A/N: Thank you all for reading (and reviewing), Merry Christmas and I hope you enjoy the final chapter of this story.


"You think it's really possible that machine all the way on M6S-868 could have been in contact with our gremlin, providing control and power for it?" John asked.

Some time after the gremlin had been dealt with, Lorne's Team had dialed the 'Gate and called in, but at the time Atlantis had been unable to respond. The team hadn't tried offering a full report to the silent city, but they'd given enough of their circumstances to indicate that they were stranded, but some kind of threat to jumpers had apparently been neutralized.

Armed with this information, John had composed an argument for Elizabeth to the effect that if the jumper on M6S-868 had been knocked out like the ones in Atlantis and whatever the team had done had gotten the DHD and radio back up, it was probably safe to send another jumper. Elizabeth was skeptical, but she gave him a go… after Rodney and a team interrupted their work to go over a jumper to make sure it was in working order. Rodney's assessment was grudging, he didn't like some of the power fluctuations the jumper was kicking up… but it was solid enough that John was allowed to go and retrieve the team sans their own jumper, which would have to sit where it was until a repair team was ready to be deployed off-world to deal with it. John figured that'd be about half-past never if the team had their way, and he was likely to be spending the next few weeks or even months hammering home the importance of the jumpers to the defense of Atlantis.

Of the eight people who'd gone to M6S-868, only two had been significantly injured. The rest had suffered no worse than cuts and bruises, which wasn't bad for crash landing a depowered jumper in that cliff-ringed swamp John had retrieved them from.

Coincidentally, Major Lorne had tried to blow himself to hell at the same time as Rodney and Zelenka were trying to take out the gremlin. Nobody had an exact to the minute account of either event, but they had been so close in time that Rodney had developed a peculiar theory about it.

Given the control and power the gremlin program had exhibited at the end, Rodney said it was surprising that the tablet had been sufficient to hold it, even with the modifications made. To John, that seemed infinitely more believable than the alternative, which was that the thing Lorne had blown up off-world had somehow been controlling the gremlin even at that tremendous distance, and that Lorne's timing on taking it out had been so perfect that Rodney's plan was able to work.

It sounded… purely fantastic.

Then again, so did Rodney's giving someone else credit for something when he could've taken it all for himself, which told John a little bit about how strongly Rodney believed in his theory.

"Are you seriously asking me?" Ronon had a special way of looking down at John when he thought the other man was a few apples short of a cart, a look he employed now to drive home the point that the inner workings of advanced technology was not his forte.

John looked back at Ronon for a moment before sighing, "No. Not really."

The truth was, at the moment, he really didn't care how that thing had worked. It was gone, and everyone had survived without permanent damage. For the moment, Atlantis was safe, and her people were home. That was all that mattered.

A sudden protesting outcry drew John's attention to the room.

Somehow, despite everything, Beckett and his team of Christmas fans had managed to keep their party on track. The mess hall was draped in green garlands, red ribbons, silver wreaths and multicolored lights such that it was almost unrecognizable.

John wasn't sure if the ingredients for the food had been knowingly collected and traded for months in advance, or if the cooking experts of Atlantis had simply looked at the stores and decided how to dress it up for Christmas, but either way they'd pulled it off nicely, assembling a table of colorful snacks and desserts that was as impressive in its physical breadth as in its variety.

The tree had been knocked down during the final scramble with the gremlin, but some determined decorators had gotten together last minute to angle it and dress it up so that nobody even noticed the broken branches.

It took John a few seconds to figure out what the complaint now was, but he joined in when he figured out it was the music. Specifically song that was playing. It was not that the song was bad, the performance objectionable or the lyrics obscene.

It was the word 'Earth' that felt out of place and wrong.

And the bells are ringing (Peace on Earth)
Like a choir they're singing (Peace on Earth)
In my heart I hear them
Peace on Earth, good will to men

Somehow, when you were stationed in the Pegasus Galaxy, the last thing you wanted on Christmas was to be so glaringly reminded of the home you'd left behind and might not see again. At least, that was the generally expressed logic of the objection.

Teyla took in the room with obvious perplexity. Both she and Ronon had been deeply confused about this entire holiday and the lore behind it from the start, and the various explanations had only served to further bewilder them. This latest didn't clear up the mystery at all. She looked to Ronon, and seemed relieved to find he understood it no better than she did.

"John?" Teyla inquired somewhat hesitantly, "Is not Earth your home world?"

"You know it is," John said, "That isn't the point."

