Sing No Song by soapbox_solo38 (Wordless Challenge)

[soapbox-solo38.livejournal.com]

Title: Sing No Song
Author: soapbox_solo38
Rating: PG
Character: Elizabeth Weir
Summary: A glimpse of sunlight in the night; a warning in the silence.

Sing, sing, little bird,
Keep us safe tonight.
Watch for death,
Don’t hold your breath,
And sing us through
‘Till morning’s light

             -A Prayer for Sunlight

She is still, carved ivory set in a frame of twisting black iron, enamel lines drying on delicate porcelain. She is motionless, lashes brushing her pale cheeks, puppeteer strings cut from her thin arms. It is as if she is unfinished, something missing from the equation, lost among the healing bones of her body and the shattered pieces of her mind.

And yet, even when her spirit wanders the borders of death, even when her skin is paler than the white sheets she lies on, she continues to save them.

Like the canaries of old, brought down into the depths of the shafts to sing and then die as a warning to miners, her rise from the darkness is a signal they have learned to watch for.

Her eyelids twitch, barely fluttering open before they close, hiding the hint of green. A nearby doctor pauses, watching her intently. As soon as her head tilts slightly to the side, McKennan taps his radio.

“She’s stirring.”

Under the steady eyes of a camera and a second nurse, two fingers shift minutely from their resting places, nails lightly scratching the Athosian quilt. Three hours later cracked lips part, her heartbeat increasing. Seven, and her deep, slow breaths turns shallower, faster. Thirteen, and her head rolls to the other side, the edges of her mouth pulling back.

Eighteen, and her eyes fly open, pupils so dilated that only the thinnest ring remains of her irises.

No words escape her throat, no sign of intelligence lives in her gaze, but the message, to those who listen, is clear:

They are here.

And the Asuran ships blaze out of hyperspace.

Having known of the enemy’s approach in advance, Atlantis manages to score a series of direct hits within minutes (her body shudders with each impact), and the fierce battle begins (her wide, staring eyes never blinking). First one ship is destroyed (she goes into violent convulsions), then the second routed (her head lashes from side to side as she struggles against her restraints), and finally the last two driven off by the triumphant city.

As soon as they turn away, her twisting body goes limp. The nurses hurriedly wipe away the bright blood vivid against the sheets, and dab gingerly at the chaffed, angry skin on her wrists and ankles. Oblivious to their tender ministrations, she seems to sigh; and then Elizabeth’s blank, unseeing eyes are hidden once more.

Quiet, silent, still, she is their Lantean canary; for when she sings, they listen.

Sing, sing, little bird,
Dawn is far away,
Sing of sunshine,
Sing of rain,
And come with me
Into the day.