O Holy night, the stars are brightly shining.
It is the night of our dear Savior's birth.
The stars were out in force tonight. Elizabeth Weir smiled as she watched them pass her frozen body.
Long lay the world in sin and error pining,
'Til He appeared and the soul felt its worth.
The planet swirled beneath her, silent in its vigil. Around her, other Replicators hung in space, their consciousnesses long ago frozen with the rigors of space. But a spark of Elizabeth still remained.
A thrill of hope, a weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
The solar system's sun broke over the rim of the planet, temporarily blinding her. Yes, it was a glorious morn. The part of her that retained her identity had counted the days, ticking them off in her mind. Today was Christmas Day back on Earth.
Fall on your knees! Oh hear the angel voices!
Oh night divine, oh night when Christ was born!
So long ago, Elizabeth left Earth behind, hoping that she'd one day return. And she had, both in reality and once in her mind. But Atlantis had always been in her heart. In her dreams. It was how she'd survived in the harshness of space for so long. While her last visit to the city had ended in disaster, she loved Atlantis. The city was her life, her home. And she wanted to retain as much of her memories of home as possible.
Were the people on Atlantis celebrating this Christmas? She knew that Sheppard didn't have much family, and he likely didn't celebrate the holiday. But others did. Major Lorne had family back on Earth. As did Dr. Keller. And many more. Christmas meant something to many of them. They should celebrate, not be held hostage to the Wraith or any of the other horrors the Pegasus galaxy offered.
Truly He taught us to love one another.
His law is love, and His gospel is peace.
Elizabeth believed in love. She wanted peace. So much so that she'd managed to hide within the Replicator collective, working with Niam's group to attain ascension. When she'd first discovered the link between ascension and the Ancients, she'd been fascinated. As time passed, she'd come to believe in ascension. Over time, the Replicators she'd joined had uploaded themselves into subspace in the belief that it would help them attain ascension. It had only been the beginning of the end. Now, she hung in space, barely holding on and captive to the Replicator body she'd built.
Chains shall He break, for the slave is our brother,
And in His name, all oppression shall cease.
She longed for freedom. With everything in her, she desired the day when she would either forget or be rescued. But she could not hope for rescue. She had been stolen from her own human body and implanted into a Replicator form. She understood oppression. While the humans of the galaxy knew oppression from the Wraith and the Replicators, she knew oppression from her own mind.
Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,
Let all within us praise His holy name!
For Christ, He is the Lord!
Oh praise His name forever!
It became harder to remain, more difficult to retain her consciousness. She grasped at the fading memories. The cold of space seeped into her bones, chilling her to the very center of her being.
His power and glory evermore proclaim!
Elizabeth saw the Stargate come into view as she spun in space. Her eyes closed briefly, but she forced them open. If she went to sleep now, she'd never awaken again. Death was so close, so welcome. She'd fought until the very end, and she needed to simply allow herself to slip away.
But she couldn't slip away. There was too much left to do. Too many discoveries, too many unexplored recesses of the galaxy, too many people who needed deliverance from the Wraith. But her time had come. She could hold on no longer. She had to let go, no matter how unwilling she might be.
His power and glory evermore proclaim!
At this moment, with death imminent, she saw clearly. In the space of a moment, her mind ran through the different Christmas celebrations. The Christmas tree. The holly, ivy, mistletoe, wreaths, gifts, lights, all of it floated through her mind with clarity that surprised her. The Nativity, the one thing about Christmas that her mother insisted on displaying in their yard, reminding her of the hope that the birth of Christ had brought. The song her mother always sang on Christmas Day. It seemed fitting that here, at the moment of her death, she would think of the Child born to save the world. She allowed her eyes to close one final time.
His power and glory. . . .
oOo
Author's Note: "O Holy Night" was written in 1847 by Placide Cappeau de Roquemaure. Cappeau was a wine seller who wrote the poem and later decided it needed music. His friend, Adolphe Charles Adams, had attended Paris conservatoire and had become a fairly well-known composer. Adams penned the music for the carol. I know this one was a little more subdued than the others, but Elizabeth was always a very special character.
On this day when we celebrate many things, remember your families, your friends, and Jesus, born in a humble stable in Bethlehem. "His power and glory evermore proclaim!" ~lg