The Pegasus Tango
A Stargate Atlantis Fan Fic
Summary: An AU, Save Steve fic. What if the SGA scientists had found something interesting before exploring Hoff? What if something bizarre had happened a few months after? What if said bizarreness had long-term consequences?
Steve/OC/Team/(eventually Todd)
Warning: flashbacks and wraith-psych exploration.
Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate Atlantis, Steve, and/or any other SGA character. This story is for entertainment purposes only, and is strictly not-for-profit. The only things I own are: Dr. Mira Sheckle, The Glove, the plot, and other OC/plot-related bits.
Prologue: Hiiissssssss!
(translation: Dammit!)
It was all the glove's fault.
Leather creaked. Supple armor knocked against calf and thigh as coat panels fanned out from a spin and suddenly changed direction. Ivory hair slapped back and chest, white whipping black, as long strands mirrored the coat's action.
That damn glove…!
The wraith wearing the coat swiftly paced the length of the room, hissing viciously as he punched the wall before stalking back the other way. He flexed his fingers, then raked the air with his claws on the next spin.
This wasn't happening!
Knock, slap. Fan, whip. Hair pattered on leather, filling the air with a sound like rain every time the wraith changed course. The soft sound contrasted sharply with the angry pacing of his footsteps. Knock, slap. Fan, whip.
It couldn't be happening! Shouldn't!
Organic walls, blackish-blue and orange-veined, loomed on all sides. The room was barely five strides across. This space. The wraith's personal space… It'd never felt so confining before. A lower, less violent hiss spat past clenched teeth.
Knock, slap. Fan, whip.
Had the room always been this small?
Knock, slap. Fan, whip.
"HIIISSSSSSSSSS!"
The wraith spun mid-pace, stopping in the middle of the room with a resounding snap of leather. Fingers flexed as ivory hair pattered to a halt. His yellow eyes darted around the space, unfocused, looking beyond the familiar surroundings, as if seeing something else. Abruptly, the wraith's head whipped towards the door. His gaze fastened on a point slightly left of the framing chitin's base.
A hiss, barely audible, marred the lengthening silence.
He shouldn't— He couldn't—
The wraith spun furiously. His pacing resumed.
Knock, slap. Fan, whip. Knock, slap. Fan, whip.
That damn glove!
Knock, slap. Fan, whip.
What the HELL was he supposed to do?!