throb. “It was a Roman soldier. He-”

“What did he do?” Matthew blurted. He stopped walking and faced her. “Mary, did he harm you?”

Tears stung her eyes. Mary blinked them back and started walking faster.

“Mary?” Matthew urged. Clearly, he wouldn’t rest until she confessed.

“It was a long time ago, Matthew, before I met Jesus.” Mary finally spoke.

Matthew tilted his head in confusion. “You saw the Roman soldier just the other day, yes? I thought you met Jesus many months ago.”

“The Roman I saw recently didn’t do anything- didn't even look at me.” Mary adjusted her satchel. “It brought back a memory.”

“Oh.” Matthew was concerned.

“He assaulted me. A long time ago, when I was still possessed. And anytime I see a soldier now, I just quake in fear. What if he tries to talk to me? Or hurts me? Or one of the others?” Mary was crying now.

“Mary,” was all he said, very softly. He hadn’t failed to make a mental list when Mary disappeared of all the things that could happen to her. Encountering a Roman was one of them. All that time she was sitting in the Hammer; anything could have happened. His determination to keep Mary safe grew. No wonder she was always tense and uneasy when the topic arose! The months she spent at the Red Quarter, unguarded and washed out, all alone? What had she done to deserve that? If anything, he should have been in her place, after taxing his people.

“That’s all in the past now,” He finally spoke. “Right?” he prodded.

Mary nodded. “Yes, but it’s still fresh in my memory.”

Matthew felt unsure of what to say, and Mary seemed to sense it.

“It’s alright, Matthew,” She assured him. “You don’t need to say anything. It just. . . helps telling someone about it.”

Matthew took a deep breath, feeling the weight of Mary's confession. He knew he had to be strong for her, to show her that she wasn’t alone in facing her fears.

"Thank you for trusting me with this, Mary," he said softly. "I can't imagine how hard it must have been for you.”

She didn’t respond, but the small smile she cast at him showed she was grateful. As they continued to walk, the camp finally came into view. The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden glow over everything. Matthew felt a sense of determination rise within him. He would protect Mary, no matter what.

Chapter Text

Day 1

Matthew watched closely as Thomas lit the first candelabrum, the candlelight casting a soft glow over the room. Although focused on the task, the latter’s eyes were still dark with sorrow and pain as the festive time of year strongly contrasted his anger.

Matthew couldn’t believe how fast the year had flown by. Each moment had been full- preparing for sermons, witnessing miracles, healings, fights, conversions. Heartbreak, sorrow, happiness.

In such a short period of time, his entire life had been turned around. No longer a despised tax collector, but a follower of the Messiah! In all his life he never would have dreamt of such a thing. Peter had forgiven him. The others no longer avoided him. He began to understand things more- metaphors, jokes, riddles. And throughout it all, Mary had been a firm friend.

His mind wandered to a memory from months ago when he first joined the group. Peter’s skeptical gaze, the whispered conversations that ended abruptly when he approached, and his own doubt about whether he truly belonged. But Mary had always been there, offering a kind word or a gentle smile. It was her unwavering faith in him that had given him the strength to persevere.

“And so the Feast of Dedication begins,” Jesus’s Voice drew Matthew out of his thoughts. Everyone cheered and applauded.

After reciting the verse for the day, everyone pulled the benches in a half-circle and sat down again.

Mary, next to Matthew, cast him a warm smile, which he gladly returned. “This should be interesting,” She laughed. He nodded in agreement.

Jesus began narrating as Andrew stomped around with a sword, dramatically portraying “Alexander the Worst.”

Matthew was surprised to find himself getting into it; clapping and cheering with the others. A few times he accidentally bumped Mary’s arm, or she unintentionally bumped him, and for some strange reason he could not explain he felt a strange tingly feeling whenever it happened.

They finished by chanting, “the Abomination of Desolation.”

Andrew stood up with a groan. “Pretending to be dead is hard!”

Zee took off his mask. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, you do a great job of it.”

Andrew gasped and pretended to look offended.

“Zee!” Peter said in surprise, causing them all to laugh.

“Come on,” Big James stood up. “Let’s get these benches back in place.”

“Oh, yeah!” Andrew exclaimed. “Can’t have the innkeeper getting mad at us!”

“Definitely not,” Jesus said with a joking smile. “She might decide she doesn’t have enough room and turn us away!” He laughed at His joke.

Everyone stared blankly at Him.

“Oh, Mary,” Tamar suddenly remembered. “I have something for you. I’ll be right back!” She hurried upstairs.

“Oh, thank you, Tamar,” Mary smiled. She turned towards Matthew. “I can’t believe it’s already time for the Feast!”

“I was just thinking that, too,” He replied. “Time certainly is strange.”

Mary hummed in agreement. “Someday, eventually, in a while, soon. . .” She trailed off with a smile. “None of them make sense.”

“Time is manmade,” Matthew pointed out, unaware that Peter was waiting for him to stand so he could move the bench. “We shouldn’t expect it to make sense.”

“Sort of like darkness and light,” Mary said, very thoughtfully. “They cannot be measured, nor can they be truly separated. One exists because of the other, and in every shadow, there is a promise of illumination. It's the balance between the two that brings depth to our world.”

Peter huffed impatiently.

Matthew looked at Mary in surprise, as if to say, “where did that come from?”

“Sorry,” Mary chuckled sheepishly. “Was that too much? It’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot recently.”

“You are very wise,” Matthew said generously. He could compliment Mary all day and never run out of things to say. “Are you writing these things down?”

“Uh, no,” Mary looked a little self-conscious. “I guess I haven’t had, um, time.” They both laughed softly at her pun.

“Matthew!” Peter finally exclaimed. “Could you stand up, man? I’ve been waiting to move this bench!”

“Oh, sorry,” Matthew blushed and quickly stood up.

Mary smiled gently. “We could talk outside, if you’d like.”

Matthew’s heart leapt. “I would enjoy that, thank you.”

They went out into the courtyard, which was quiet. “Someday we might know,” Mary spoke slowly. “Or perhaps we won’t. It’s a mystery.”

Matthew nodded.

“I think the darkness of night and internal darkness are two different things. Darkness is black, void, frightening because we cannot see it. If the darkness of night was called light, would we call our internal darkness light? Would it be illuminated?”

Matthew cocked his head. “Those are difficult questions,” he said, causing Mary to chuckle.

“It’s a lot, I know. Now you know what I’ve been thinking about lately,” She smiled playfully.

“I, uh, sometimes I do wonder what your thoughts are,” he admitted shyly with a thoughtful expression on his face. “With some people, like Nathanael, you never have to guess what they’re thinking. But with others, like you, well, you can spend a lot of time thinking about it.”

“Mm.” Mary fiddled with the frayed end of her veil. “Kind of like the things Jesus says. Some are obvious, the others take a lot of thinking to figure out what it means.”

“I get that,” Matthew told her, lifting his pointer finger. “I still struggle with ‘the last will be first, and the first will be last.’”

“Me too. I struggle with a lot of things He says. But I’m sure we’ll figure it out. . . Soon.”

Day 2

The next morning, Mary woke up early, planning to finish weaving the scarf she was making for Tamar. It was simple and white, quite different from the bright red and orange her friend normally wore, but at least it was something.

It was a beautiful time to be alive. Mary had realized, some time ago, that beautiful didn’t necessarily mean perfect or joyful. But with each passing day, she understood how fragile life was; something you didn’t take for granted.

She noticed a few spots of dirt at the edge of the scarf and tried to rub them away with her thumb. Unsuccessful, Mary decided to try dabbing some water on it.

The basin in the room was empty, so Mary put on her veil and went downstairs in search of water.

It wasn’t as early as she thought. Andrew, Zee, Little James, and Matthew were already at the table together eating some bread.

“Shalom, boys.” She smiled at them. They all looked up and greeted her.

“Where are you off to?” Little James asked, noticing her move towards the door.

“Going to get some water,” She turned with a smile.

“Oh, may I come with you?” He stood up. “It’s a nice day out there.”

“Of course.” Mary was pleased to have some company. She patiently waited for her friend to limp over.

“Come on, Andrew. We should head out as well,” Zee brushed the breadcrumbs off his tunic front. Mary looked at him curiously. “We’re making a gift for Philip,” he explained. The two walked out.

Mary noticed Matthew looking a little lonely, sitting by himself at the table. “Matthew, would you like to join us?” she asked kindly.

He looked up at her, then ducked his head shyly. “Alright, thank you, Mary.” He grabbed his satchel.

The three of them set out, heading to the well which was only a short distance from their inn.

“You looking forward to tonight, Matthew?” Little James asked, his walking stick making little dent marks in the dusty road. “Lots of acting to do,” He added with a smile.

“I suppose I am curious to how it will play out,” Matthew replied. “I have never fought with a wooden sword before.”

Mary let out a laugh. “I would hope not, Matthew.”

He gave a small smile.

They found the well and drew up a couple buckets of water.

As they began their walk back, Little James asked, "So, Matthew, what do you think of the play? Are you nervous?"

Matthew looked thoughtful for a moment. "A bit, yes. I am not used to performing in front of others. But I believe it will be an interesting experience."

“You’ll do fine, Matthew,” Mary gave him an encouraging smile. “It’s just for fun anyways.”

He nodded, feeling a little relieved.

They continued their walk in comfortable silence, enjoying the warm sunshine and the soft breeze. As they neared the inn, they saw Philip and Thaddeus approaching, carrying some bundles of herbs.

"Ah, there you are," Philip called out cheerfully. "We've been looking for you. Thaddeus and I found some fresh herbs for tonight's meal. It's going to be a feast!"

Little James grinned. "Sounds wonderful. We'll bring the water inside."

With the water now at hand, the preparations for the evening continued with everyone pitching in. Before long, they were gathered around the table once again, reciting together with smiling faces.

Afterwards, Mary went upstairs to get the scarf, which she had wrapped in a simple cloth. Tamar was overjoyed with the gift, while nearby Andrew was in ecstasy at the gift his brother had given him.

Matthew and John exchanged gifts, and before long the benches were pulled up once again so the men could perform their drama. Mary and Tamar made a small audience, but what they lacked in size they made up in cheering.

Day 3

Pray, eat, sing, repeat. To Matthew, the Feast of Dedication was very repetitive- not that he minded. He liked routine and order.

Everyone seemed glad to have a break and settle down for a little while. Laughter bounced off the walls, and a sense of serenity filled the room.

Until one evening Andrew and John decided to arm wrestle.

Matthew landed the role of referee. It was a close game, and everyone was shocked at Andrew’s success.

After the laughter died down, Jesus announced they would be going to the Holy City on the last day of the feast, for Him to deliver a sermon.

Everyone seemed a little taken aback, but within a couple moments the excitement of arm wrestling arose again.

“Go again!” Big James ordered.

“But that was a good match!” Andrew cried.

Matthew noticed Tamar pulling at Mary’s arm and whispering to her. Everyone cheered as the two women went forward and sat across from each other.

“Alright, everyone, take your bets! Who’s taking this one?” Peter asked, grinning widely.

John was clapping his hands excitedly. “My money’s on Tamar. She’s got that fire in her eyes.”

“Ah, but Mary has a quiet strength,” Andrew argued. “Don’t underestimate her.”

“Matthew, make sure you don’t get too distracted to call the match!” Big James laughed.

Matthew blushed but straightened his posture, trying to appear more authoritative. “Ready, set, go!” He announced.

A hushed tension fell over the room as Mary and Tamar began. The apostles leaned in, whispering to each other and cheering.

“Look at them, evenly matched!” Philip pointed out to Nathanael.

“I know,” he replied. “This could go either way.”

As the match continued, it became clear that both women were giving it their all. The cheering intensified, and Matthew found himself silently rooting for Mary.

Suddenly Tamar’s confidence faltered for a second, and Mary seized the moment, bringing her arm to the table.

Matthew was so caught up in it he hardly realized. “One. . . two. . . three. . . I formally declare Mary as the victor!” He exclaimed quickly.

A loud cheer went up from the apostles, while Tamar and Mary laughed and congratulated each other.

Day 4

Matthew returned to the inn with the men, John sneakily hiding the pair of sandals wrapped in burlap behind his back.

While the others went upstairs to wrap the gift, Matthew sat down and pulled out a journal and his new stylus from John. The wood gleamed so nicely he was almost afraid to use it.

But he didn’t get very far in his writing, getting distracted by his thoughts. What was causing Judas’s- what word had Big James used? Stingy, that was it. Why was he so sullen and snappish?

Matthew couldn’t think of a single thing he had done to cause Judas to be cross. It was a time to celebrate, not argue.

He wondered if Judas was angry because he hadn’t received a gift yet for the Feast. But Matthew had no money to buy one, and of course, asking Judas for some would ruin the surprise.

Mary and Tamar walked in just then, talking quietly.

“Shalom, Matthew.” Tamar greeted. Mary gave him a shy smile.

“Hello Tamar, Mary.” He replied, feeling a little flustered. He twisted the pen around his fingers.

“Oh, is that the new stylus John gave you?” Mary asked, leaning forward. “It’s beautiful!” she said softly.

“Thank you, Mary,” Matthew looked down at the stylus. “It is beautiful. John was very kind to give it to me.” He glanced at her.

Mary nodded with a smile.

“Hm, may I see it?” Tamar asked.

“Oh, uh, of course,” Matthew handed her the stylus, wondering why she cared to look at it. She had already mentioned she couldn’t read or write.

“Old.” She said solemnly a moment later, giving him back the pen.

“Old? What do you mean, Tamar?” Mary asked, tilting her head.

