Disclaimer: not mine.
Rating: eh... 13ish. Swearing vague innuendo, vague violence. One slightly creepy bit. Or two.
Fandoms: SG: Atlantis/Doctor Who Notes: This wasn't supposed to be a crossover, and you don't actually have to know a damned thing about Doctor Who to get the general gist of things. If you do, um, I didn't mean to name her that. But she's not the new one.
Warnings: This contains references to heterosexual relations between Dr. Elizabeth Weir and Colonel John Sheppard. Please refrain from reading if this squicks you.
Genre: Crossover, gen Spoilers: through the one with Lucius for Lantis; all of season two for DW.
This one's for ma qwirky for giving me a mental orgy.

The One With no Tea by ALC Punk!

"Hey. How's it goin'?" Colonel Sheppard's arm slung itself around Elizabeth Weir's shoulder. So did the scent of his breath.

She sucked in half a breath and grimaced, "You're drunk."

"Maybe." He replied mildly. "But you haven't answered my question."

Using a move she'd picked up in college, while trolling bars and learning lawyery things for her doctorate, Elizabeth knocked his arm off her shoulder and put space between them. "I'm doing just fine, thank you. Why don't you go sit back with your team?"

A glance at said team showed them to be laughing merrily, except for Ronon, who just looked puzzled. Really, this wine the ambassador of the Mir'are had brought for their trade negotiations was quite potent. Elizabeth had barely drunk more than a sip and she could feel it bubbling through her veins like acid. If she'd dropped acid in college. Not that it was something she'd ever discuss with her command staff.

"Nah. Rodney's bein' all geeky." Sheppard attempted to sling his arm around her again.

Elizabeth blocked it and stood, "Colonel, I think you're a little drunk."

"I," he informed her with dignity, "Can hold my alcohol quite fine, Doctor. Weir. Elizabeth."

Maybe he could, but Elizabeth didn't think he was, currently. "Go back to your team, John."

"Doctor. Weir," interrupted Colonel Caldwell. He loomed behind Sheppard. "Is this man bothering you?"

Elizabeth almost laughed at the ridiculousness of the cliche comment; she shook her head, "No. Thank you, Steven, but Colonel Sheppard was about to say goodnight to me."


Before they could get into a pissing match, Elizabeth interrupted them. "Good night, colonels." She picked up her glass and gave them both a firm look.

She left them both arguing over who had annoyed her more, both sounding more than a little drunk. Elizabeth half-smiled as she reached the door. They were being ridiculous. Ambassador Mestra approached her before she could leave, smiling above his neatly-trimmed Van Dyke beard. "Doctor Weir, leaving so soon? And abandoning our fine vintage. Sad."

"Yes, I'm afraid I have some paperwork to finish." She raised her glass, "I will be drinking this later however."

"Ah. Wonderful." He bowed, "Good night, doctor."

Tilting her head to him, she turned and left. Elizabeth was halfway to her office when she stopped, considering. Maybe she was being paranoid. Maybe hanging around all of these military minds was turning her brain around and twisting her instinctive ability to trust. But there was something not quite right, something she couldn't put her finger on. And, maybe, it was too soon since Lucius for her to trust anyone bearing wine, women and song.

It wouldn't take her long. Just a quick detour and then she could finish off the paperwork in her office (it hadn't been a polite lie. Elizabeth had long since been overwhelmed with the amount of paperwork it took to run a facility like Atlantis--and that with very little contact between them and Earth, too).

The infirmary was dark when she got there, and a quick poke around produced neither Carson nor any of his attendants.

With a sigh for the time she was wasting, Elizabeth headed to the labs. Doctor Zelenka hadn't been at the gathering, and his assistant, Doctor Jones, was from the chemical side of the equation. If she remembered her specifics right, that was. And if the woman was in.

Doctor Zelenka's lab was not empty, luckily, and he was cheerily singing something in Russian under his breath. For a moment, Elizabeth stood in the doorway, utterly charmed by the sound and sight. Then she coughed, not wanting to interrupt, but needing his assistance. "Doctor?"

"Ah! Elizabeth!" He smiled expansively. "How are you this evening?"

"Just fine," she replied, a little disturbed. Then she noticed the empty glass next to his computer terminal. "I see the wine did make it down here."

"Indeed. And it's quite lovely. Quite lovely."

"Yes, tell me, is your assistant, Doctor Jones around?"

"Erin!" He bellowed, pushing off from the desk and turning himself around on the stool, "Erin, Doctor Weir would like to see you!"

"Just a moment." A dark head poked around one side of the far wall, "Be right there."

"No, that's all right," Elizabeth slid past Zelenka, "I'll come to you."

Doctor Erin Jones smiled self-consciously at her as she approached. "I've been busy analyzing the samples Lorne's team brought back from P3X-whatsit last week." The British inflections of her voice were unmarred by any signs of drunkenness.

