Neighbour

The man next door is a widower. Single parent, two kids.

Jack never asks how his neighbour's wife died. He just remembers the eye-catching black clothing, the subdued children, the man who sat on his back steps with his head in his hands, shoulders shaking in the misty twilight. Jack sat quietly on his roof, carefully not noticing until the man got up off the steps and went back into the house.

It's a hard thing to lose a loved one. Jack knows.

But after Charlie died and Sara left, he didn't have the personal reason to keep going - not like this man.

If anything, he envies the man his purpose. He envies him his children.

The boy is about eleven. Solemn and stubborn, and just getting to the age where a smart kid can think through enough arguments to make a parental 'no' a major headache.

The girl is eight. Chirpy and precocious, she sits out in the front- or backyard and talks to herself and her toys.

Jack watches them when they're playing in the yard and he's on his verandah. He waves 'hi' to the father when their paths cross - usually as Jack climbs into his car to go out to the mountain, and the man climbs out of his car to go into the house.

Occasionally, the other guy hands over Jack's mail that got delivered to the wrong house, and when autumn comes and the leaves get too much, Jack loans the guy his leafblower for the yard.

It's the neighbourly thing to do, after all.

They don't actually talk to each other. They're men of the world.

He doesn't know what the other man does. He could be an accountant or a computer geek or a gas station attendant. He might even be USAF - there are certainly enough around - except that he's never seen any hint of it.

He wonders what his neighbour thinks of him. Of the hours he keeps. Of the people who come to visit him - Carter and Daniel and Teal'c and Jonas.

He wonders what it would be like to live a 'normal' life: wife, kids, nine-to-five job, ignorance.

Jack has never had a 'normal' life. Even when he had Sara and Charlie.

'Wife' meant someone you didn't dare tell your secrets to, because she needed the ignorance to preserve her sanity. 'Kids' meant someone you sired but rarely had the time to really father. 'Nine-to-five' meant away from home five-to-nine months of the year.

And Jack has never been blessed with ignorance.

So he envies the normality of what the guy next door has. Even amidst the grief of loss and the struggle of loneliness, the guy has a routine that he follows - a familiarity that buoys him, supports him when everything is going to hell.

Then one day the baseball lands in his yard instead of in theirs. He hears the admonition of his neighbour to 'let Dad handle this' - as if Jack is some kind of a monster that should be dealt with using gloves and a poker.

He sighs and puts down the book he's been trying to read. He didn't get very far, not with the shouts, squeals, and encouragements of the game next door. It reminds him too much of other days.

Down the stairs and across the lawn to the baseball as the other man peers over the fence. "Home run?" He asks as he walks back across the yard with the errant ball.

A wry smile twists the man's face. "I think they're celebrating the win even now." Certainly there are enough whoops and yelps coming from the yard behind the guy. Jack glimpses a boy leaping about, the bat still in his hand, thumping against the ground as he jumps up and down, his younger sister sitting in the grass several yards away and yelling for all she's worth.

"Quite a handful," Jack comments.

"You have no idea." The curiosity burns like a candle in the cold winter dark. "No kids of your own?"

Jack shakes his head. "Nah. No time." He doesn't mention how he once had a son and lost him. That is not what the man cares to hear.

He sees the pity flicker momentarily across the guy's expression - as well as other things; more curiosity, a wary calculation, a kind of compassion.

"You any good at baseball?"

He shrugs. "I can hit the ball."

The other guy snorts. "You're already ahead of me. Join in?"

It's an odd request - not one that he ever expected. But the afternoon has been long and he doesn't have much else to do…

"Sure."

Thirty minutes, and he's caught out - by Carter. She's standing at the junction of the yards, watching the melee with amusement written plain across her face.

"Ahh... Hey, Carter."

The smile deepens, just a little. "Sir."

Jack's aware that his neighbour has just run a hand through his hair, grooming it in what is probably just an unconscious desire to look good before a rather attractive woman. "Uh...Wanna bat?"

"I would if we weren't due to meet Teal'c, Daniel and Jonas in fifteen minutes."

Whoops. Jack hands the bat to the kid. "Forgot."

She tosses the ball to the father, but keeps the smile for Jack. "You were having fun." It's all the forgiveness he needs.

But Jack narrows his eyes at her, he's in a good enough mood to tease her a little. "You know what fun is, Carter?"

She rolls her eyes at him and turns to the neighbour. "Sorry to interrupt your game."

"It's fine," the neighbour says, easily. "Really."

"Maybe next time you can play too," the son says, offhandedly.

She doesn't disabuse the kid of the notion, but smiles, "Maybe." She tilts her head in the direction of the street. "Want me to wait out in the car, sir?"

Jack shakes his head. "You can call the guys from inside and say we're running late. I need a shower." He turns to the guy next door and holds out a hand. "Thanks for the game." It's been a while since he's played with kids.

The man shrugs but takes his hand, a little embarrassed by the gratitude. "A pleasure. Thanks for playing."

The boy wanders over to have his hand shaken like a real grown-up, and the girl attaches herself to Jack's leg and has to be prised off by her father.

"Got a fan, sir?" Carter murmurs, sotto voce as she follows him into his house.

He turns and gives her the 'you-be-quiet' look and she subsides, although her smile doesn't.

He glances out the window of his bedroom as he picks out his clothing for the evening. The kids are now arguing over who gets to bat, and the father is trying to separate them. In the end, the boy storms into the house and the girl bursts into tears, and the guy picks her up and takes her into the house, his expression strained.

It's not an easy life being a father.

Jack showers and changes, drags the book on military strategy out of Carter's hands and locks his door as she goes down the path to her car. The guys know they're going to be a bit late - he heard her on the phone while he was in the bedroom. It's nothing fancy, just dinner with his friends - a small social conceit, and one he treasures. He's not all alone, in the end.

As he climbs into the passenger seat of Carter's sleekly classic Volvo and adjusts the chair seat to accommodate his legs, he glimpses the twitch of his neighbour's curtain as the guy watches them leave and considers, for the first time, that maybe his neighbour envies him a little.

No kids, free lifestyle, an attractive companion driving a sporty little car...

The street of envy runs both ways, after all. They all want to have their cake and eat it too.

Of course, the thing with cake, is that you can always share it with someone else if you like.

Maybe next time, Jack will be the one to issue the invite to his neighbour to do something away from his usual life. A barbecue or a game or something.

It's a neighbourly thing to do, after all.

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