“I had a friend who wrote a lot of important documents and papers. He had a stylus like this one- almost three years ago. I’m not sure it’ll work too well.”

“Oh, no, it works very well, see?” He showed her his piece of parchment.

“I have already told you, Matthew, I cannot read.” Tamar stood up with a frown. She walked out of the room.

Matthew stirred anxiously. He always felt rather uncomfortable around women, besides Mary. Something about her was different. But now he had upset Tamar, and he felt awful.

“Don’t worry, Matthew,” Mary told him reassuringly. “I know it seems like you caused Tamar to be upset, but it wasn’t that. We were just talking about her family, and she became emotional. She’ll cool off soon.”

“Oh,” Matthew laid down his pen. “Should I apologize?”

“For what?” Mary asked. “You didn’t do anything, Matthew.”

He tilted his head in thought. “I suppose you’re right. As always.” He added.

Mary laughed and shook her head modestly.

“Uh, speaking of apologizing, I believe I caused Judas to be in a state of, um, stinginess earlier,” Matthew explained to Mary what happened.

“That wasn’t your fault either,” Mary told him. “But I don’t think we should talk about it, Matthew. Something is clearly troubling Judas. Discussing it behind his back won’t help anything.”

“I’ll try to talk to him again soon.”

Mary nodded, and they looked into each other’s eyes for a minute before Matthew shyly looked away.

“Well, um, I should be upstairs. I must help the others with something.” He stood up.

“Alright.” Mary said softly. She watched him depart with a smile on her face.

************

That evening, after a meal and gift giving, Little James insisted the women join in on a song.

“The Song of Miriam!” They all agreed. Everyone quieted down to listen.

“Someone will have to teach me.” Tamar smiled. Matthew was glad to see her in better spirits again.

Nathanael led her through the first verse, then turned towards Mary.

“Mary, want to take the second one?” He asked.

Mary nodded, feeling a little self-conscious with everyone watching, but she turned towards Tamar with a smile. “Ready? The next part is-” she gestured to Andrew to keep playing- “The horse and it’s rider he has thrown into the sea.” She sang softly. Tamar repeated her.

“That’s all there is to it!” Little James smiled. “From the top, okay?”

The women began again, though Mary sang much more quietly than Tamar, who finished another verse and turned toward her friend.

“Mary, do a solo!” She insisted. The men all cheered in agreement. “Take the next verse.”

Mary complied, her voice a bit stronger this time. As she sang, Matthew couldn’t help but be captivated by her voice. It was soft yet powerful, and as the song continued, Matthew found himself lost in her voice, the world around him fading away.

When the song finished, the room erupted in applause, but Matthew remained quiet, his eyes still fixed on Mary. She glanced his way, their eyes meeting for a brief moment, and he felt a connection that he couldn't quite explain.

“Wonderful, wonderful!” Peter exclaimed, relieved everyone seemed to be in festive spirits again. “Nathanael, how about singing Hallel?” A fresh round of applause went up as the former architect took the stage.

Day 5

The next morning, the sun beat down on them all as they went through the process of making flour. Matthew couldn’t help noticing Judas seemed in a dark mood once again.

He found himself spreading out the wheat with Philip while Zee and Big James beat it with hatchets.

Philip paused to scratch his neck and take a breath. "You know, Matthew, there’s a certain art to spreading out wheat. You’ve got to imagine you’re painting a masterpiece."

"A masterpiece of wheat?" he repeated, taking Philip’s words literally. His brow furrowed in confusion. “I’m not sure I follow.”

Big James laughed. "Well, if you’re the artist, then Zee and I must be the percussion section," he laughed, emphasizing his point by beating the wheat rhythmically. "We could start a new form of music- ‘Wheat Beats.’"

“I’m not sure ‘Wheat Beats’ will catch on, James. But I appreciate your enthusiasm.” He shoved him playfully.

“We could call ourselves Wheat Beaters- though that may sound too aggressive.”

“Perfect for Zee,” Big James jabbed back.

"It certainly would be unique," Matthew said, his expression serious as he considered the idea. He looked very concerned. “Becoming a group of musicians sounds very costly. I do not think we have the funds.”

The men burst out laughing. “It’s a joke, Matthew.” Philip pointed out with a kind smile. “It would be fun, though.”

“Definitely.” Big James agreed.

“Someday, perhaps.” Zee smiled.

*******************

On the last day of the Feast, they all gathered up their things and trekked towards Jerusalem. It had certainly been a festive week, but Matthew had a feeling that things were about to take a turn- soon.

Chapter Text

It was a pleasant day on the outskirts of Gennesaret. The apostles had busied themselves with various tasks, trying to pass the long afternoon hours.

Philip and Matthew found themselves chopping wood in a forest near the camp. Normally this task was assigned to the others, but they were already knee-deep in knife sharpening that morning.

“Nothing to it,” Philip assured Matthew, who had never chopped wood before in his entire life. The latter was concerned about it.

“You put the piece of wood on the stump, right? Then, position the axe on your shoulder and bring it down with a swing- ha!” Philip grunted. “See?”

“What if you hit the stump instead of the piece of wood?” Matthew questioned.

“You just pull it out,” Philip demonstrated with a smile, eager to share the information with his new friend.

“Want to give it a try? We can work together. There’s another stump right over here.” Philip handed Matthew his axe- slightly smaller than the other one- and grabbed some more wood.

“I am glad the others are not here to see this,” Matthew mumbled, delicately picking up a piece of wood. “Um, what do I do with this now?”

Philip smiled patiently. “Put it on the stump,” He repeated. “Then whack it in half.”

To ‘whack it in half’ was something much easier said than done, Matthew found out. He awkwardly brought down the axe, barely piercing the wood.

“You’ve gotta put more elbow grease it in, Matthew.” Philip wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.

Matthew hesitated, then swung the axe down a little harder; leaving a small dent in the wood. “Hey, better than nothing, right?” Philip beamed.

“I suppose,” Matthew was disgusted with himself. Imagine if one of the others were watching him- or the women! What kind of man is unable to chop wood in his late twenties?

“Hey, Philip!” Thaddeus’s voice rang out from a distance. The former stonemason jogged towards them. “Would you mind coming into town with me? Little James was planning on it, but I’m not sure he’s up for the walk.”

“Of course,” Philip stuck the axe head into the stump. “Just give me a minute to clean up. Hey, Matthew, I’ll send someone over to help you.”

Someone else to help besides Philip? Matthew began to worry. The others would surely ridicule his uncanny way of doing manual work.

“I- I will-” But before Matthew could think of something to say, Philip and Thaddeus had walked away.

This was not good.

Desperately, he wracked his brain for a plan. Finally he came up with a reckless solution. If he finished chopping the wood before someone else joined him, they wouldn’t see his odd way of working.

And that is how Matthew cut himself.

How it happened, he’d never know. One moment the axe was hefted on his shoulder, the next it was swinging down.

It wasn’t actually a cut; more like a deep gouge in his pointer finger. But cut or not, it sure bled.

Naturally, he panicked. Matthew had always been cautious to stay away from any tasks that could be dangerous, and now here he was, blood spurting everywhere.

The sight of blood- even his own- almost made him gag, but he made himself grab his handkerchief and wrap it around his wound. What Matthew didn’t know was that he should apply pressure to the cut, instead dabbing it delicately. He scooted for his tent.

“Hey, Matthew!” Someone called. Of all people, it had to be Simon.

“Er, yes?” Matthew attempted to hide his hand behind his back.

“You get that wood chopped yet?”

“Um, no, not yet. I am regretful to inform you I came across an unfortunate circumstance, therefore I must retire from the task early.”

By the time Simon had deciphered Matthew’s words, he had already disappeared into his tent. Simon gave a frustrated growl. “What was that all about?” he asked Andrew grumpily, gesturing.

Andrew shrugged, gnawing on an apple. “I don’t know. Maybe he hurt himself?”

“Oh,” Simon nodded. “Yeah, probably. I mean, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again- Matthew would probably fish in the desert!” He laughed.

Andrew frowned. “Look, I don’t care for him either, okay? But he’s probably never chopped wood before. If he’s hurt, we should help him.”

“Yeah, he’s never chopped wood before because he’s a tax collector!” Simon threw up his hands.

“Was,” Andrew reminded his brother. “Just like we’re no longer fishermen.”

“Oh, you wanna bet? I still fish all the time! So does that mean he’s still going to collect taxes?”

“Simon-”

“If he hurt himself chopping wood, that’s his own problem.” The older Son of Jonah stormed off.

Andrew sighed. He loved his brother more than anything, but he sure could be frustrating.

John walked over. “What was that all about?” He asked.

“Oh, just the usual,” Andrew grumbled. “You have an older brother. You know how it feels.”

“Oh, definitely,” John agreed. For a moment the two looked at each other, sharing a silent understanding only little brothers can.

“So,” John broke the silence, “what were you two arguing about?”

“Matthew,” Andrew said, then his eyes widened. “Matthew!” He repeated loudly. “I completely forgot. I think he hurt himself chopping wood.”

John rolled his eyes. “Why am I not surprised?”

Andrew huffed. “I guess I’ll go check on him.” He sagged his shoulders melodramatically before walking over to Matthew’s tent.

“Matthew?” Andrew called, ruffling the tent flap as a way of knocking.

“I will be out in a moment, Andrew.” Came the reply.

Andrew sighed. “Did you get hurt?” he asked, trying to be patient, but the strain in his voice was obvious.

“No.”

“Ah, you just lied! I see a trail of blood leading to your tent.” Andrew said, lying himself now.

“I- I am sorry. That must have been very unpleasant for you to see.”

Andrew grinned. “So you are hurt!”

Matthew huffed. “As I mentioned to your brother, I am regretful to inform you-”

“-That you came across an unfortunate circumstance, yeah, I know. Look, don’t worry about it. I have some clean water here. Let’s wash your cut.”

“That is unnecessary. I will just use the water from my flask. Which I have next to me.”

“I wouldn’t do that. If you’ve drank from that flask, any bacteria from your mouth could get into your cut and infect it. Have you drank from it?”

Matthew’s silence confirmed Andrew’s question.

He hummed. “Okay, just let me see the cut, okay?” Andrew paced around the tent.

Matthew emerged from the tent. He glanced towards the trail he had taken. “Where is the trail of blood?” he questioned, tilting his head.

“Uhhh, never mind that. Okay, let me see.”

Matthew held out his hand.

“Matthew, it’s- that’s a lot of blood!”

“Yes, I know.”

“Here, let me see.”

“No! I mean, no thank you. I don’t like being touched.”

“Um, okay,” Andrew stepped back. “Let’s get some water for it, then you can wrap it up.”

He grabbed a jar of clean water after boiling it and brought it over. “Here’s some linen,” He watched Matthew bathe the gouge.

“You need to apply pressure. Matthew, it’s bleeding really bad, here, I-” He dropped his hands at his side. “You need to wrap it up. Now.”

Matthew was getting annoyed. What did Andrew know about tending to wounds? Apparently, a lot.

Nathanael strolled over. “What are you two- Matthew! What happened!”

“I am regretful to inform you that-”

“He had an accident.” Andrew interrupted.

“That’s really bad. Get that wrapped up now.” Nathanael’s voice was urgent.

“I am trying to,” Matthew attempted to wrap his finger, but it was difficult using only one hand- and his non-dominant one.

“Here,” Nathanael grabbed the cloth. “Let me help.”

“I am not in need of your assistance. Please leave me alone.” Matthew turned away, struggling with the bandage.

Nathanael turned to Andrew helplessly, who shrugged. “Look,” Andrew tried one last time, “that’s a very bad cut, Matthew. If it’s unwrapped, it could get infected,” He spoke slowly. “Let me help, okay?”

Matthew shook his head stubbornly and crawled into his tent, then proceeded to close the flap.

Nathanael groaned. “Well, this is just great.”

Andrew placed a hand on his arm. “Don’t worry,” he assured his friend, “I have an idea.”

*************

Embarrassed was one word for it. Matthew was completely humiliated by his clumsiness.

His cut still wouldn’t stop bleeding, but at least it had slowed a little.

He had no idea how long he’d been sitting in his tent before he heard a voice.

“Matthew?”

He sighed. Talking to Mary was the last thing he wanted to do right now.

“May I come in?” She persisted gently.

How could he refuse her?

“I. . . I suppose.”

He watched Mary roll up the tent flap and step in. She gave him a small smile.

“I, uh, I heard you are injured.” she said quietly.

Matthew turned away. “Did Simon tell you that?”

“No,” Mary smiled and shook her head. “Andrew asked me to come check on you. He mentioned something about a cut, I believe.”

Mary didn’t add that Andrew had practically begged Mary to attempt to help Matthew, saying she was his “last hope”.

“I am fine,” Matthew dared to glance at her.

She bit her lip. “Matthew,” she began speaking cautiously. “I know you dislike being touched. It’s reasonable, and I want to respect you. But left untreated, your wound could get infected. May I see it?”

Matthew sighed again. He had never said ‘no’ to Mary about anything before, but it sounded tempting right about now.

But he held out his hand towards her anyway and closed his eyes tightly.

Memories came flooding back. Going to Bet Midrash with dozens of wild, jostling boys who had no patience or knowledge of taking turns. Shoving. Hitting. Pushing. Their muddy hands dirtying his tunic while playing games. Even embraces from his own family were sometimes unpleasant.

But when Mary took his hand- well, it definitely wasn’t unpleasant.

