MGM owns SGA; KOI does NOT

Word Count: 950

McKeller Flash Fiction:

The Way to a Geek's Heart

GATEBOOK

by Koinekid

From: Jennifer Keller

To: Rodney McKay

Subject: Why haven't you signed up yet?

Rodney eyed the email with trepidation. Had the from line contained any other name, he'd have deleted it already. But he was meeting Jennifer for lunch later, and she'd expect him to have read it. He clicked open the message and read a single terse line:

Well, why haven't you?

He knew what she meant—Woolsey's newest morale-boosting initiative, an Atlantis-only social network he'd christened Gatebook. Rodney typed out a reply: Because it's a stupid popularity contest, and I have more important things to do.

Another message arrived almost immediately: If you sign up, I'll like you.

His eyes popped. Were they in elementary school? Do this, and I'll be your best friend.

"Like" me? he sent.

It used to be called friending, but now it's liking. (I think.) Sign up, so I can like you.

Rodney frowned. It would serve her right if he ended the conversation there. Instead, he accessed the intranet and surfed to Gatebook.

"Unbelievable." Rodney tapped refresh on his tablet. The page updated, but the data didn't change. "How does Chuck have more friends than me?"

Jennifer gifted her lunch companion with a patient smile. "Chuck is friendly, and he works in the gate room. Everybody knows him."

"Location, location, location," Rodney muttered.

"Don't forget attitude," Jennifer offered. The quip earned her a glare. Hands on her hips, she glared right back. That she managed to do so without cracking up pleased her greatly.

"Hold on. Half the people on his friends list never go off world. Accusation peppered Rodney's tone as he slid the tablet across the table. "How'd they get so chummy with a gate technician?"

"I don't know. Maybe they're on his bowling team."

"We have bowling on Atlantis?"

Jennifer pointed out the ball-and-pins icon on the wall beneath Chuck's profile. Rodney read the text beside it.

"Pegasus Pinheads? You've got to be kidding me."

"Don't make fun," Jennifer said. "He's good. You ought to see him in action."

Suspicion narrowed Rodney's eyes. "Have you?"

She nodded. "I do have a social life, my dear Doctor."

"One that includes bowling?"

"If a friend invites me, sure." Jennifer's cheeks grew hot. "Dad used to take me and Mom to Bowl-Winkles in Eau Claire."

"You bowled?"

"Sometimes," she answered irritably. "When I wasn't busy kicking butt in the arcade."

"Hustling the other kids out of their milk money, were you?"

"Ha. Ha." She stuck out her tongue.

The reference to Chuck as a friend got Rodney thinking. He checked, and sure enough, Jennifer was listed as one of the technician's newest Gatebook friends. In fact, she'd responded to an Evite Chuck sent out last week for the league semifinals: Wouldn't miss it. ;-)

Rodney raised a brow but stifled his comment. He followed a link to Jennifer's page and scanned through her profile. Badges signaled her affiliation with the Atlantis chapters of Mensa and the Johns Hopkins Alumni Association, while wall postings betrayed her love of classic cars, the works of H.G. Wells, and baseball—no shock there, since her dad played minor league ball in the seventies.

None of the information was new to Rodney. A few of the pictures she'd uploaded were, including one of her in a bowling shirt and jeans. He might rethink his stance on the so-called sport if it meant seeing her model the outfit in real life. Another picture showed her outside the gym, one hand on her hip and the opposite arm curled to show off her bicep. Ronon stood next to her, so closely that a nervous Rodney quickly checked on Jennifer's relationship status. Single, it said, and he sighed in relief.

Other pics had Jennifer at the collocated club with a couple of nurses, playing peekaboo with Torren in his mother's quarters, and—

"When was this?" Rodney asked.

One look at the screen, and Jennifer brightened. The picture revealed a positively radiant Jennifer Keller with her arms thrown around a mildly annoyed Rodney McKay.

"This was movie night," Jennifer said. "Right before your sister went home."

"After—" He pointed at the thin, white surgical scar below his hairline.

Momentarily sobered, Jennifer nodded.

Rodney squinted at the picture. He could just make out his sister's curly blond hair in the background. "No wonder you're so happy," he told Jennifer. "You'd finally gotten me out of your infirmary."

"I was happy," she scolded, "because my best friend was going to make a full recovery."

"Best friend?" He grinned smugly.

She shrugged. "Maybe not at the time, but now? Yeah."

"Funny," Rodney said. "I don't see that fact mentioned anywhere in your profile."

"You are such a child. Fine, hand it over."

Rodney watched eagerly while Jennifer tapped at the tablet's screen. Seconds later, a new post appeared on her Gatebook wall.

"Oh, come on," Rodney said. "That's not fair."

The post read: Jennifer Keller is best friends with Rodney McKay...even though he's a big baby.

"Play your cards right," she said. "Be very, very good, and I might remove that last part. Might even put up something nicer in its place."

He tried, and as the weeks passed, the big baby comment came and went. Its replacements ranged from the annoyed to the absurd, from and he's being awfully sweet today—what's he hiding? to and sometimes I wonder why, until one day it disappeared altogether.

After returning from a fateful first date on Earth, during which he showed her off, introduced her to a roomful of famous scientists, and—oh, yeah—rescued her from the brink of death, she replaced the post with these words:

Jennifer Keller is in a relationship with Rodney McKay...and she couldn't be happier.

The End

Thanks for reading. Reviews are appreciated.