For that, Elizabeth heaved a mental sigh of relief. She held up her glass, "I take it you haven't been drinking?"

"Nah. My da never liked the strange stuff much. I kinda take after him." She smiled, "But thank you."

"Actually, I brought it--" Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder at the still-whirling Doctor Zelenka, "Has he been like that long?"

"Since he started drinking, yes. I think."

The paranoia might not be so pointless after all. Elizabeth held the glass out, "Can you analyze this and tell me what it contains?"

"Well, alcohol, surely?"

"I... Let's just call it paranoia, shall we? Can you tell me the chemical composition and what effect it might have on the human brain?"

"Well, if you have a week," Erin replied facetiously.

"Two hours."

"Doctor Weir, I'll need three."

Studying the woman and the earnestness in her expression, Elizabeth nodded, "All right. Contact me as soon as you know. I'll be in my office."

"I'll have the results to you then, doctor."


Erin Jones may have grown up in half a dozen countries, sometimes eating strange bugs and plants just to stay alive. But she liked to think it didn't make her any different than the average citizen. Even with the stories of her mother's past and the practical things her father had taught her, she figured she was basically boring. Going into the sciences (the hard ones, and not to save the planet, either--and her father hadn't been disappointed, just sad, a bit) had seemed like the ideal thing to do, when she was younger.

Now, standing over a microscope while she waited for the mass spectrometer to spit out its results, she wasn't so sure. It was all rather boring. Even landing a job with the Antarctic Expedition and coming to Atlantis seemed almost common-place.

Or it would have if the place wasn't attacked every few weeks. She shivered, a bit, at the thought of the Wraith. At least they seemed to be rather stupid aliens.

Frowning thoughtfully, she wondered if stupid aliens were all that were out there. According to her mother, probably.

A sound from behind her made her turn, already pulling up an excuse to get Radek to go back to his chair--maybe if she suggested spider solitaire or Chuzzle. "Doctor Zelenka, I--"

"I'm afraid the good doctor is still twirling in his chair."

The man was unctuous and smiling at her through his small, neatly-trimmed beard and mustache. Erin blinked, "I'm sorry, this is a restricted area, I'm afraid you'll have to leave."

"My dear, I'm Ambassador Mestra. And I was simply curious as to what you were doing."

"Sir, I'm afraid you will have to leave. And it's classified." If there was one thing Erin had learned in her line of work, it was that you didn't talk about it. Sure, you could chatter with your co-workers, but they'd all been cleared. Ambassadors and visitors, had not. Despite the city of Atlantis being itself a rather mystical and magical place, the science lab was off-limits.

The ambassador stepped closer, peering deeply into her eyes, "I simply want to know," he murmured, something almost malicious in the tone.

A shiver slid down Erin's spine, something she couldn't quite place was slithering through her subconscious. "I was analyzing samples Major Lorne's team brought back from P3X-FG4." She whispered softly.

"Hrm. Intriguing, I'm sure." Suddenly dismissive, the ambassador waved a hand, "I apologize my dear, I hadn't realized this was a restricted area. I'll leave you to your work."

He was gone, black-clad legs striding elegantly from the room.

Erin sucked in a breath and closed her eyes, waiting until he was completely gone before reaching for her coffee mug. It was empty.


The spectrometer pinged, making her jump. She clutched the mug to her chest and moved to inspect the results.


On top of her vague paranoia, Elizabeth now had a headache. She rubbed the back of her neck and fought back a sigh. Closing her eyes, she rubbed her face and jaw, running her fingers back through her hair in an age-old stress release technique. It only partially worked. The paperwork on her desk did not magically dwindle in volume when she opened her eyes.

"Doctor Weir?"

Elizabeth looked up and tried to bring a smile to her lips. She felt too worn to do so, "Doctor Jones. Has it been three hours already?"

"Four, actually." The younger woman came into her office and closed the door before moving to take a seat opposite Elizabeth. She let out a soft sigh, "The analysis took longer because some of the ingredients were synthetic and unidentifiable--at first." She held out a handful of paper.

Taking it, Elizabeth didn't even bother leafing through it. Her scientific reading wasn't up to speed when she was wide awake and alert. Right now, it looked like so much gibberish. "Tell me."

"I can't be entirely sure, but--" Jones paused and then continued, as if translating into layman's terms while she thought up her words, "there was more than simple alcohol in the wine. If I'm right, the reactions of all of the ingredients cause a similar state of being that Lucius' potion did."

She'd been right. Elizabeth shivered, wondering how close they could have come to the brink. "But?"

"You need a medical doctor, I think. I can make a guess as to what they all will do, but I'm no brain surgeon, doctor."

"Guess for me, Erin."

"They make the person drinking them open to suggestion, easily controllable. You've seen that they also cause euphoria, as well. I'm not certain if it's addictive, though." She frowned thoughtfully.