Matthew wasn’t sure how to describe it, but he knew for sure he wasn’t tempted to yank away as usual. He watched in fascination as Mary gently inspected the cut, frowning in concentration, before taking a cloth and wrapping it tightly.

“There,” She let go as gently as she had taken hold. “It should heal pretty quickly.” She gave him a quick smile.

“Oh.” Matthew realized that wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d anticipated. In fact, it hadn’t been bad at all.

“Uh, thank you, Mary. I am very grateful.” He nodded.

“Of course,” She rose to her feet.

“Um, Mary? I suppose you are wondering what happened.”

She frowned. “Not really. Andrew said you were working and got cut. It happens.”

“To me, yes. But likely not to others.” He said regretfully.

Mary let out a small chuckle. She sat back down next to him. “Of course it does, Matthew,” she smiled warmly at him. “Remember when James and John plowed Melech’s field? They both had plenty of cuts and bruises.”

“I do recall that. Trust me.” He spoke. They both chuckled while remembering how much the brothers had bragged.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed about. I’m just glad I was able to help.”

He gave her a small smile. “I am glad as well. Thank you again.”

Matthew’s smile lingered as he watched Mary leave. He glanced at his bandaged hand and took a deep breath.

In the quiet that followed, the memory of her gentle touch and kind words stayed with him. For the first time, he realized that letting someone in wasn't so frightening after all. It felt alright.

Chapter Text

Hi guys!

Firstly, I just want to quickly say thank you for for all the comments, kudos, and requets! They mean so much and make me so happy :)

I won't have a chapter this week, I've been struggling with writer's block lately and don't want to post anything I didn't put my heart into. Hopefully I'll be back next week with something I'm proud of, thanks for your patience 😊

In the meantime, I continue to ask for requests- even if you don't have a specific story plot in mind, just simple ideas/conversation starters would be great. I'm also willing to start writing chapters with conversations between other characters, as long as they involve Matthew and Mary; as they are my main characters.

Let me know what type of chapter you'd enjoy best! Which have been your favorite, which do you wish was different or had more detail, etc. I really, really appreciate feedback, so drop a comment below :)

Happy New Year, and God Bless!

Chapter Text

Simon sat breaking up kindling on a chilly Thursday morning. The weather was brisk, and the group seemed to be going through more wood than they could find.

If he was asked to describe his current mood, he would have said “content”. He wasn’t going hungry. Andrew was safe. Eden, despite missing him, was well. And best of all, he was following the Messiah. What could be better?

Well, some things could be better, thinking about it. For instance, Jesus could have picked a different person to stay behind to watch the camp with Simon. But He had picked Matthew.

The meticulous man sat poring over a scroll, enjoying the peace and quiet provided by the absence of the other apostles, who had gone into town. All they did was argue like little boys! Lately it had been even more absurd- the age-old question had arisen one evening: the chicken or the egg?

After the question was asked, it was as if silence didn’t exist.

Each apostle had different opinions for different reasons. And they usually changed every day.

Matthew himself thought it a difficult question. It seemed logical that the chicken would come first; because an egg can’t just appear, it has to be laid.

But the others didn’t care what was logical or not. All they cared about was being right.

As he scribbled away, he was aware of Simon staring at him from across the campfire. Matthew cleared his throat, shifted uncomfortably, and continued writing.

Simon wiped his nose and spoke. “I sure hope they remember to get figs,” he said somewhat loudly. “John won’t be quiet ‘til he has them.” He snickered.

Matthew looked up. “I reminded Thomas once, and Nathanael twice. It is unlikely they will forget.”

Simon rolled his eyes, but ever since a couple weeks ago, he began to see Matthew with new eyes. The determination the former tax collector showed when looking for Mary was impressive. And even though Simon hated to admit it, Matthew had established searching techniques he wouldn’t have thought of himself.

Not only that, but Simon had finally got the truth out of him- it seemed Matthew might have feelings for Mary. It made him chuckle just thinking about it, but it made him realize Matthew was human, too.

“Remember when you and I went to find Mary? It sure was an adventure.”

Matthew looked up and gave him a strange look. “Of course I remember,” he said. “That was only eighteen days ago. Why wouldn’t I remember?”

Simon felt a little embarrassed, but his curiosity piqued and forced him to continue. “Wait,” he held up a hand, “you remember how many days it was?”

Matthew ducked his head shyly. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I thought it would be important. To know what day John the Baptizer was imprisoned.”

But Simon could read between the lines. It was all too easy.

“Sure, sure. It was definitely because of that,” He laughed. “Anything else?” He persisted.

Matthew looked slightly exasperated that his writing kept getting interrupted, but he looked up anyways. He tilted his head. “And we found Mary, of course,” He added somewhat shyly.

“Yes,” Simon grinned. “That was fantastic.”

Matthew nodded but quickly got back to his writing. Jesus had delivered a short, impromptu sermon yesterday to a small group of people, but there were several lines that stood out to Matthew. He wanted to write them down before he forgot.

But his thoughts were elsewhere. Fantastic? Fantastic? Of course it was fantastic! The others had seemed somewhat annoyed at Mary’s abrupt departure and hasty return. But Matthew? Finding her was all he cared about. And now that she was back, he promised himself every day he would protect her at all costs.

Of course, he said nothing to the others. They would laugh and tease him; and Thomas would probably tell them all how Matthew tried protecting Mary with a wooden spoon one time.

Matthew tried to focus on his writing, but Simon’s presence was hard to ignore. Simon wasn’t exactly hostile, but his demeanor was far from friendly. There was a thin veneer of civility that seemed ready to crack at any moment.

“So, uh,” Simon spoke yet again, making Matthew’s temper flare up. He was tempted to jump up, snap his stylus in half, and walk away. But he wouldn’t give Simon the satisfaction.

“Speaking of when Mary left,” Simon continued, “I sure hope things turned out for that Caleb guy.”

He nodded.

“Sure was pretty intense. To think he almost attacked Mary.”

Matthew bristled.

“It’s a good thing Zee was there. Thomas mentioned you tried to protect her, but. . .”

Matthew cringed. Why had Thomas said anything?

“I did what I could with what I had,” he replied evenly, trying to keep his frustration in check.

“A wooden spoon, though? Really? What a hero.” Simon shook his head and chuckled. He knew he was pestering Matthew too much, but he couldn’t help himself. He figured he deserved it, anyways. Now Matthew understood what being stabbed in the back felt like.

Matthew’s pen stilled on the parchment as he took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm. “I wasn’t trying to be a hero. I just wanted to help.” He couldn’t even look at Simon.

Simon’s laughter faded slightly, replaced by a mocking tone. “Help, huh? Well, maybe you should stick to your scrolls and numbers. Leave the real work to those of us who know what we’re doing.”

Matthew clenched his jaw. Despite the casual cruelty in Simon’s words, he understood that the fisherman’s anger wasn’t entirely about him. It was rooted in deeper insecurities, a fear of being displaced by someone so different from himself.

“Simon, I am not trying to take anything from you,” Matthew said quietly, his voice steady. He stared at the ground. “I just want to be useful. To contribute to the group.”

Simon snorted, his eyes narrowing. “Useful, huh? Well, we’ll see about that. Just don’t get in the way.”

With that, Simon turned back to the fire, the tension between them palpable. Matthew resumed his writing, but his thoughts were clouded. He knew he wasn’t like the others—he didn’t have their strength, their experience, or their easy camaraderie.

Mary was constantly assuring him that he was just as useful as the others. “And besides,” he recalled her saying in her gentle voice, “why does it matter if we are useful or not? All Jesus asked was for us to follow Him.”

Remembering that brought a small smile to his face. What was it that Mary saw in him? He wanted to believe she genuinely liked him, but sometimes he wondered if she was only being compassionate because of his oddness.

But he decided not to worry about that today. What mattered to him mostly is that Mary talked to him, no matter how she felt. Simon’s rudeness couldn’t interfere with that.

Chapter Text

Mary opened her eyes to the sound of a metal bucket being hit. She closed her eyes again and groaned quietly, feeling a wave of annoyance at the self-proclaimed visionary.

A few days ago, Nathanael had announced he would start hitting a bucket with a stick whenever someone said something he thought was stupid.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Someone must really be upsetting him, Mary thought.

After getting herself ready, Mary helped Ramah tidy up their tent a little, then went over to the campfire to prepare breakfast.

“I was thinking we could make a big pot of porridge, then finish off the apples from last night?” Ramah suggested.

“Great idea,” Mary replied with a smile. “Hopefully it will keep them all content until lunchtime.” They both laughed.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Mary turned to see Nathanael and Andrew in a heated argument. Nathanael was vigorously pointing his stick at Andrew, his face flushed with frustration. Andrew, arms crossed and visibly trying to remain composed, shook his head in disagreement.

Mary approached cautiously, the last thing she wanted was to get involved in whatever this dispute was about, but she couldn't help but be curious.

“What are you two arguing about so early in the morning?” Mary asked, trying to keep her tone light-hearted.

“Andrew thinks it’s a waste of time to go back to the village for supplies today,” Nathanael said, banging the bucket once more for emphasis. “He doesn’t understand the urgency!”

Andrew sighed, rubbing his temples. “I just think we need to prioritize our time. We have enough supplies for a few more days.”

Mary frowned. “I thought we were already going to town today, remember? To see Thaddeus’s nephew?”

“Oh.” Andrew looked away sheepishly.

“Ha!” Nathanael whacked the bucket loudly. “Now who’s right, Andrew?” He walked away.

Mary just sighed and went back to the fire, adding a pitcher of water to the porridge and giving it an occasional stir while Ramah sliced up the apples.

All throughout breakfast, Thaddeus, who normally was quiet, spoke excitedly about his nephew.

“He’s only two,” he explained to them all. “His name is Zion, and he looks just like my sister Judith.”

“You have a sister?” Philip asked.

“Oh. Well, it’s complicated,” he explained. “But she trusts me enough to look after her kid.”

Mary smiled. “That’s wonderful, Thaddeus. It’ll be great to meet him.”

Thaddeus tried helping the women wash the dishes, but he was so excited he didn’t rinse the dishes properly, then accidentally dropped a bowl, causing it to crack.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” He stooped down and sheepishly picked up the pieces.

“It’s okay,” Ramah reassured him. “Except now we don’t have enough bowls.” She pursed her lips.

“We can get some more today,” Mary replied.

“Oh, good.” He looked relieved.

“Time to go, everyone!” Simon Peter announced loudly. “Let’s get a move on.”

They all gathered up their bags- and Nathanael grabbed his bucket, much to the annoyance of them all- and set towards town.

When they arrived, Thaddeus quickly spotted a young girl wearing a vibrant purple dress and green head covering standing near the well, clutching the hand of a toddler.

“Judith!” Thaddeus beamed. He ran ahead to greet her while the others hung back and went over the list of items they needed.

After exchanging greetings, Judith quickly handed her son over to him. “I’ll be back later tonight.” She told him.

Thaddeus brought little Zion over to the group, who immediately greeted him with smiles and kind words. The toddler clung shyly to his uncle.

“Alright,” Philip quickly took charge after making a few funny faces at Zion, “let’s split up. Thomas and Andrew, please go find some. . .”

He trailed off as an elaborately dressed woman approached them. She explained that she had heard the Sermon on the Mount.

“We’re so blessed you’ve come to visit our town,” she smiled. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but would you consider giving a sermon here today?”

Everyone turned to look at Jesus, who was playing peek-a-boo with Zion. He quickly stood up and smiled back. “I appreciate your kind words, and yes, I would be honored to give a sermon.”

“Wonderful! I must warn you, though, the people here get quite pushy, if that’s something You’re bothered by.”

“Not at all,” Simon Peter blurted. “We’ll cover crowd control. Right, guys?”

Everyone agreed, except Thaddeus looked concerned. “What about Zion? He’ll be getting hungry soon, and I don’t think he will sit through a sermon.”

“I suppose we could spare you. . .” Simon Peter hesitated.

Mary quickly stepped forward. “I could look after him for you, if you’d like,” she offered. “It would be no bother.”

“Really?” Thaddeus looked delighted. “That would be great, thank you! Would you be willing to take him back to camp and get him some food?”

“Of course.” Mary smiled.

“Sounds great,” Simon Peter looked eager to get the show on the road, “but someone should accompany Mary back, just to be safe.”

No one stepped forward at first, which was understandable, because who would want to miss one of Jesus’s sermons?

Of course it was Matthew who finally spoke up. “I will accompany you, Mary.” he said shyly, toying with the edge of his tunic.

“Thank you, Matthew,” Mary beamed. “I appreciate it.”

Matthew blushed furiously and looked away.

While the others followed the women to the town square, Mary held out her hands to Zion, who happily allowed her to pick him up. Mary adjusted him on her hip and made sure she had her satchel.

“Shall we go?” She asked Matthew.

He nodded, and they began making their way back towards camp.

As they walked back towards the camp, Mary glanced at Matthew, who seemed to be nervously toying with the belt of his tunic. Little Zion was happily resting on her hip, occasionally reaching out to touch her hair or the fabric of her dress.

"Zion seems to have taken a liking to you," Matthew said softly, breaking the silence.

Mary smiled warmly. "He's a sweet little boy. Children always seem to bring out the best in people, don't they?"

Matthew nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yes, they do. They see the world with such innocence and wonder."

Mary looked at him, noticing the hint of shyness in his eyes. "You know, Matthew, you're really good with children too. I saw how patient you were the other day when those two little boys visited our camp."

Matthew blushed slightly, looking down at his feet. "Thank you, Mary. I. . . I just try to be kind and understanding. Sometimes I feel like I understand children better than adults."