Teyla tucked her head to her chest to think for a moment, then spoke again, "Is your purpose here in this galaxy not to protect your home?"

John looked to Ronon for help, seeing where Teyla was going with this and knowing there wasn't a way to stop her. Ronon shrugged uselessly, suggesting that John should simply accept his fate. John realized he shouldn't look to Ronon for support on such matters. The big Satedan had never been to Earth, knew nothing of Christmas traditions and of course was always inclined to back Teyla because he happened to like her better than most people, and anyway she was the only other Pegasus Galaxy resident stationed in Atlantis, so she was something of a kindred spirit to him, more welcome and familiar at times than these strange Earthmen.

And in despair I bowed my head
There is no peace on Earth I said
For hate is strong and mocks the song
Of peace on Earth, good will to men

"Yes," John sighed, seeing the trap, figuring out how it worked and willingly stepping into it, "Ultimately our goal is to defeat the Wraith here to keep Earth safe from them."

"Then is not peace on Earth precisely what you wish for above all else?" Teyla was still asking questions, but the wise look in her dark eyes said she knew the answers to them already.

"I mean," John offered slowly, "I suppose… in a roundabout way, you could see it like that."

In fact, there was hardly any other way to see it. Though John had entered the Air Force to fight, he'd done it because he ultimately wanted to win, and thus end the fighting. Sure, he'd loved the challenge, the action, the overwhelming coolness of flying a jet… but he wanted to fight the enemy, put them down, and have a sense of peaceful order restored. Of course, that was before he realized the petty Earth-based disputes were nothing in comparison to what was out there in the galaxy.

Other planets with humans. Advanced alien races, some of whom wanted to enslave all of humanity, not just on one planet but in the entire galaxy; others of whom just wanted to feed on them like cattle. Peace on Earth was like a pipe dream. These days he dreamed only of succeeding in making sure that it wasn't wiped from the face of the galaxy altogether.

But the bells are ringing (Peace on Earth)
Like a choir singing (Peace on Earth)
Does anybody hear them?
Peace on earth, good will to men

"And does not good will to men mean good will to all the people of both your galaxy and mine?" Teyla wasn't going to let John get away with this one, "Is that not what we seek out daily in our first contacts, trade and what you call 'humanitarian aid' missions?"

Teyla had a point. She had several points. This was not an argument John was going to win. But he was unprepared to lose gracefully, or throw up his hands and declare Teyla the victor.

So instead he said, "I'm gonna go look for some figgy pudding or something," and he slunk off in defeat to the buffet table, well aware of Teyla's quietly amused gaze following him.

John wasn't sure what figgy pudding was, so he didn't have a great deal of hope about finding any, but the endeavor was preferable to facing the fact that Teyla, who knew almost nothing of Earth and had never heard this song before, had a better grasp of its purpose and meaning than John himself did.

However, he was not so easily able to escape the song, because Zelenka had harshly forbidden anyone not on his team from so much as touching the musical equipment they'd slapped and dashed together. And Zelenka, as well as most of his team, was still sleeping. Well, actually he was sleeping again.

About as soon as they got the basic functions of Atlantis in order, Rodney, Zelenka, Chuck and all the rest who'd been dealing with the crisis had fallen asleep where they were. All over Stargate Operations, in chairs and on the floor. Elizabeth had the shift coming on wake them and shoo them out. The overworked nerds had remained wakeful for a few hours, eating and rehydrating. Some declared they would stay awake for the first hour or two of the Christmas party in the evening and then turn in early, but even these valiant men and women had surrendered to the inevitable, piled themselves comfortably in a corner and fallen asleep despite the noise of the party surrounding them.

Then rang the bells more loud and deep
God is not dead, nor does He sleep (Peace on Earth, peace on Earth)
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail
With peace on earth, good will to men

Circling the table, John began to scan the room for someone else he could talk to. Ideally someone who wouldn't make him feel foolish. Maybe someone who understood how difficult gracefully socializing, especially at a Christmas party, really was.

No sign of Rodney. Wait, no, there he was, in among his fellow geeks in the corner, using a decorative wreath for a pillow. For a man who insisted that he needed a prescription mattress, it seemed like Rodney could fall asleep anywhere if he was tired enough.

If John didn't acquire someone else to talk to, he'd wind up going back to Teyla and Ronon, who would either keep after him until he conceded defeat or else ply him with additional Christmas-related questions. He didn't think he could stand another five minutes of that without breaking, and… ah, there was his way out. All the way outside, as it turned out.

