Title: Mistaken Identity

Pairings: Some Sheppard/Weir hints, Sheppard/OC (s) and Weir/OC (s).

A/N: This was a lot of fun to write.

i. the relative

The clink of champagne flutes as toasts were made spontaneously around the room mingled with merry chatter and laughter. Tugging at his tie, John scanned the place for his fiancee. He spotted her conversing with a balding, heavy-set man; she caught his eye and shot him a pleading look.

With swift casualness, John approached them and pulled her away, apologising and explaining that he had to speak to her about an urgent matter.

'Who was that?' he asked once they were out of earshot.

'I don't know!' Emma laughed, looping her arm around his. 'I think he works with my brother. He was flirting with me; I'm not sure he knew that I was the bride-to-be.'

John smiled in amusement and led her to a slightly quieter area of the room.

'How do you think it's going so far? Everyone looks like they're having fun.'

'They do, don't they?' Emma surveyed the crowd with satisfaction. 'That might just be the alcohol, though.'

A sudden shriek of delight sounded from the entrance. Emma and John pushed through the gathering around the door to see a friend of Emma's hugging a taller woman. The woman pulled free and caught sight of the audience.

'Oops. Sorry to take the attention off you, Emma.'

Emma started.

'Elizabeth?' she asked unnecessarily. Without another moment of hesitation, she sprung forward in her high heels and threw herself at Elizabeth. 'Oh, it's so good to see you. There's someone you really need to meet.'

She motioned for John to move forward.

'John, this is Dr. Elizabeth Weir, the long-absent older sister who's finally decided she can make it home to meet my fiance.' She grinned. 'Liz, John Sheppard, my husband-to-be.'

Elizabeth took John's hand in an enthusiastic shake. She directed a smile brighter than her red dress at him.

'It's great to meet you at last,' she told him warmly. 'I guess I did leave seeing my sister's partner a little too late.'

'Nice to meet you too,' John replied. He shrugged at her comment, unconsciously attempting to determine the colour of her eyes. 'At least now you can't convince Emma to leave me at the altar.'

'Don't underestimate me,' she said, a joking hint in her voice. 'You're not getting married until tomorrow. But'- she ran her gaze over him quickly and smiled crookedly- 'I don't think I'll be doing anything to stop Emma from entering this particular commitment.'

The crowd drifted away, returning to their socialising. John watched Emma take her sister to find a drink.

Why did he feel as though he'd met Elizabeth before?

ii. the acquaintance

'Surely after the drama of last night, Mother, you do not think Mr Reynolds is still a fine match for me?' Elizabeth glanced at the perfect arrangement of cutlery on the table with unveiled resentment. Her mother was busy fussing about a small speck of black on the white sheet.

'Yes, I do,' Mrs Weir answered sharply. She paused in her scrutiny of the tablecloth. 'Last night was merely an accident. Mr Reynolds is as wonderful a gentleman as ever.'

'Oh, yes,' Elizabeth muttered. 'He "accidentally" found himself embracing with an unwilling woman.'

'Evelyn Wood is a-' Mrs. Weir caught herself. 'She is an unpleasant woman, prone to lying and deceiving. I am certain that she planned the entire situation to leave Mr Reynolds in an unfavourable light.'

Elizabeth thought it was unlikely, but did not utter another word. It was not worth arguing any further with her mother; often she would be met only with stubbornness and a resolution to tune out any opposition. She smoothed down the skirt of her gown with hands that shook in anger.

'At any rate, Mr Reynolds is enchanted by you. He is a decent and wealthy man who will treat you well. That is enough for me.

'But it isn't for me,' Elizabeth replied, feeling tears materialise. 'Father says I should only be happy; I am happy without a husband.'

'Your father does not think of your future, my dear. You need someone to take care of you.'

The younger woman snapped. 'I can take care of myself, thank you.'

'I will not be spoken to like that,' Mrs Weir answered in the same harsh tone.

Turning away, Elizabeth bit her lip to keep the tears from falling. She occupied herself with observing the other passengers streaming in, until her view was obstructed entirely.

'Good evening, ladies.' A handsome man stood beside her; his unruly dark hair was a welcome sight amidst all the perfectly groomed people and precise table settings.

'Colonel Sheppard!' Elizabeth's mother exclaimed instantly, her keen eyes spotting the famous Colonel. She rose from her seat and extended a hand. 'It is a pleasure to see you again. I believe you have not met my daughter, Elizabeth?'

'No, I have not. Ms Weir, an honour to make your acquaintance.' He gently grasped her hand.

Elizabeth inclined her head and returned the pleasantries. A brief conversation ensued; her mother was soon distracted by the arrival of Mr Reynolds.

'Forgive me, but such beautiful eyes should not be clouded by tears.' The Colonel smiled, a charming gesture that lifted her spirits. 'I hope you will find more cause to smile than to weep.'

She allowed him a quick upturn of her lips, which he nodded in approval at. Mr Reynolds switched his attention to her, and when she was done accepting his compliments, she realised the other man had disappeared.

Mrs Weir spoke again.