Mary's expression softened. "That's a wonderful quality to have. It's not always easy to connect with others, but you have a special way of doing it."

Matthew looked up, meeting her gaze for a moment before quickly looking away. "I- I try my best. I just don't always know how to express myself."

Mary reached out and gently touched his arm, offering a reassuring smile. "You don't have to worry about that with me, Matthew. I appreciate your company and your kindness."

Matthew's heart raced at her touch, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort in her presence. "Thank you, Mary. That means a lot to me."

As they continued walking, Zion began to babble and point at a butterfly fluttering nearby. Mary laughed softly, adjusting Zion on her hip. "Look, he's fascinated by the butterfly."

They walked in comfortable silence for a while, enjoying the peacefulness of the moment. Mary glanced at Matthew, feeling a sense of warmth and connection. "I'm really glad you decided to come with me today, Matthew."

Matthew looked at her, his eyes filled with sincerity. "I'm glad too, Mary. Spending time with you is always enjoyable.”

She smiled back. “Likewise.”

By the time they returned to camp, Zion was cranky and fussy. Mary was quick to help him drink from a cup of water and serve him some bread and chopped figs, which he consumed hungrily.

After eating, he settled down and began to play with some scraps of cloth that Mary had offered him. She and Matthew sat to watch him.

Matthew pulled a tablet out of his bag, but he couldn’t stop watching the chubby toddler waving the rags around while giggling crazily.

Children were something he never really thought about. They were messy, careless, reckless- yet at the same time, carefree. They always saw the best in things and were so trusting.

He stole a glance at Mary’s contented face and knew she felt the same.

“Do you have siblings?” he suddenly asked, realizing it was one of the few topics he and Mary hadn’t discussed yet.

Mary shook her head. “Sadly, I don’t. I think my parents struggled enough with just one child,” a shadow came over her face, and Matthew wanted to kick himself. But a moment later she was smiling again. “What about you?”

“Oh, I have a sister,” he told her. “We didn’t play much growing up, but, I suppose it was pleasant having a sibling.”

“I would love to meet her someday, if she’s anything like you.” Mary replied. Matthew’s heart melted and he tried to compose himself. He crumpled his cloth in his fist and looked away.

Zion stood up abruptly and toddled over to Mary. “Pway!” He begged, tugging at her sleeve.

Mary beamed at him. “Alright. Will you bring me the red cloth?” she requested. Zion hurried to oblige.

“Thank you, Zion. Now can you bring the purple one to Matthew?”

Hearing his name, Matthew snapped out of his trance. He hoped Mary didn’t notice how intently he’d been staring at her. He awkwardly accepted the rag from Zion and thanked him.

Much to his surprise, Zion hugged his leg before running back to his pile of rags. Matthew stammered, unsure how to reciprocate. He held up his hand and tried to speak, but the toddler was gone. He looked at Mary, who was watching with an amused expression on her face.

Matthew cleared his throat, feeling a mix of embarrassment and joy. "He's. . . quite affectionate," he said quietly, still feeling the warmth of Zion's hug.

Mary smiled. "Yes, he is. Children are so pure in their expressions of love."

They both watched as Zion continued to play, his giggles filling the air with a sense of lightness. Matthew found himself relaxing in the moment, appreciating the simplicity of it all.

After a while, Zion grew tired and began to rub his eyes. Mary gently picked him up and rocked him in her arms. "I think it's nap time for this little one," she said softly.

Matthew nodded, watching as Zion's eyelids grew heavy. "I'll fetch a blanket," he offered, quickly retrieving one from their supplies.

He spread the blanket out on the ground, and Mary carefully laid Zion down. The toddler snuggled into the soft fabric and soon drifted off to sleep.

As they sat down beside him, Mary looked at Matthew with a thoughtful expression. "You know, it's nice to have a bit of quiet time," she said, glancing at Zion. "Sometimes I feel like we're always on the go."

Matthew nodded. "I agree. It's good to take a moment to just be still."

Mary chuckled softly. "Remember that time Nathanael tried to convince us that the best way to relax was to meditate while hanging upside down from a tree?"

Matthew smiled, a rare laugh escaping him. "Yes, and Andrew ended up with a headache from trying it."

They both laughed, the tension of the morning's events melting away.

“Well, they’ll likely be back soon, and they’ll be hungry.” Mary stood up and brushed off her dress.

“Um, may I help you?” Matthew asked, rising as well. “Cooking fascinates me,” he added shyly. “I’d like to learn more about it."

“Of course,” Mary smiled. “We can make vegetable soup. And I’ll fry up the leftover meat from yesterday.”

They got busy slicing vegetables and boiling water, while Zion dozed contently, his heart happy.

Chapter Text

The sun was beginning its descent, casting a golden glow over the town of Capernaum. The streets were empty, save for a lonely stroller occasionally passing by, and lanterns cast shadows onto the streets as the people prepared their homes for Shabbat.

Matthew and Mary Magdalene walked down the main street near the market, which was just closing.

Matthew glanced around, taking in the peaceful atmosphere. “It’s so quiet,” he remarked. “Hard to believe it was crammed with customers just hours before.”

Mary nodded, adjusting the basket of vegetables in her arms to a more comfortable position.

“Do you ever feel like. . .” Matthew hesitated. Mary looked at him curiously.

“. . . Maybe we don’t deserve this peace?” His words were heavy with unspoken regret.

Mary bit her lip. Matthew was a wonderful man, and she was overjoyed Jesus had called him. He had helped her in so many ways, both big and small. He could understand her struggles and relate; as he had experienced difficulties as well.

But Matthew was a doubter, too. He had no confidence in himself. Without reassurance, he struggled believing in his worthiness. She couldn’t count the dozens of times she had assured him. And she would do it a dozen more, but sometimes she wondered if her words truly reached him.

“Matthew,” she said gently, “if it weren’t for our pasts, we wouldn’t be here today. Every one of us has faults. The Messiah didn’t come to watch us all be perfect. Why do you expect to be perfect? I think you need to realize nobody is.”

Matthew flinched.

Mary continued. “You need to let go of your past, Matthew, or you can never have a future.”

“I can’t forget, Mary,” he looked away sadly, “I’ll never be able to.”

“I didn’t say forget. I said let go.”

He looked up and met her gaze.

“Without Him, we are worthless. But He gives us worth. He is the reason we have a future. So when you dwell in the past, instead of being mindful of the present, you aren’t expressing gratitude for the gift of forgiveness He has given us.”

Matthew looked shocked. “I. . . never thought about it like that.”

A gentle smile graced her lips. “No matter how much we mess up, Matthew, the Son still shines.”

After a moment, Matthew understood the metaphor and smiled. “Thank you, Mary,” he said softly. “You have helped me a lot.”

“I am only doing what He has done for me. Our past does not define us.”

The gentle glow of the setting sun cast long shadows across the empty street. Matthew and Mary continued their walk, the weight of their conversation settling into a thoughtful silence.

Matthew glanced at Mary, his mind racing with newfound thoughts. "Do you ever wonder what life would have been like if He hadn't called us?" he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of lingering doubt.

Mary smiled softly, her eyes reflecting the fading light. "I think about it sometimes. But then I remind myself that everything happens for a reason. We're here because we have a purpose, and He saw something in us worth saving."

Matthew nodded thoughtfully. "It's just... difficult to believe that we could be worthy of such grace."

"It's not about worthiness," Mary replied gently. "It's about love and forgiveness. He saw our potential, even when we couldn't see it ourselves."

As they walked, the stars began to twinkle in the darkening sky. The tranquility of the evening seemed to echo Mary's words, wrapping them in a sense of peace and understanding.

"Matthew," Mary said softly, breaking the silence, "I know it's not easy, but you have to trust that we're on the right path. Every step we take, every moment we share, brings us closer to the future He has planned for us."

Matthew took a deep breath, feeling a sense of resolve settling within him. "You're right, Mary. I need to have faith—not just in Him, but in myself as well."

Mary's smile grew warmer. "Exactly. And remember, no matter what challenges we face, we have each other for support. You're not alone in this journey."

With a renewed sense of hope, they continued their walk, the bonds of their friendship growing stronger with each step. As the night enveloped the town, the stars above seemed to shine a little brighter, a reminder that even in the darkest times, there was always the Son to guide them.

Chapter Text

The sound of singing continued to ring out loudly in the humble courtyard belonging to Lazarus of Bethany. The sun was beginning its descent, casting a golden glow over the village.

Inside, it was crazy. The men had laid aside their instruments, jumped up, and started dancing all at once. As always, Andrew was mocked mercilessly over his “four left feet” as he hopped and limped. Nathanael did his best to be dignified, while the others simply danced for fun. Matthew stood off to the side, observing it all with a smile on his face.

The women exchanged amused glances as the men frolicked like crazy. Martha gestured towards the kitchen, and they slyly made a quick getaway.

“Phew!” Tamar sighed when they were all in the kitchen. “I enjoy dancing, but not like that,” She leaned against the counter.

“It must have been something you put in the food, Martha,” Mary OB teased with a smile. “I’ve never seen the men behave like that before.”

Martha shook her head. “Could be,” she said. “I mean, I was so overwhelmed, doing it all alone. . .” she nudged her sister playfully.

“I already apologized!” Mary OB cried out, but she couldn’t help laughing. Everyone joined in.

“As chaotic as they can be sometimes,” Mary spoke, accepting a cup of water from Martha, “What would we do without them?”

“Hm,” Tamar swirled the water around in her cup, “sometimes I wonder.”

They all laughed again.

“I’m sure they’ve learned so much- all of you. Spending everyday with Him, and hearing His teachings!” Mary OB exclaimed; her eyes wide. “It must be wonderful.”

“It is,” Mary agreed softly, looking thoughtful. “Sometimes it’s easy to take it for granted, but we shouldn’t.” She looked around the kitchen. “This is an impressive room, Martha,” she complimented the sister of Lazarus, “you manage it well.”

“Oh, thank you,” Martha looked pleased, “it’s a pleasant room to work in.”

“Alright, ladies,” Tamar suddenly spoke, “time to spill the beans. Who’s your favorite dancer among the men?”

Martha laughed. “Honestly, they’re all so reckless! Look at Nathanael, trying to be so proper.” They all giggled as they watched the ex-architect get frustrated at the others for being so clumsy.

“What about you?” Tamar asked Mary OB.

“Oh,” she suddenly looked shy and blushed. “You know, maybe Thaddeus.”

Martha whirled to her sister. “Wait,” she exclaimed, “Mary, do you like Thaddeus?” she asked in disbelief.

“Um, no, of course not! We hardly know each other,” Mary OB smiled bashfully, “I just said he’s a good dancer.”

“Sure, sure.” Martha rolled her eyes. “I’ve heard that before.”

“Thaddeus is a kind person,” Tamar acknowledged, “but he’s much too. . . quiet for me. I prefer someone more outgoing.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Martha laughed, nudging her. She watched in amusement as Andrew attempted to waltz with John. “But he sounds just right for Mary.”

Tamar scoffed. “Are you serious? Haven’t you seen the way Matthew looks at her?”

Mary blushed. “Tamar, I-”

“No, no, she’s right! I see what you mean.” Martha nodded. “Poor, sweet Matthew. Smitten with a beautiful woman.”

“I don’t know about that,” Mary looked away with a short chuckle, tapping her fingers against her clay cup. She couldn’t deny that Matthew was sweet on her; his thoughtful gestures and long stares were unavoidable. But it wasn’t something she cared to discuss, especially if it was behind the third person’s back.

“What about you, Tamar?” Mary OB asked with a glint in her eye. “Have you got your eye on someone?”

Tamar looked thoughtful. “Out of these twelve, I wouldn’t say so. Of course, they are all handsome. I mean, look at Judas’s eyes.”

The others laughed. “They are a rather ethereal shade of blue,” Martha said with a snort.

“But back in Capernaum, when I was still selling flowers, I had a young man stop by my stand one day,” Tamar continued. “He bought a beautiful, exquisite bouquet of flowers; choosing even the more expensive ones. And then-” she paused dreamily, “he gave them to me.”

The women let out exclamations of delight.

“I’ve never forgot about that young man,” she admitted. “I wonder if I’ll ever see him again.”

“I hope you do.” Mary smiled softly.

Matthew walked in just then, looking up in surprise. “Oh, hello,” he squirmed uncomfortably under the gaze of the four women, “I was just, erm, coming to get some water.”

“Of course.” Martha shot a teasing glance at Mary before pouring a cup of fresh water and handing it to Matthew. He thanked her and left.

“I think he was coming to check on you.” Tamar nudged Mary playfully. Martha and Mary OB giggled.

“Tamar, you’re being ridiculous.” Mary looked away, but she was smiling.

“And you, Martha?” Mary OB beamed. “Care to share something with us?”

Martha shook her head. “Honestly, I’ve been so anxious lately, I haven’t had time to notice anyone. Hopefully that changes now.” She gazed gratefully out to the other room as Jesus came in with His imma. The apostles rowdily pulled Him into the dancing. “He helped me see things from such a different perspective. I could never express enough gratitude.”

The others nodded, looking thoughtful themselves.

"Well, as much as I enjoy our little chat, I think it's time we join the fun," Martha said after a moment, wiping her hands on her apron.

“Absolutely,” Tamar agreed, her eyes sparkling. “Come on, Mary.” She grabbed her hand.

Martha fell into place with Little James, who smiled gratefully, while Mary OB shyly stood off to the distance until Thaddeus beckoned her over. Smiling, she joined in. Tamar continued to keep time with a tambourine.