Though the main part of the mess hall was indoors, there was also an outdoor section. Atlantis had balconies practically everywhere, and the room they'd turned into a mess hall was no exception. Understandably, the music, decorations and most of the party goers were inside, but a handful of quiet-minded souls had stepped out to watch the ocean and stars in peace.

One of these was Major Lorne, whom John had heard Beckett grudgingly released from the infirmary specifically for the party. The Major's left wrist was in a cast, his arm in a sling to protect his torn shoulder, and he moved like a man who'd sustained a full-body bruise, but he'd come out remarkably intact all things in the report considered.

In fact, despite everything that had happened, the only thing Lorne had lost for good was his watch, which had been crushed by the same debris that broke his wrist. Small price to pay for bringing what had been described as a mountain down on his head. The watch was standard issue, and easily replaced.

However, thinking about the watch reminded John of that conversation he'd had with Rodney… was it only two days ago? It felt like two months ago. In particular, what Rodney had observed about how John and Lorne had "Gift of the Magi'd" themselves. It had kind of annoyed him then, but in retrospect, it was actually rather amusing.

Lorne was holding a mug of the Lantean cocoa alternative, but he didn't seem to have done more than taste it. John didn't blame him. The substitute neither tasted nor smelled much like chocolate. It took a little getting used to, and it was best not to swig too much at once until you'd developed the taste for it, otherwise the strong flavor of it could become overwhelming.

John wished he'd brought a mug or glass of something so he could pretend to have come out here to sip it instead of to hide from the festivities and questions he didn't want to answer. But, seeing as he hadn't, he opted to lean forward and rest his forearms on the balcony railing, gazing out at the slow-rolling ocean.

It was a calm, clear night. Beyond the balcony, a large chunk of the city was visible, lightless and cloaked in shadow, but edged with silver by the countless stars blazing in the heavens, reflecting off the metallic parts of the city, and the crests of the ocean waves. It was an utterly alien view, but John was beginning to think there wasn't a better or more beautiful one anywhere in the universe.

"It'd make a great painting," John observed absently.

"I prefer to do sunrises, but yeah," Lorne replied.

John blinked in moderate surprise, "You paint?"

"Not for awhile," Lorne answered, taking an experimental sip of his beverage and then pausing to contemplate whether or not the strange flavor was to his liking. Ruefully, Lorne glanced at his arm-sling, "Not for awhile longer either."

Of all the skills John had, all the hobbies he'd picked up, he was no kind of an artist. He'd thought about it, but it just wasn't on his list of talents, and John tended to get impatient with things he was not quickly good at. He was used to acquiring skills easily, just putting his mind to a thing and getting good at it. Trying to draw something more inspired than a stick figure was like hitting a brick wall, and he simply did not have the tolerance or patience for the activity, never mind painting.

John had known Lorne had to be one patient guy, to put up with half a year of mining, but this was driven home anew by the realization that he had the slow persistence it took to be a painter, even if only as a hobby. That patience and determination were exactly what John needed in a second-in-command, because only someone with those traits in spades could put up with him, Elizabeth and all the civilians who were constantly trying to run things.

Though it hadn't been a gift John had expected, asked for or wanted, he realized that what Lorne had offered had nonetheless been given with thoughtfulness and the best of intentions, and that it had cost Lorne a great deal. Not only had Lorne and one of his men been hurt, John knew what it was to crash land, to be trapped with cranky, scared civilians and to doubt that he would be able to bring them home alive. It was more than just giving up time off, and coming home early from a mission with nothing to show for it in the end. Lorne had let himself in for a world of misery that only those who'd been in such situations could truly understand. Even though that hadn't been the plan, as John had said, Lorne had gone in knowing it was a possibility. In fact, it was possible that the well meant gesture could have cost Major Lorne everything, including his life.

"How about we go in and look for some figgy pudding or something," John suggested.

Lorne gave him a brow furrowing look of confusion, but all he said was, "Figgy pudding, sir?"

"Unless you have something else you'd like to look for, yeah," John said cheerfully, and made as if to go back inside, before pausing, "You comin', Major?"

Evidently having decided he liked the brew after all, Lorne took a pretty swig of the faux cocoa before passively replying, "Yes sir."

Absurdly, it crossed John's mind to be grateful for the fact that the Major hadn't been part of the original Expedition. He didn't think he could live up to Lorne's standards.

"Thank you, Major," John said.

Mystified, Lorne asked, "For what, sir?"

"For selling your watch."

And the bells they're ringing (Peace on Earth)
Like a choir they're singing (Peace on Earth)
And with our hearts we'll hear them
Peace on earth, good will to men