'The Titanic is at a spectacular speed, is it not?'

iii. the enemy

'That was a low trick,' a female voice hissed into his ear. He didn't have to turn to identify its owner. The plush couch sank a little as the woman sat down.

'Elizabeth, what trick was there involved in my telling Simon a little more about you?' John drawled lazily, facing her with an arm dangling over the side. 'He wanted to know; I obliged.'

'You deliberately gave him negative information.'

'Liz, don't you think you're being a little paranoid?' A low chuckle tickled his throat. 'I have better things to do than interfere with your relationships.'

'Oh, I'd forgotten. You're busy making your way through all the female employees of your father's company, aren't you?' Elizabeth snatched up the drink she'd set on a small table and downed half of it. Guests at the exclusive bar's opening night passed by, oblivious to the sniping.

'And your father's screwing every woman in his company,' John retorted. 'Half the men, too, I expect.'

'You bastard,' Elizabeth fumed, slamming her glass onto the table. 'You're the one who'd screw his own mother.'

John caught her wrist roughly. He yanked her closer to him on the stylish couch, keeping the situation looking as controlled as he could. He lowered his lips to her ear, feeling her furious trembling.

'Don't you dare talk about my mother again,' he demanded softly.

She drew away, leaving her arm in his hand and gazed back at him with fire and loathing.

'Stay the hell out of my life, John Sheppard.'

She pulled herself free and stood up in one fluid motion. John's current fling sashayed over, holding his requested drinks.

'I hope you know what an ass you're involved with,' Elizabeth sneered at the perky blonde.

She stormed away, her glare easily clearing a path. John smirked and was left thinking about how much he was already looking forward to their next encounter.

iv. the stranger

Tucking a folded newspaper under her left arm, Elizabeth balanced a foam cup of coffee, a pastry bag and her purse with her hands. She skilfully dodged two tables and skirted through narrow gaps between chairs. A patron of the café suddenly scooted back his chair, leaving Elizabeth to avoid it as best she could.

The lid of her cup fell off and a stream of brown liquid promptly found its way onto the opened newspaper of a seated man. Her belongings flew from her clutch.

'I'm so sorry,' Elizabeth said hastily. She bent to pick up her bag and purse.

'It's fine,' the man replied, abandoning his soaked newspaper. He reached for hers and handed it back with a grin. 'I think it's best if you slow down a bit.'

'I should,' Elizabeth sighed, straightening up. 'My job doesn't allow me to, though.'

'What job would send a woman into such a rush that she can't even sit to enjoy coffee?'

Elizabeth noticed his casual grin and it brought to her a strange sense of familiarity.

'Do I know you?' she asked, frowning and looking at his hazel eyes and shock of hair.

'Is that an attempt at a pick-up line?'

'Is that an attempt at turning an innocent question, into an opportunity for a pick-up line?'

His face reflected good humour and self-confidence.

'I don't generally need pick-up lines,' he said. 'I wouldn't say you do, either. To answer your first question, I don't think I know you, but does the name John Sheppard ring a bell?'

'No…' Elizabeth answered slowly. She checked her watch. 'Thanks for the help. I'm sorry about your newspaper.' She tossed him hers. 'Take mine.'

'Can I at least know your name?' he called to her as she began hurrying to the exit.

'Elizabeth Weir!' She smiled at him over her shoulder. 'And thanks for the compliment!'

v. the colleague

He pulled on a black jacket as he ran. Blurs of astonished people whipped past, but he had only one focus in mind. Making a leap over a suitcase, he uttered a quick apology to the annoyed-looking owner and continued sprinting.

He got to her just in time. She was perched on a chair, and was beginning to rise to leave when he stumbled to a stop. She seemed exhausted, though no surprise formed on her face.

'What are you doing here?'

'I could ask you the same thing,' he shot back.

'God, I thought we sorted this out. I can't do this anymore. I'm not staying.' She rubbed slender fingers against her temples. 'You're too preoccupied for this relationship.'

'We just survived a murder attempt together. I've scaled back on my time at work. I'm at home more often. What else do you want?'

'I want you to stop seeing Rebecca,' she replied, staring at him coldly. 'I'm not stupid. I know where you really are when you tell me you're 'out with friends'.'

'I love you,' he told her, his voice cracking with a silent plea for forgiveness.

'I know. I love you too.' A wet sheen of tears began to appear in her eyes and his heart clenched with the knowledge that he was the cause of them. 'But love can't solve everything.'

A last call for her flight spurred her into action. She stepped lightly forward and wrapped her arms around him.

'Maybe someday we can,' she whispered. 'Or maybe this just wasn't meant to be.'

Her embrace was tight; he had a flash of déjà vu, which he reluctantly passed off as nonsense. He had to keep his mind on the task at hand.

'We will see each other again.' His words were a promise.

She nodded and he let her walk away.

'And cut!'

John ran a hand through his hair, relishing the freedom to spike it up again. He grinned joyfully at his co-star and she raced back to hug him.

'Great work, John, Elizabeth,' their director said, equally pleased. 'That's it, everyone! Nice job!'

As far as anyone could see, Hollywood's two biggest names' first movie together would be a hit.