Mary approached Matthew with a gentle smile. He had been watching the dancing with interest but also appeared slightly disturbed by all the loud noises.

“Shalom, Mary.” He looked at her, relief evident in his eyes.

“Shalom,” she returned the greeting. Clearing her throat, she spoke up. “Matthew, I just wanted to thank you for earlier.”

He tilted his head curiously.

“You certainly didn’t have to carry the equipment for me,” she chuckled while he ducked his head, “but I really appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

Matthew was flattered. He fingered his handkerchief and nodded. “Y-you’re welcome, Mary, I am glad I was able to assist you. Their equipment is rather heavy.” He stated matter-of-factly.

Mary stepped a little closer. “I don’t just mean carrying the gear. I mean the way you supported me about my past. Seeing the Romans always terrifies me, and. . .”

Matthew gave her a comforting look. “I understand, Mary.” He spoke quietly, knowing she wasn’t keen on openly discussing her past with everyone.

She gave him a small smile. “I know you do.”

Chapter Text

Matthew sat against a tree, watching a few white, puffy clouds drift by. It was a warm afternoon, and he was struggling to keep his mind on the parchments in front of him.

“Hey, Matthew,” he looked up and saw Philip and Andrew stroll towards him.

“Shalom Philip, Andrew.” He replied, laying aside his writing materials. He could not, however, shake the confused expression from his face.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Questioned Andrew, plopping down next to him on the grass.

“Quite a bit, actually,” the former tax-collector was eager to share. “Based on the information I’ve gathered from Rabbi’s last sermon; it is likely the crowd size will double.”

“Hm, I don’t know,” Andrew grinned, “I think you’re thinking about Maaaaaaary.”

Matthew blushed and tilted his head a little. “Erm, not really, how come?”

The younger son of Jonah scoffed, fiddling with a blade of grass he’d plucked. “Look, I get you’re trying to be discreet, but eventually, you’ll have to come clean.”

“What do you mean?” Matthew asked, his heart beginning to race.

Philip crouched next to him, his brown eyes sparkling. “Well, it’s pretty natural for a guy to feel this way. And Mary’s a very kind woman. No one could blame you.”

“I- I’m sorry,” Matthew resisted the urge to jump up and begin to pace around. “Blame me for what, exactly?”

“For crushing on Mary,” Andrew grinned, not trying to be subtle in the least.

“Um, crushing?” The son of Alpheaus was confused.

Matthew knew enough to acknowledge that “a crush” meant someone liked another person, in a romantic way. He also had to admit that he felt something different towards Mary than anyone else before, but was it a crush? He had never experienced romantic feelings before, so how could he know what they felt like?

He finally cleared his throat and tried to speak. “I suppose it’s true I feel differently about Mary than any other woman,” he admitted slowly, “but I do not know if it is the same thing as what you call ‘crushing’, Andrew.”

“Look,” Philip said kindly, his ever- present headband helpfully keeping the hair out of his eyes, “I know it’s a lot to think about, but you’re doing great. Mary obviously cares for you a lot, so just keep being yourself.”

“You-you think she does? After my previous occupation, I’m inclined to believe you may be incorrect. Mary is kind to me, but like you already said; being a kind person is her nature. It may not be directed to me specifically.”

“Well, never mind if she likes you. Do you like her?” Andrew pressed.

Now Matthew did stand up, cautiously brushing the dirt off his tunic before beginning to pace around.

“I- I am not sure,” Matthew felt extremely uncomfortable discussing these things when his uncertainty was so severe.

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you that,” he finally admitted, “because I don’t know myself. I mean, how can I tell if I like a woman that way?”

“It’s pretty obvious,” Andrew chuckled; glad to supply an answer. “First, your palms will get all sweaty whenever she’s around. Then, your-”

“Sweaty palms sound very unpleasant,” Matthew said, frowning.

“-then,” Andrew said, not put off in the slightest, “you may have trouble eating. And, well, soon you won’t be able to sleep at night, because you wish she-”

“Alright!” Philip interrupted, chuckling. “Andrew, let’s save those, um, delicate topics for later,” he cleared his throat and squinted up at Matthew. “Your heart will tell you, Matthew, so just follow it.”

“Um, okay,” Matthew fingered his handkerchief and squinted. “Erm, how do you do that?”

“Well, you just chase it around,” Andrew grinned, causing Philip to shove him.

“In all seriousness, just be kind to Mary, but not so kind it is suspicious, or only directed towards her. If you’re kind to everyone else, she’ll notice.”

“Yes,” Matthew nodded slowly, “Mary does seem to notice everything. She is also kind to everyone, me included.”

“You see!” Andrew jumped up and thumped Matthew on the back, causing the latter to flinch. “You are in love with her!”

“Well, I, uh-” Matthew stammered. “I suppose you could be correct. But what if-”

“Look! Here come the others!” Philip exclaimed. “They’re back from market!”

“Great!" Andrew exclaimed, rubbing his hands together. “Okay, Matthew, now be kind to everyone, and hey, maybe ask for her hand!”

“Andrew!” Philip scolded, shaking his head. “Do not do that yet, Matthew.”

“I was not planning on it,” He replied. “But-”

But Philip and Andrew were gone.

Oh dear, he thought. What on earth would he do?

Chapter Text

“It looks like we have thirty people in our group, not fifteen,” Peter grimaced, staring at the massive pile of dishes overflowing out of the basin.

“That is very true.” Matthew nodded, pulling up the sleeves on his tunic gingerly. “Shall we begin?”

The two had been assigned to dishwashing that evening. Previously, Matthew would have cringed at the idea of washing dishes with Peter, who would have likely criticized his every move. Now that Peter had accepted his apology, Matthew actually found that spending time together was enjoyable.

They set to work; filling the basin with hot water heated above the campfire and added some soap. They each grabbed a rag and began scrubbing away.

“Hey, Matthew,” Peter began, frowning in disgust at a particular piece of crusty food dried onto a plate, “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

“Yes?” Matthew raised his eyebrows.

“The other day, I was remembering the time Mary left camp, and we went searching for her.”

Peter paused to listen to the peaceful chirping of crickets and firewood crackling quietly, while the consistent dripping of water into the basin lulled the others to sleep in their tents. Zee would be back whenever they finished to begin the first watch.

“Anyway, I know it’s been a while, but I just wanted to make sure you think she seems fine now. You seem like the guy to ask, seeing how you often chat with her and all.”

Matthew nodded. “I believe she is doing well, fortunately. As far as I’ve noticed, she hasn’t mentioned the topic of leaving since then. And she seems to be happy, aside from grieving Ramah.”

Peter rinsed a plate. “Good, good,” he cleared his throat, sneaking a sideways glance at Matthew, grinning slyly. “You still got a crush on her?”

Matthew blinked. “What?” He no longer found it dreadful speaking with Peter, but there were still some topics that were uncomfortable.

“You heard me. It was obvious from the beginning, and Andrew mentioned a chat you guys had a while ago.”

Matthew swallowed; his hands busy with a dish as he felt his face heat up. "Uh. . . Well. . . I mean, Mary is a good friend," he stammered, avoiding eye contact. He could feel Peter's gaze on him and the teasing smile creeping across Peter’s face. "It's. . . complicated, you know? I respect her a lot, and. . . I want her to be happy."

“Sure, sure.” Peter grinned. “You know, when I first met Eden, things were pretty awkward. But look at us now.”

Matthew glanced at him curiously. “How did you first meet her?”

“Well, at first, it was pretty. . . unexciting. We both collected water from the well around the same time of day-”

The former tax-collector frowned. “I thought only women collected water.”

“Well, yeah, normally. But this was after my parents passed away, and I was trying to care for Andrew. Anyway, somehow or another Salome- John and Big James’ imma- got to know Dasha; Eden’s mother. I was over at their house one day helping prepare some nets or something, and she just stopped by with her imma!”

Peter chuckled, shaking his head.

“So that went on for several weeks- maybe months, even. We saw each other at the well, and at parties, and we never even said shalom, we were so awkward.”

“Then what?” Matthew pressed, draining the basin a bit as it began to overflow.

“Well, eventually it got so bad, and I was dying to talk to her, so one time, at a party, I approached her.”

“And you had a strategy, yes? You planned something in attempt she’d notice you?”

“Stupidly, no. But the time I walked up in front of her, I realized I hadn’t even planned what to say. So, I just said the first thing that came to mind.”

“That is a handy map?” Matthew guessed, tilting his head.

“What? Um, no. Actually-” Peter chuckled again- “all I could think of was, “do you like cashews?”

Matthew gazed at him thoughtfully. “Huh. And what did Eden say in reply?”

“Oh, something about a recipe her imma used to make. . .” Peter gestured with his hands. “Anyway, the cashews weren’t the important part. It was that, after weeks and weeks, we were finally talking to each other. After that, we began courting.”

Matthew gulped. “That quickly?”

Peter wrinkled his nose. “That quickly!? It was months, man!”

“Well,” Matthew looked away shyly, “I have known Mary for almost three years, and. . .” he trailed off quietly.

“So you are still interested, eh? Hey, don’t worry about it. Sometimes things just take longer. The important thing is that you’re friends, right?” He looked at Matthew mischievously for a moment before leaning closer. “Although, let me give you some advice. If you truly want to win her heart, you can’t just keep talking like friends forever. You must make a move.”

“A move?” Matthew repeated. “What kind of move?”

“Any,” Peter shrugged. “Get her a gift, ask her to walk with you. . . anything, really. Anything besides something a friend would do.”

Matthew considered this, drying the last plate and ringing out his dishrag. “Okay,” he said hesitantly, “I suppose I could try.”

“Excellent.” Peter smiled, standing up. He examined his wrinkly fingers before drying them on a towel. “Now, we’d better get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.” He began to walk away.

“Um, Peter?”

“What?” He stopped mid-step and turned around.

“H-how did you know it was love? I mean, could you explain what specific signs or patterns made you realize it was different from just liking her? What if you were disappointed?”

“Well, the first thing was pretty basic- my heart rate would increase when she was around, my stomach would feel funny- that sort of thing. But, I suppose, after awhile, it became bigger things. I began prioritizing her happiness over mine, and seeing her happy made me happy. I hated seeing her in any kind of distress.

“And finally, I began envisioning a future with her. A marriage, house, kids. . .” he trailed off and sighed. “Anyway, does that help?”

“It does. A lot, actually. Thank you.” Matthew was deep in thought.

“Good,” Peter smiled tiredly. “Goodnight.” He blundered into his tent.

Matthew sat there a while longer, staring at the glowing flames as his mind raced.

******

The next day, as soon as he found a moment, Matthew bravely approached Mary, a determined expression on his face.

“Mary,” he stammered, “do you like cashews?”

Chapter Text

"Rise and shinnnnneeee!”

Matthew woke up with a jolt, the unmistakable sound of Andrew’s voice causing him to jump. He pulled on his tunic and crawled out of his tent. “Andrew,” he squinted, “why have you woken me up so early?” He titled his head.

Andrew flapped his hands excitedly. “Today’s the day, remember?! Jesus is going to give a sermon in the marketplace! To everyone listening, including the chief priests!”

Matthew blinked a few times in surprise. “I suppose I forgot,” he admitted. “But perhaps you could have woken us up with something less. . . Alarming?”

Andrew shrugged. “Eh, what would be the fun in that? Besides, you must admit, it’s better than Nathanael’s bucket.”

Matthew shuddered in agreement.

“Guys,” the aforementioned man approached them with a frown, “something’s wrong with Philip.”

“What’s up?” Andrew immediately looked concerned.

“He said he’s too tired to get up, and he can’t even think straight. I’m no professional, but he’s obviously sick.” Nathanael was worried.

“What’s wrong?” Mary Magdalene asked as she approached them. Anxious as he was about Philip’s well-being, Matthew couldn’t prevent himself from noticing how radiant Mary looked in the early morning rays.

“Something’s wrong with Philip,” Nathanael repeated, “he’s sick.”

“Will you show us?” Mary asked.

The four walked over to the tent Philip occupied, and the former architect ruffled the tent flap. “Philip,” he spoke loudly, “you okay?”

There was no reply, only a faint grown.

“Phil-” Nathanael started again, but Andrew shoved him aside. “Don’t knock!” He said impatiently. “We’ll just go right in!”

Matthew and Mary stepped back while the two others crawled in. They waited in silence for a moment before Andrew popped his head out.

“He’s definitely burning up,” Andrew shared. “Could you guys look for some willow bark? Nathanael said that could bring down his fever.”

“Of course,” Mary nodded, and she and Matthew began walking to a nearby grove of trees.

“I certainly hope Philip will be alright,” Matthew looked extremely worried. “He must be feeling very poorly.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine, Matthew,” Mary assured him. “Fevers, as long as they are treated quickly, don’t often cause serious harm.”

“Then we should find a tree quickly,” Matthew said with determination. Then he paused. “Um, Mary, I don’t recall ever seeing a willow tree.”

Mary gave him a quick smile. “I’m sure you have without realizing it. They aren’t too hard to find.”

Matthew glanced at her. “Then you know where to find them, yes?”

Mary nodded. “Let’s head toward the creek that Thaddeus discovered yesterday. Willow trees often grow near water; their roots need the refreshment.”

They set off walking slightly downhill, keeping their eyes peeled.

“I am slightly confused,” Matthew spoke. “I asked, when we were in the Decapolis, if mulberry trees can grow in the sea. Nobody answered me, but you are saying willow trees can?”

Mary looked thoughtful. “I guess I never really thought about it, so I’m unsure, but yes, willow trees can.”