"We can hope," Elizabeth murmured.

"There's something else, doctor--"

"Please, call me Elizabeth."

A brief smile flickered across her lips, then was gone. "Elizabeth. The ambassador visited me while I was running my tests. He seemed very interested in what I was doing."

Suddenly completely alert again, Elizabeth stared at her, "What did you tell him?"

"That I was analyzing samples from Major Lorne's team. I think..." She frowned, looking down, "I think he may have been trying some sort of hypnosis on me, to get me to reveal the truth--" she flashed a smile again, "Luckily, my mum had that sort of trickery tried on her when she was in some group as a kid. So she taught me how to avoid it."

"Yes." Elizabeth could feel the headache getting worse. Her neck muscles felt taut as wires. "Do you have an speculation as to why?"

"Perhaps he's paranoid, sir?"

He hadn't followed her. Elizabeth had the feeling that if he had, he wouldn't have needed to ask Doctor Jones what she'd been doing. She considered, then asked, "Is there any way to counteract the effects of the drugs?"

"I could synthesize something, I think." She looked doubtful. "Again, though, not a medical doctor."

"If I can find Carson to help?" offered Elizabeth, standing. "He came up with the antidote to Lucius'."

"Yes, then. I think."

"I'll see if I can find him. You start making preparations."


The gun in her hand was a comfort. The cold metal slowly warming as she held it under her pillow. Ford had been the one to give her the rudimentaries of shooting the weapons they used on Atlantis; Sheppard had refined it, introducing her to the Wraith stunners and getting Ronon to let her hold his gun. And Laura Cadman had stood behind her and made her fire at targets until she couldn't see. Elizabeth didn't like guns. If she had a choice, she'd be a pacifist living in a commune--and probably be bored to tears in two days.

It was just a precaution.

Doctor Jones and Carson had been successful at synthesizing an antidote to the drugs in the alcohol, and once the ambassador was in bed, they had quietly jabbed the unconscious members of the immediate command staff. Elizabeth had suggested them all, but Carson had said that it might take too long, and besides, not everyone had gotten drunk.

Once the antidote had gone through their blood streams, they'd woken up. Sober. Pissed, but sober. The two colonels had come up with their own little plan, and Elizabeth had only objected to their being an armed guard in her room. It wasn't as though she actually thought anything would happen. Although she had her suspicions. And that was the reason she hadn't simply let Sheppard arrest the man. She wanted to know why.

With her mind whirling, trying to figure out what the ambassador had tried to accomplish, Elizabeth was unable to sleep. Still, she had her eyes closed and was breathing evenly when her door opened.

"Ah, Doctor Weir. So very lovely, so very human," Mestra's voice was amused and soft as he crept into her room.

Trying not to tense, Elizabeth ordered her muscles into a state of wakefulness. If he tried anything, she could shoot him where he stood.

A hand brushed over her hair. "You, my dear, will be the first to fall." His voice was compelling, and Elizabeth listened as he told her exactly what she was to do the next morning. Horror grew through her, as she realized that, with the drug in her system, he could have programmed her to do exactly as he instructed.

She considered waking and letting him know he'd failed, but it would be less dangerous in the morning. When she could have Caldwell and Sheppard at her back, with Rodney talking his ear off.

The hand brushed across her hair again, and then he slid from her room.

Letting herself shiver in reaction, she began to unclench her fingers.

"Elizabeth." Sheppard's voice was soft in her ear.

"I'm good," she whispered.

"We got all of it, Elizabeth. Enough to nail him to the wall."

"Has he visited anyone else?"

"Not yet, doctor." Caldwell's voice was professional and calm. "Sounds like we're going to have quite a party in the morning."

"Yeah." Pulling her hand out from under her pillow, Elizabeth flexed her fingers and sat up. "Everyone, try to get some sleep, ok?"

"Sure." Not sounding sleepy at all, Sheppard fake-yawned over the radio. "I'll just lean back in my chair here, and keep an eye on our ambassador."


"I'm not sleeping while he's here, Elizabeth."

"Caldwell will take the second watch," she ordered, knowing he was right. "Four hours, then you sleep."

"And who relieves him?"

"We all do."


It was almost anti-climactic. Colonel Sheppard and several very alert marines escorted the ambassador from his quarters to the gateroom. Elizabeth stood in front of the gate and looked at him. "I'm afraid, Ambassador, that we'll have to decline your offer. We happen to like Atlantis in our hands."

"I don't understand," the man murmured, peering at her, trying to meet her eyes, "It should have--"

"Oi!" Doctor Jones, who'd asked to be there to see the man off, stepped between them. "Look, Ambassador, no offense, but don't you try that shit on Doctor Weir."

"Very well."

Elizabeth called, "Dial the gate."

