A/N: The movie, Spanglish, was written and directed by James L. Brooks
Twitter: gocubsgo1717
It's a Sunday. No mission, no training, just a Sunday in the desert. They had gotten a day off, a fluke in the system or something. The sun is starting to set and the heat of the desert is about to cool significantly. He sits under the only shade he can find: a fig tree just past the edge of the camp. He flips through the letters he's gotten from Parker and wonders why he hasn't heard from her. He guesses she's probably just busy making history changing discoveries and essentially rewriting textbooks.
He still has an unopened envelope from his son, a letter that came in the mail the day before. He thinks of saving it for a bad day, a day when he needs to be cheered up. But that's every day, he realizes. So he rips apart the envelope and takes in his son's crooked handwriting. He's all smiles as he reads about Parker's hockey game and the hat trick he scored, the A+ he got on a history project about President Lincoln and the Jeffersonian's science fair. But when he reads Parker's next words, his heart begins to ache.
Max told me to send this to you. Look inside! There's a picture of me and Bones!
He looks at the brochure that Parker had enclosed. It's for the after school science program that the Jeffersonian puts on. He opens the first flap and sure enough, she and his son stare back at him. Both in their lab coats, they hold beakers containing a mysterious liquid, their smiles nearly identical.
He hears footsteps but doesn't look up. He knows it's only Davis.
"What's going on, Sarge? You wanna come play some football? The guys and I need one more body to make the teams even."
He shakes his head. "Nah, you guys go ahead. I'm just gonna chill out for a while."
Davis takes a seat next to him. "You alright?"
"Yeah. I'm fine, " he answers.
"There a reason you're looking into a kids' science program?"
"Huh?"
Davis taps on the brochure.
"Oh, um, my son's in the program. He's in the flyer." He passes it to Davis and points out Parker.
"Hey, he's a good lookin' kid…tough like his old man. Is, uh…is that her?"
"Yep," he answers shortly.
"Wow, Sarge. She's smokin'. I know you said that before, but…wow."
He smiles. "I know."
"How long have you known her?"
"Six years."
"And you haven't…"
"Nope."
"Why?" Davis cries.
"She's different. She's not a normal woman. They should name a gender after her. Looking at her doesn't do it. Staring is the only way that makes any sense. And trying not to blink, so you don't miss anything. And she's more than just beautiful. She's ridiculously intelligent. She's got this knack for making me feel stupid, but she never means it. It's just this thing she does that drives me absolutely insane. And she doesn't know it, but she's really funny when she's not trying too hard. And she's an incredibly great writer. Her books are bestsellers every time. She's famous for it, and she doesn't understand why. But her writing is just…incredible." He goes on for a few minutes and Davis listens patiently. He describes her views on marriage and love, citing those as the reasons she shot him down.
"Damn, Boss, that's a tough break. You gonna try again when you get home?"
He shakes his head. "I gotta move on. And I told her that. I need to find someone who really wants to be with me, wants what I want."
"I hear ya," Davis agrees, "We'll find you someone, Sarge. Don't you worry, the boys and I got you covered."
He laughs dryly. "Yeah, and who are we going to meet here?"