“How can you identify a willow tree?” Matthew asked her curiously.

“Well, they are pretty noticeable. They grow in a downward motion, which is why some people call them ‘weeping willows’, since they look like they’re weeping.”

“Huh.” Matthew looked at her, fascinated. “That’s interesting. What else?”

“Hmm.” Mary smiled absentmindedly. “The bark, which is what we’re hunting for, is a greenish-brown color. It’ll likely be rough, but smoother if it’s a young tree. Oh, and the leaves are normally shaped like a lance, or a dagger. During the summer, the leaves produce tiny green flowers, called catkins.”

Matthew stared at her. “How do you know so much about willow trees, Mary?”

She shrugged modestly. “I don’t really know; I just. . . Learned, I suppose.” She answered in her gentle voice. “I had a friend interested in nature; she studied bushes and shrubs. Maybe I just picked it up from her.”

“Nature is very fascinating,” Matthew acknowledged, “although I don’t know much about it.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Mary winked at him, “I think you already know enough about vegetables- especially corn.”

Matthew chuckled, understanding for the first time.

“Oh, look,” Mary pointed, “there- do you see it?”

Matthew looked ahead. “Growing near water, greenish-brown bark, lance shaped leaves. . . It must be a willow tree?” he asked excitedly.

“That’s right.” Mary found his excitement precious. They stripped a few handfuls of bark off the tree (Mary reassured Matthew it wouldn’t hurt the tree, if they didn’t take too much) and placed it carefully in a burlap cloth.

“Alright,” Mary brushed off her hands, “we should hurry back and get this brewing.”

They walked quickly back to camp and placed a pot of water over the fire. By now, several of the others had woken up, and everyone was concerned about Philip.

While Little James and Thomas assisted Tamar with breakfast, Matthew and Mary busily chopped up the bark, rinsed it, and steeped it with the hot water. After a while they strained it, and Mary handed the cup to Matthew. “Let’s take it to them,” she smiled.

As they approached, they could still hear Andrew talking quietly to Philip, who was still in a state of confusion caused by his fever.

“Hand it over,” Andrew said quickly, too anxious to bother about manners. He took the cup and, with Matthew’s help, sat Philip up and helped him drink some of the tea.

After a while, Andrew came back to the campfire where everyone else was gathered. “He drank all the tea, but he still has quite the temperature, and of course it’s affecting his appetite.”

“Don’t worry, little brother,” Simon patted his shoulder consolingly, “you’re doing a great job caring for him. But the rest of us should start getting ready. We’re supposed to meet Rabbi in town in one hour.”

They all started quickly packing up, while Andrew grabbed Matthew. “Hey, since you and Mary are already helping me out, can you go try to find some berries? Ramah said we’re out. If we make a jam, Philip might eat some on bread.”

Matthew agreed, finding Mary and some baskets. It took them awhile to find any bushes producing fruit, though.

“Here’s one!” Matthew called to Mary, who was a little distance away. “They might be poisonous, though.”

Mary nodded, coming over to where he stood. She crouched close to the bush, examining the bushes. “They are poison,” she frowned, wiping her fingers on her shawl. “We’ll have to keep looking.”

As they continued, Matthew asked Mary how to determine if berries were poisoned or not.

“White, green, or yellow berries are almost always toxic,” she informed him. “With red ones, you sometimes have to take your chances. Sometimes they have a bad smell,” Mary patiently explained.

“I have much to learn,” Matthew told her, "I must say, it’s rather humiliating at times not knowing these things.”

“It’s alright, Matthew. You never really had a reason to learn, is all.” Mary quickly dismissed the subject, giving him a smile.

After some time, they found some berries which looked edible and took them back to camp.

Andrew emerged from Philip’s tent. “Everyone else went into town already,” he informed them.

“Alright. Would you like me to start the jam?” Mary offered.

“I can do it, actually. Philip taught me how, several years back. We preferred jam- even if it was a little tart- to locusts and honey.” Andrew smiled briefly, “thanks, though. If you guys hurry, you might catch up with the others.”

“Are you sure you’re alright here alone with Philip?” Matthew asked.

“Yeah.” Andrew nodded. “I think it’ll be fine.”

"Sounds fine, then. Shalom shalom,” Mary gave him a brief smile, and she and Matthew started heading to town.

********

Only a few days later, Philip was completely healthy once again, radiating with joy and his usual friendliness. He approached Matthew one evening to thank him.

“Andrew told me about the willow bark tea and jam,” he smiled. “I’m real glad I got sick.”

Matthew cocked his head in confusion. “Why would you rejoice over your illness?” He wondered.

“Because you got to spend some quality time with Mary,” Philip grinned. “I bet you enjoyed that.”

Matthew immediately blushed. “Erm, you’re welcome?”

Philip chuckled. “You should be thanking me, buddy,” He gave him a friendly pat on the back. “It’s not everyday you get to go berry picking with your favorite lady.”

Chapter Text

The apostles sat gathered around the campfire, listening to the popping sound of firewood and crickets chirping.

“Peter,” Andrew said out of the blue, “where do goats come from?”

Peter almost choked on his water and stared at his brother. “Where do. . . What?!”

He shrugged. “I’ve just been thinking about goats lately. Wondering what place they originate from.”

John burst out laughing. “Goats?! You’re just sitting here thinking about goats?”

Peter chuckled. “Well, that sounds like a question for. . . What did Philip call him? Our smart young friend?”

Philip smiled. “Yep. That would be Matthew.”

Matthew immediately snapped out of his trance. “Oh, um, goats come from Iran. Why are you wondering, Andrew?” He titled his head.

Andrew threw up his hands. “I don’t know, I was just thinking, okay?! Why does it matter?”

“Because we’re all sitting here thinking about going into Jerusalem and escaping from Pharisees who are hunting down Jesus, and you’re studying the origins of goats!” Peter drawled.

“Look, I’m not studying on it, okay, it just came to mind! And I just said it without thinking!”

“Yeah right,” Peter rolled his eyes, “you never do things without thinking. You probably decided whether you should say something or not twenty minutes ago.”

“For the record, Peter,” Andrew glared at his brother, “twenty minutes ago, we were still eating supper.”

“Ahh, and you were too busy eating that awful stew Zee made? No offense, Zee.”

The former Zealot simply shrugged. “I’ll admit it wasn’t delicious. We had potatoes and lamb so I made stew. Mary deserves a break sometimes.”

Matthew immediately nodded. “I second that. Cooking a meal for fourteen people- not including herself- is a great task for someone to perform, especially since Tamar is currently sick and unable to help. We should help Mary more. In fact, it may be prudent to have a schedule. I would be happy to keep the records-”

“-Have you ever tried my cooking, Matthew?” Peter interrupted. “I don’t think Mary wants my help.”

“Nowadays are meals are pretty simple,” Mary said quietly. “Just bread and fruit; some fish occasionally. They’re not hard to prepare.”

“But having a hot supper is great,” Nathanael argued. “Thaddeus, why do I have a feeling you’d make a great cook?”

“Hm?” Thaddeus raised his eyebrows. He chuckled a little. “I mean, I think cooking is. . . Alright. Are you trying to sign me up for duty?”

Nathanael shrugged. “Never said that. Thomas, you were a caterer before you met Jes-”

“I’d rather not talk about that,” Thomas said immediately, looking away. He was already struggling to sit there knowing one less person was beside him.

Peter quickly cleared his throat. “Ah, Matthew, how about a joke?”

“Me?” Matthew looked baffled.

Peter grinned, remembering the day Matthew was called. “You.” He quoted.

“I don’t have a joke. Um, do you?”

“Sure.” Peter grinned, and everyone predicted trouble. "Here’s one- why did Matthew keep staring at Mary?”

Matthew was horrified and nearly choked on air, but as usual, he took the joke literally and knew a response was in order.

“Er, why?” He mumbled, causing everyone to laugh even harder.

“I don’t know, you tell me!” Exclaimed Peter.

Mary could tell Matthew was feeling uncomfortable. “Um, what kind of tree fits in your hand?” She quickly asked, trying to invert their attention.

Everyone looked at her in anticipation.

“A palm tree.” She smiled softly, glad they all laughed and seemed to forget about pestering Matthew.

The former tax collector swept her an almost invisible glance that spoke gratitude. He pulled out a stylus and a parchment and began scribbling away.

A moment later, he spoke again, unaware he was making himself a direct target for teasing. “I’m writing up a schedule,” he shared eagerly. “For helping Mary prepare meals. Would anyone like to go first?”

Philip smiled. “Why don’t you go first, Matthew?”

“Um, alright,” Matthew wrote down his name. “How about tomorrow?”

Judas raised his hand. “I could, I suppose.”

“Alright,” Matthew nodded at Judas before jotting down more words. “And the day after?”

Thomas knew Ramah would have volunteered immediately. “I will,” he said quietly.

“Excellent.” Matthew looked a little surprised, albeit pleased. “That books us out three days from now. We can plan again then.”

Peter looked impressed. “Not bad at all, Matthew.”

Mary smiled. “I agree, thank you for your willingness, Matthew.” She gave him a lingering smile before glancing around at them all. “The help will be wonderful.”

“Just. . . Doing what I can.” Matthew stammered awkwardly.

“We could plan meals, too, if we want to get specific.” Nathanael threw in.

“I suppose that’s true,” Matthew nodded. “So, Mary, any ideas what we could make tomorrow?”

“How about roasted goat?” Peter grinned, shoving Andrew.

“Cut it out, would you?”

“Sure, sure, I’ll carve the meat,” Peter laughed. Andrew groaned and rolled his eyes.

“Should we go to market tomorrow for supplies?” Big James suggested.

“We probably have enough ingredients here,” Mary offered. “I’ll check.”

“I’ll come with you,” Matthew stood up. “I can take inventory of what we have and analyze what we need.”

Mary smiled and led him over to a small crate, where they kept their supply of provisions.

“Let’s see. . . We have about a dozen potatoes, a small section of lamb, and a few handfuls of pistachios. We will definitely have to stock up in a couple days, if not sooner.”

“Noted.” Matthew stood up. “I, um, don’t know much about cooking.”

“I don’t think many of the men do,” Mary smiled. “Just watch and you’ll learn.”

“Alright. Thank you, Mary.”

“Thank you,” she replied. “This is going to make the work a lot easier.”

Chapter Text

The large, sprawling, well-decorated house gave Matthew plenty of opportunities for exploring. He was accustomed to large houses and rooms, after living in one himself, but this one was even more elaborate, somehow.

Still, exploring didn’t suit his feelings at the moment. He sat by a window quietly, looking over a few of his parchments but not really reading the words.

Everything was happening so quickly that he barely had time to adjust, let alone think. One moment everyone was smiling, the next they were all reduced to tears. It was one of those times when you weren’t sure whether to laugh or cry. The latter seemed like the more practical thing, though.

For once, the little and foolish squabbles- the topics being nature, which foods tasted better, who could run faster- which seemed to always follow the apostles were gone. When they weren’t chatting quietly- or arguing loudly- about the things Jesus was saying, they mostly spent time alone, reflecting. But truthfully, they weren’t even sure what to reflect on.

Standing up, Matthew shoved his parchments into his bag before wandering around the house. It was mostly empty. Sensing a presence behind him, he turned and saw Mary Magdalene walk in, head down.

When she came closer, she looked up and saw him, but for once did not smile. She simply sighed and shrugged, looking away. “So, this is soon.” She said, her voice low.

Matthew nodded, swallowing. “Yes.” He whispered, his voice barely audible. “All those times we wondered, or fought about it, or- or even were angry about it, we no longer have to wonder.”

“Normally, when we hear the word soon, we anticipate it with excitement.” Mary slowly sat down on a low bench, and Matthew followed suit. “But now. . .” She finally looked at him with tear-filled eyes. “I don’t want it to ever come.”

“But it isn’t about what we want, surely.” Matthew replied quietly. “Time will continue to pass, whether we want it to or not, or if we try to prevent it from happening. It’s the way things are.”

Despite everything, Mary couldn’t help but give a small smile, thinking of how far Matthew had come. Here he was, teaching her, no longer the sulky, terrified man who constantly came to her for reassurance.

“You’re correct, but I can’t help wanting it. It just makes me wish I hadn’t taken those moments for granted- my first Shabbat dinner, the dinner party at your old house, those simple moments on the road, even running from the Pharisees.” She chuckled, shaking her head. “And we’ll never see those times again.”

Matthew looked at her curiously. “How- how do you know that?”

Mary sighed and looked at him. “Oh, Matthew, can’t you see what’s happening? This- this is going to be it.”

“It?” Matthew repeated.

“I don’t even know, exactly, what ‘it’ is, but. . . I have a feeling. A terrible feeling.”

“I know you are right, but nonetheless, it’s so difficult to accept it. I’m also yearning for simpler times.”

Mary let out a tearful laugh. “Remember the time you were chopping wood and cut your finger?”

Matthew sniffed and smiled, nodding. “Yes, of course. That was a rather hard memory to repress.”

“Or when I left camp, and you and Peter came to find me.” She gazed at him. “It was hard, of course, but it only made me realize where I truly belong.”

He gave another nod. “I recall that, too. It seems so long ago.”

Mary considered it. “About three years, somehow. And look how much we’ve grown.”

“Do you think it’s wrong to long for past times, Mary?” He asked curiously. “Should we not be focused on the present moment, as well as the future?”

“I don’t think there is anything wrong with it, exactly. I mean, look at Torah. In every reading, we are remembering the past. It simply means we were grateful for those times. And without a past, we cannot have a future,” She shrugged. “But, I agree, right now being aware seems more important then ever. I’m afraid of missing something.”