In the control room, Rodney and the new gate technician dialed the planet they'd decided to leave the ambassador on--if he even was an ambassador. It was empty, but there was food and shelter there. And if he had any knowledge of the 'gate system, he could eventually come back. But Elizabeth balked at killing the man. After all, he wasn't a Wraith.

"You will come to regret this, my dear," his voice had changed, thickened slightly.

"Perhaps." Crossing her arms over her chest, Elizabeth moved out of the way as the gate kawooshed open. "Get him out of here."

Three marines escorted him to the gate and pushed him through. A moment later, the gate shut down.

"Well," Rodney called from the balcony. "Now that's over, I think it's time for a little cake. In celebration."


A sound echoed in the gateroom, a sort of wheezing, groaning sound. The sound was followed by the appearance of a Police Box. A moment later the door opened and a skinny in a pin-striped suit stepped out and headed straight for Elizabeth. "I'm not too late, am I? You haven't--"

He was stopped by Sheppard and a marine. "Hold it!"

"Oh, no, you have. I can tell. 'Cause he's not here, oh, this is bad. Very very bad." The man shook his head in consternation and gave Elizabeth a reproachful look. "And the history books always say you're such a very intelligent and thoughtful leader. And you just let the Master walk right through your hands and out into the universe."

"Who are you?"

"That's not the issue. This is not going to look good. Really, and furthermore--"

"Oh, shut up, Doctor."

He paused and turned to stare at Doctor Jones. "Do I know you?"

"No." She crossed her arms, and Elizabeth thought there might have been uncertainty in her eyes, but it was gone a moment later. "But you are him. You're different, of course, but the attitude, the blue box... Mum never told me you were such an ass, though."

"Your mum? I don't deal in mothers, I--Oh, hang on." He pulled a pair of spectacles from his pocket and put them on, squinting, "You are familiar. What's your name?"

Deciding this had gone on long enough, Elizabeth stepped forward. "Doctor...?"

"Doesn't matter," he turned away from Doctor Jones, dismissing her. "Doctor Weir, what planet did you just send the Master through to, because there's this little bit of a problem in that now he's loose. And that really shouldn't be. Not now, anyway."

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that. Now, if you'll just explain yourself, we can--"

"Doctor." Erin Jones interrupted Elizabeth, her gaze intent on the man. "I know where they've send him." She shot Elizabeth an apologetic look. "If this man really is what my mother says he was, he needs to know to avert the end of the universe or something drastic. And, if he isn't, well... chemists really are rather a dime a dozen."


"Oh, good!" Suddenly moving with a speed Sheppard and his friend weren't prepared for, the Doctor reached out and grabbed Doctor Jones' hand. "When I say it--"

"RUN!" She snapped, shoving him back towards the blue box.

Bemused, Elizabeth reached out and caught Sheppard's arm before he could attempt to fire. In the second it took him to resist her pull, the two made it back through the doors of the police box. "I don't think we can stop them," she murmured.

A moment later, the sound started again and the box faded from existence. Sheppard lowered his gun and sighed, "Great. What next, little green men claiming to have Elvis with them?"

"Maybe they'll bring back Steve Dallas' brain," suggested Rodney. At their blank looks, he snorted, "Fine. I'm going back to my lab to tell Zelenka that we've lost Erin to some idiot in a box."

"Colonel Caldwell, will you and Doctor Beckett make sure the rest of the Atlanteans have been inoculated against the drug? And please confiscate any remaining portions and have them destroyed." Elizabeth nodded a dismissal to all of them and then headed up the stairs to her office.

There was still a mountain of paperwork to get through, and it wouldn't magically do itself. Sadly.

Not to mention the report to write up for this little adventure.




"Hrm?" Elizabeth looked up from the stack of paper. She'd made decent progress, but there was still at least another day's work to handle.

Sheppard propped himself against the door and eyed her, "When I was drunk, I seem to recall..."

"You were drunk, colonel, not responsible for your actions."

"But you were, too."

"No." She shook her head, "I was mostly sober. Besides," a smirk tipped her lips, "I don't take advantage of men in an incapacitated state."

"Well, Elizabeth," stepping away from the door, he sauntered over and looked down at her, "What do you do with men who are in complete control of their faculties?"

"That, colonel, is a different story all-together."

"So tell me. Doctor."

Elizabeth stood and capped her pen neatly, "I have a better idea. John."

"Oh really now?"

"Mhmm. I could," Elizabeth murmured as she stepped past him--just close enough to feel the heat of his body, "show you."

"Do I get to see you naked?"

Elizabeth chuckled and looked back over her shoulder, "Maybe."

"Well," John clapped his hands and bounced on his feet, "Let's go, then."

Snorting at his eagerness, Elizabeth left her office, colonel Sheppard trailing her. She didn't mention the other reason she hadn't taken advantage of him--alcohol tended to leave men unable to get it up.