“I’m sure you will not, Mary.” Matthew folded his hands. “I’ve been watching you, and you seem to be very aware of what’s been happening.”

Mary gazed at him, and he immediately shifted uncomfortably. “I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that; I just meant I’ve noticed how closely you’ve been paying-”

She gave a small smile. “No, it’s fine, I know what you meant. It’s just. . . Jesus said something similar to me, when we were celebrating the Feast of Dedication. Of course I am watching, but. . . I fear this will only make whatever is to come much harder.”

Matthew raised his eyebrows. “I wish I could understand. I mean, surely He has been speaking in metaphors, yes? Of the things He’s been telling us? Do you know?”

Swallowing, Mary shook her head. “You have the answers right in front of you, Matthew,” she looked at him, hoping he would understand. “You just need to figure out what they mean.”

He leaned forward, frowning. “Figure it out? Mary, you know I am bad at metaphor. I just wish someone would help me understand what it means-"

Mary cut him off. “Matthew, Jesus has not been speaking in metaphors.” A tear slipped down her check, and he stared at her in realization. Her voice dropped lower. “What He’s been saying- it’s about to happen.”

He sucked in his breath, rubbing his neck. “But- but, I do not understand; someone has always helped me understand, whether it be Jesus, or Philip, or you, or. . . What should I do?!”

“There’s only one thing you can do, I think,” Mary seemed hesitant to admit it. “Just. . . Keep following. Our understanding will come later, as Jesus has said.”

“I just don’t like not knowing what the future holds, Mary.”

“Nobody does, Matthew. But we have Jesus, and we have each other. That is enough.”

Matthew nodded and took a deep breath, trying to calm down. He looked at Mary, his own eyes tear-filled. “T-thank you, Mary,” he whispered quietly. “For all the times you’ve supported me, and helped me, and. . . For being my friend. Even when no one else would be.”

“Likewise.”

He titled his head, confused. “What do you mean?”

“You didn’t look at my past with scorn, like some others. You didn’t recoil in disgust at my previous life, where I lived, what I did. You’ve always been so supportive, and I am so grateful.”

His eyes widened. “I thought you were the only one who did that.”

She laughed quietly. "The only way we’ve ever looked at each other is with compassion, not judgement. And that’s what Jesus taught us to do.”

For a moment, Matthew looked away, deep in thought. He realized Mary was right- their pasts did bring them together- or rather, the way they walked away from them did. Awkwardly, he extended his arms to her, eyebrows raised in a silent question.

She reciprocated and leaned forward, and they embraced gently, albeit somewhat awkwardly. But it was that awkwardness which had kindled their friendship, anyway, so they wouldn’t have known what to do without it.

Chapter Text

"What’s the most important thing to know when pruning an olive grove?” Thaddeus wanted to know as they trekked along the dusty road. “I must admit, I haven’t the slightest idea how to go about it. I’ve never done it before.”

“Hm, well, based on what I’ve noticed, it’s important to make sure not to pick the unripe ones, even if it’s tempting to when you’re right there,” Ramah looked thoughtful.

“Don’t layer them too much in the baskets. They could rot if we leave them.” Tamar added in.

The sun was shining as the six- Ramah, Tamar, Mary Magdalene, Thaddeus, Andrew, and Matthew- walked to the olive grove, carrying baskets and the other harvesting supplies they needed.

“Can’t say I know much about pruning,” Andrew, happy-go-lucky as always, said with a grin. “But I’ll help if there’s free samples.”

“Oh, and remember what Zebedee told us,” Mary suddenly remembered. “We should remove any branches that are dead or growing vertically.”

The others nodded, while Andrew sighed, shaking his head. “Can you guys believe what happened back there? Simon- er, Peter- forgave Matthew!”

“It’s fantastic,” Thaddeus clapped him on the back, “you must be proud of him.”

“Eh, sort of,” Andrew shrugged, chuckling. “I’m more glad I don’t have to hold him back during arguments anymore. I forgave him a while ago. I just didn’t say anything.”

Ramah smiled. “It’s a wonderful thing to see. He’s come a long way,” pausing, she laughed. “Both of them, I suppose.”

They all glanced over their shoulders to see Matthew dawdling behind, deep in thought. Mary stopped walking. She tilted her head and waited for him to catch up while the others went ahead. “Matthew,” she said gently, “is something wrong?”

Matthew cleared his throat, visibly confused. “No,” shaking his head, he paused. “It’s just. . . something is right.”

Mary smiled. “Peter forgave you.”

Matthew nodded. “That he did. I am not exactly sure how it happened, but, it’s. . . over.”

“Have you recently asked again for forgiveness, or did he do it at random?”

Matthew paused. “I did not ask for forgiveness; I apologized. Jesus said we don’t apologize to get forgiveness, but to repent. Forgiveness is something Peter can give- or not give. The other day, he seemed deeply unsettled when I spoke to him. But apparently, he changed his mind.”

Mary smiled. “Perhaps he talked to Jesus about it.”

Matthew looked at her, the corner of his mouth ticking up in a smile. “Yes.”

Shortly after, they arrived at the olive grove, which was showing slow signs of improvement thanks to Zebedee’s hard work and effort.

After donning their supplies and doing a quick walkthrough to ensure no damage had occurred since their last visit, the six began to work. Thaddeus worked carefully while observing the way Tamar and Ramah pruned the branches, cutting off the dead ones and picking the overly ripe olives.

Andrew, when he wasn’t busy sneaking olives, worked next to Matthew and Mary, humming to himself. He couldn’t believe the way all the puzzle pieces were fitting together- Zebedee, the father of the boys he grew up playing with, had fished all his life. Then, his sons, and the sons of Jonah, had left behind their nets to follow Jesus. Now Zebedee was dropping his own nets, for a different occupation but same goal: supporting the ministry. Slowly, the purchase of the olive grove was proving to be worth it.

“Mary,” Matthew began after a few minutes of silence. “I. . . must confess something. I still struggle with my past, every day. Even serving the ministry is a reminder of it, since my past is what led me here. And Peter’s forgiveness is yet enough reminder.”

“But a good one, no? We often tempt ourselves to think we’re strong. It’s better to know we’re weak. Like I have told you before, without a past, we can’t have a future.” Mary told him. She watched Matthew carefully slice through a withered branch, tilting her head thoughtfully. “You know, Matthew,” she tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear, “just like we remove the dead branches, we must let go of our pasts. If we hold onto them, they weigh us down. But when we cut them away, we’re not harming them. We’re making space for new leaves.”

Matthew paused, slowly understanding the metaphor, which didn’t occur often. “So, forgiveness is like pruning,” he began hesitantly. “When Peter forgave me, he wasn’t just cutting away the resentment, he- he was making room for new growth?”

“Yes, exactly,” Mary beamed at him, “that’s a wonderful way to look at it.”

“Huh.” He glanced at her with a shy smile before looking down at the freshly pruned branches scattered on the ground. Bending down, he picked one up, observing the withered bark carefully.

“It’s gone, yes,” Mary nodded. “But the tree will grow stronger. And you will too.” She smiled.

Matthew was about to respond when he glanced over at Andrew, who picked a handful of olives before tossing them in his mouth. “Andrew, perhaps we should save the olives for the anointing oil, instead of consuming them.”

Andrew shrugged. “Just making sure they’re good.” he responded, mouth full.

The other three walked over, brushing off their hands. “That’s all of them, I believe. Zeb said he’ll come gather the dead branches later to burn them.” Ramah told them.

“We should have brought some water,” Tamar sighed, wiping her brow. “Let’s head back to the Mission House and get some.”

The others nodded in agreement, gathering up the tools again before heading back towards the gate. Matthew silently stood before the pile of discarded branches, tilting his head. He picked one up and examined it thoughtfully, and then, for the first time, let it go, tossing it aside with quiet acceptance.

Peter was right.

It was over.

Chapter Text

Matthew paced around the camp.

Then again.

And then again.

His mind raced as he tried to process everything that had happened in the past hour- Jesus being arrested. The fight that broke out. Andrew storming off to Jotapata; Philip hot on his heels. The way they had all squabbled, upsetting Jesus’s mother. And perhaps worst of all, the way John lashed out at Mary. And the way Big James nodded in agreement.

Had Matthew meant to say anything? Absolutely not. The words had slipped out before he could even think. He hadn’t been the only one to defend her- Ramah had, too. But John had turned to Matthew, tone accusing.

“Suddenly, he has a voice. When it’s about her!”

The words rang in his head. What was that supposed to mean, anyway? Wasn’t it good he hadn’t been arguing like the others? Was defending Mary not the right thing to do?

Somehow or another, his thoughts led him over to the campfire.

Mary Magdalene sat there, measuring out some tea leaves while Ramah carefully poured a cup of boiled water. Ramah looked up and gave him a small smile, but Mary remained still, staring into the flickering flames which did little to ward off the brisk air.

After the former vintner stood and walked away with the cup of tea, Matthew shifted nervously. He scratched the back of his neck. He fiddled with his handkerchief. He stepped a little closer.

“Mary?”

She blinked a couple times, looked up, and gave him a tight-lipped smile, along with a quick nod. Swallowing, she turned back to the tea leaves, measuring them with more precision than was likely required.

He tried again. “Mary, are you alright?”

She turned to him again, tilting her head. “I’m fine, Matthew,” another nod. “Thank you for asking.”

She was fine. She had smiled at him. Genuinely? No. But her body language- clearly not interested in conversing- indicated that everything was absolutely not fine.

Matthew began to walk away. Clearly, he was unneeded right now. A burden, even. Mary had the women to speak with if she needed.

But he turned around anyway.

“John should not have said that,” he suddenly blurted, somewhat loudly. He raised his index finger slightly as though stating an unheard-of observation.

Mary set down the burlap sack of tea leaves, staring at him with an expression as though he’d just told her something stupidly obvious.

Blushing, he shifted again. Obviously, Mary knew that. Everyone knew that. Even John himself, hopefully.

After a moment Mary cleared her throat, starting to clean up her work again. “We all say things we shouldn’t when we’re mad,” she remarked quietly, eyes darting around. “It’s just been. . . a long day.”

He felt awkward, but he stood his ground. “Mary, my question remains. Are. . . are you sure you’re alright? I can surmise, after seeing what happened, that you’re likely very perturbed right now.”

Mary brushed off her hands and gave another small smile. “I mean, I suppose it’s slightly upsetting what John said, but. . . mostly I’m just concerned about our Rabbi.”

Matthew cocked his head. “He said He’ll be back, yes?”

She looked him directly in the eye. “I have no doubt He’ll be back. It’s upsetting to see, yes, but everything will be fine. However. . . Clearly, some of the others don’t agree. It’s just kind of hard to see that this is how we treat each other- arguing and spewing cruel words- when we should really be supportive and comforting each other,” Mary gave a small shrug. “But, that’s the way it is, I suppose.”

“Well, it certainly shouldn’t be.”

Mary didn’t answer. Not right away.

She watched the flames dance, her eyes unreadable, fingers still and slightly curled as if she might reach for the tea leaves again but couldn't bring herself to.

Matthew stayed where he was. Silent. Present.

Then Mary’s voice, soft but firm: “There’s always someone looking for a reason to dismiss me.”

He blinked, startled. “Dismiss you?”

She looked up again—this time not with a forced smile, but something quieter. Resigned, maybe. “It’s like some don’t trust that I belong here. That I only follow Him out of. . . weakness. Or naivety.”

“That’s not true,” Matthew said quickly, taking a step forward. “I know it isn’t. He chose you. That means something.”

There was a long pause before a flicker of hope crossed her face and she gave a small smile- actually genuine, this time, though still hurt- and said, “it means everything.”

The wind picked up slightly, rustling the canopy of branches overhead. Mary pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders.

Matthew hesitated again, and then sat down slowly near the fire, leaving a respectful gap between them. “I don’t think you’re weak. Or naïve. I- I think you’re braver than most of us.”

“Well, it’s not about me.”

Matthew’s brow furrowed slightly.

“It never has been,” eyes fixed ahead, she continued. “John’s words- hurtful, yes- are just a reminder that they come from pain. We’re all shaken. Some speak carelessly when we’re afraid.”

Matthew nodded slowly, trying to understand.

Mary looked over and offered a brief glance, softer now. “Thank you, Matthew. For speaking up.”

The silence that followed wasn’t tranquil, yet not as turbulent as before. As they sat there, Matthew knew Mary was right- everything would be alright.

The four words would be fulfilled.

Chapter Text

The bustling streets were a perfect example of Matthew’s current inner turmoil- busy, panicked, and only focused on one thing. For the people in the market, that one thing was shopping- rushing out, bartering over the best produce possible, and hurrying home, without a minute to spare. In Matthew’s case, he wasn’t concerned about himself in the slightest. He was only concerned about Mary.

Well, this was only partially true. The dreadful sense of fear of being recognized- someone who would associate him as their former tax collector, and accuse him- never failed to linger, although he barely acknowledged it today. Who cared what the others thought?

He hurried along quickly, occasionally checking to make sure he was still headed in the correct direction.

Another thing weighing on his mind- although not nearly as heavy as the former- was Simon. Simon, who actually had seemed to. . . Listen to Matthew? Did the older bar Jonah actually take his words in consideration, and further more, agree to them? Matthew believed he had proven a good point, but at the moment he couldn’t care less about proving Simon wrong. The important thing was, Simon had agreed to his plan, and they were now going in opposite directions; looking for Mary.

The words of the burly man at the public house confirmed Matthew’s suspicions- Mary had been at the tavern. Where she was now, he had no idea. Perhaps, feeling sick and exhausted, she hadn’t made it far, and was somewhere close. Or maybe she made the decision by herself to go back, and was now rushing back to camp. If she returned alone, would the others send word she’d been found?

Perhaps he was thinking too hard. Matthew paused for a moment, adjusting his tunic slightly before gripping his handkerchief more tightly. He looked around, hoping for a glimpse of light blue, but saw nothing, only the other townsfolk occasionally passing him. He considered asking one of them- a kindly woman, maybe, or even a couple children. But it was a foolish thought- dozens of people were passing through the streets. Asking if they’d seen a particular one seemed foolish.

Matthew kept walking, wondering if Simon had had better luck. Suddenly he heard a voice- so faint and hesitant he wondered if he’d just imagined it- but when he turned to see who had called his name, his eyes widened immediately.

“Mary!” He said softly, hurrying forward. He could hardly believe his eyes. Was this- could this really be her? Eyes half closed, head uncovered, slumped over on the bench. But no matter- yes, this was Mary. And he had found her.

“I thought I was dreaming you,” Mary mumbled, looking at the ground. “What are you doing here?" In spite of her sluggish state, she looked confused.

“Looking for you,” Matthew replied, eyes not leaving her face. “Well, Simon and I, that is.”

“Why?"

Shifting uncomfortably, Matthew’s heart lurched. Why? Why?! Did Mary really think they would just watch her leave and not care in the slightest? Of course he would come find her!

“Mary,” he began speaking in a gentle tone, “we have to go back.”

“No, no,” Mary shook her head, eyes still fixed on the ground. “He already fixed me once,” she made eye contact with him for the first time. “And I. . . I broke again.”

Matthew swallowed. How he wished, in that moment, he was more like the others! Blessed with the gift of assuring others; easy to talk to, perhaps one who could quote a bit of Torah that would come in handy at the moment.

What he didn’t realize that he was the perfect person to be in that situation with her- because he saw her as she truly was. Forgiven. Made whole. And maybe, like him, was so overwhelmed by the gift of redemption that she wasn’t sure what to do with it. Or get it back.

“I can’t face him,” Mary spoke again, as if reading his thoughts. Tears came to her eyes.

Maybe Mary didn’t need a person who was good at consoling. Or someone who could recite half of Torah. Maybe she just needed someone to be vulnerable, as he often did. It was worth a try.

Summoning up his courage, he took a small step closer, adjusting the strap of his bag. “I’m a bad person, Mary,” he began, clearly his throat awkwardly.

For a moment, he saw a flicker of the Mary he knew and loved- eyes darting up, frown deepening, quick to correct him, as she always did when his self-esteem was low. “Matthew. . . “

“No.” He shook his head, gently interrupting. “My whole life, all for me. Not once did I think of others- unless it was about whether their taxes were overdue or not. No empathy. No faith.”

Mary took his words into consideration. “I do have empathy for others. And faith, in Him. Just not in me.” She shrugged again, looking away.

Matthew sighed, brow furrowed, pondering his next move. Clearly, he had to be careful choosing his words. He didn’t want to offend Mary, or worse, make her feel ashamed.

“Mary, I’m learning more about Torah and God, because of you,” he took a tiny step closer with each word. He knew what it was like to feel uncomfortable by others. He knew he had to keep his distance. “I’m studying harder now, everyday, because you’re such a great student. You- you inspire me, Mary.”

A tiny smile spread over her lips, just enough to give him some encouragement. "And- and I know I haven’t mentioned it before, but. . . You also stand up for me, Mary, and others. I certainly don’t deserve it, yet you do it anyway,” His eyes were earnest. “And, by learning more about Torah, and reading it with sincerity, I’m beginning to realize there’s more to redemption than I realized.”

Mary looked away, taking a deep breath, but he could tell she was listening.

He decided to remind her of the others. “And Ramah is beginning to read and write, because of you. She’s already making wonderful progress, because of you.”

Tilting her head, Mary squinted. “I think. . . Anyone could teach her to read.”

“It doesn’t matter who could or couldn’t, Mary. The fact is that you do,” Matthew said firmly. He had sat down next to her without even realizing until he felt the rotting wood beneath him. “And you do it with patience, too.”

She let out a small laugh, but then her eyes widened slightly and she quickly jerked forward suddenly, getting sick.

Matthew was up in a second, yanking the handkerchief from his neck without a second thought. Wrapping it around his hands hastily so as not to touch her hair, he did his best to keep it out of his face while she leaned forward.

“It’s alright, Mary,” he assured her. “It’s alright.” He swallowed, face etched with concern.

After a few moments, Mary finally cleared her throat and tried to sit up, eyes still closed. Awkwardly, but with more empathy he’d ever shown anyone else, he reached forward and brushed the hair out of her face, then handed her the handkerchief.

Eyes downcast, Mary took it, hurriedly wiping her mouth, still coughing.

“I- I will find you some water, alright?” He began to stand up.

“No- wait, please,” Mary looked up, although her eyes were still squinting. “Will you. . . Stay here?”

Matthew tilted his head. “Mary, I am concerned about your wellbeing. I’m sure you’re very parched, and-”

“I’m fine, Matthew,” she interrupted, coughing again. “Just. . . Please stay here with me.”

“Alright.” He was slightly confused, but he sat, eyes still wide with worry. His heart was strangely warmed as he pondered her words. Did she really want him to stay next to her? Were his words comforting after all?

After a moment, he sighed. “Well, I- I suppose we better wait here for Simon. Unless you want me to go find him.”

“No, no,” Mary shook her head. “It’s fine, we can wait.”

“Alright.” He cleared his throat, wondering what to say next. He considered asking Mary if she’d prefer to find a more pleasant place to sit, perhaps somewhere in the sunshine or more fresh air. But she’d asked him to stay there, so stay there he would.

“You- you and Simon came to look for me?” Mary suddenly asked quietly, jerking him out of his thoughts.

“Yes. Rabbi sent us,” he spoke, nodding rapidly. “And I- I’m very glad we found you. Or, that I found you, I suppose.”

Mary gave a small smile, but still seemed to have trouble meeting his eyes. She wiped her mouth again, hands trembling slightly.

“I don’t know why you care so much,” she muttered, gaze fixed on the dirt underneath her sandals.

Matthew blinked, slightly startled. “Because you matter, Mary,” he said simply.

“But I left,” she protested. “I walked away. . . From Him, and everything He’s given me.”

“But He never walks away,” Matthew whispered, and she finally met his eyes.

Exhaling shakily, she shook her head. “I don’t think I deserve that type of forgiveness. I know I don’t.”

“Forgiveness isn’t about deserving. It’s about being loved anyway,” Matthew gave a small smile.

Mary smiled back, just slightly. “I suppose you’re right. I just. . .”

“I know. I know how you feel, Mary. But I’ll walk back with you. And so will Simon. We won’t let you walk alone.” Matthew was glad to see her smile again, slightly more genuine this time. He was still slightly shaken from the relief of finding her.

As if by design, Simon suddenly appeared around the corner, looking slightly disheveled. “Matthew? Matthew?!” He hurried forward, eyes widening. “You- you found her?!”

“Yes.” Matthew nodded firmly, noticing Mary shrink slightly as Simon approached. "Will you get some water for her, before we head back to camp?”

“I- but- you- Mary, are you alright?”

Eyes on the ground again, Mary gave a small nod.

Matthew raised his eyebrows and gave Simon a pointed look, gesturing to the latter’s empty water canteen. “Right.” He muttered, beginning to walk away. “I’ll be right back.”

Matthew took a deep breath and turned to face Mary again, who was watching Simon’s retreating figure. Swallowing, he bravely spoke. “R-remember the words your father always spoke to you, Mary?” He began meekly. Her eyes snapped to attention.

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you. I have called you by name-”

Mary began to sob quietly, and they both finished together. “-You are Mine.”

Chapter Text

It was happening again.

Not in an alarming or dramatic way, just enough for a keen observer like Matthew to notice.

He, Mary, and Ramah were sitting underneath a shady tree, writing tools, papyrus, and scrolls surrounding them.

As Ramah slowly read aloud, slightly self-conscious, Mary was busy copying down one of the scrolls Philip had dictated for Matthew. This passage was considerably longer than the one they had originally begun with, and she was trying to copy it down without peeking at the parchment. Still, she struggled committing it to memory just yet, having to consult the parchment every few moments.

This, along with Ramah’s faltering tone and the stifling, unbearably hot afternoon sun beating down on them, was slowly causing Mary’s brow to furrow more and more, until soon, she was reaching up to rub her forehead; usual contented expression replaced with a slight frown.

Water, Matthew thought. The last time Mary grew frustrated during a reading lesson, the water seemed to help- from what he’d observed, anyway. Perhaps it was worth trying again.

He waited until there was a lengthy pause in Ramah’s reading, then cleared his throat and stood up. “I- I’ll be right back, ladies,” he gave them a quick nod before walking away, heading toward the pitcher of water near the campfire.

Water would surely help, he thought. Not only with the heat but in whatever other ways it usually helped her calm down.

He was so deep in thought that when he heard a Voice addressing him he almost jumped out of his skin.

“Shalom, Matthew.”

His head flew up and he immediately stopped in his tracks. “Oh, Rabbi,” he glanced up with an awkward albeit warm smile. “Shalom.”

The Teacher and His mother sat around the dying embers of the campfire, the coals still glowing slightly from the noon meal. Both were sitting chatting casually, sipping from cups of water.

Mother Mary gave him a warm smile. “You three are very busy with your lessons, no? It looks like you’re all learning a lot.”

“It- it is going well, thank you for asking,” he nodded rapidly. “Mary and Ramah are excellent learners.”

“Ah, then you must be a good teacher!” Her smile widened. Matthew reddened, but hearing the compliment made his head duck nonetheless.

“I’m glad you’ve been able to dive deeper into some of the Torah, Matthew,” Jesus gave him a wink. “You should probably get back to your diligent pupils, hm?”

“Oh, yes,” Matthew nodded again, twisting his handkerchief in his fingers, “I was just coming to get Mary some water.” The man stepped forward towards the pitcher, but Mother Mary had already stood and quickly poured two cups.

“One for Ramah as well, hm?” She raised an eyebrow, still beaming. “We can’t forget about her.”

“Oh- oh, of course, yes,” the former tax collector blushed again, this time noticeably redder. “Ah, thank you, I appreciate it.” He stumbled over his words, unsure how to address her. Matthew was a name user, yes, but simply calling her “Mary” seemed almost disrespectful. He’d heard some of the others call her Mother Mary, but he wasn’t sure they were to those terms yet.

He hurried back to the tree, walking carefully so as not to spill the water, completely unaware of the conversation beginning behind him.

Mother Mary was still watching his departing figure with a smile. “He’s doing well, isn’t he?”

Jesus hummed. “He is. It’s been wonderful to watch each one of them change, and grow to live better lives- even if it takes a little time.” He chuckled, and a proud smile spread over His lips. He glanced at His mother, expecting her to agree wholeheartedly, but instead the playful look was still in her eyes.

“Getting some water for Mary, hm? What about Ramah?”

“Imma. . .”

“What? I am just saying! It is a good thing I’m here; we can’t have the poor girl dying of thirst.”

Jesus smiled and rolled His eyes good naturedly. “Uh-oh. What do you mean by that?”

She gave him a look and raised an eyebrow. “Please tell me I’m not the only one around here who can see it, otherwise you may need to start opening the eyes of the blind more frequently.”

Her Son laughed again, folding His hands in His lap. “I know what you mean.”

She gave a small smile. “Hm. Good.” She paused, glancing over to the tree where the lesson was still taking place under the shady branches. “Has anyone said anything about it?”

“No, no,” Jesus shook His head, directing His gaze over yonder as well. “Few have seemed to notice. In fact, I think you’re more aware of it than they are themselves.”

“Well, that’s normally how it goes at first,” Mother Mary said thoughtfully, resting her chin in her hand. “You know, when I first visited the group shortly after the ministry had begun, I immediately noticed a sort of connection between them,” she paused, remembering that night first with a smile, then a frown. “Mary defended him. Or at least, she tried. But Simon was being. . . Simon, and, well, you remember it.”

“I do.” Jesus gave a nod. “Seems like a long time ago, no?”

His imma nodded, but still looked thoughtful. "They’re good for each other,” she said decidedly, crossing her legs.

“Oh? Are you playing matchmaker now?” Jesus raised an eyebrow, amused.

Mother Mary leaned over to gently shove Him. “Oh hush. I’m simply observing them, is all.”

“Well, I can’t say you’re wrong about it,” He smiled. “Mary sees Matthew the way I do, Imma. She doesn’t look upon him with scorn, or disgust like others might. She looks upon him with love and compassion.”

“…And?” His mother prompted him further.

“She’s brought out the good in him as well. When I sent him and Simon to find her- you remember that, of course- I know he was a great comfort and encouragement to her.”

Mother Mary laughed softly. “Of course I remember. After she returned, he followed her around the rest of the day like a lost puppy, making sure she wouldn’t disappear again,” she chuckled, then sobered. “I am glad she came back.”

“Me too.” Jesus replied sincerely. Then He looked at his imma with a twinkle in His eye. “I’m sure Matthew is as well.”

She laughed richly. “You’re just as bad as me. I think they’re adorable. But we’ll just have to give them time, hm?”

“Definitely. What they have is something special, and it cannot be rushed or hastened. And whether it blossoms into something or not, they’ll always be friends.”