Disclaimer: I don't own Space Cases. I don't even know anyone who's ever had anything to do with it, except for a couple of emails from Paul Boretski last year. I searched the Space Cases bible, found nothing on Goddard's private life, so I thought I'd make one up. Enjoy!

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Birdie Goddard rushed into her home, dropping her backpack right next to the door. "Papa? Papa, you home?" She heard no response. "Anyone?"

An elderly woman, who still managed to keep most of her black hair, came into the living room, staring at Birdie with the soft, ice blue eyes, that Birdie had inherited from her. In her native Spanish accent, she said, "He's not here yet. Come into the kitchen."

Birdie followed her grandmother into the kitchen. At the table, was the same snack that Emma left for her granddaughter every day: carrot sticks with ranch dressing and a glass of white cranberry juice. Birdie sat down and shoved a carrot in her mouth. "Where's Papa?"

"Who taught you to speak with your mouth full?" Emma asked sternly.

Birdie finished chewing, swallowed, and took a sip of her juice. "I'm sorry," she said. "Where's Papa?"

"He's not home yet," Emma answered. "And it's a good thing he's not. He wouldn't be happy about where you left your backpack."

Birdie jumped up and ran back into the main hall, grabbed her backpack, ran upstairs, and set it on her desk. She looked at her immaculate bedroom: no clothes on the floor, freshly dusted and vacuumed (smelling vanilla fresh, vanilla was Birdie's favorite scent), her desk was polished and straightened, and her bed was perfectly made. She usually had so much homework that she had to get up an extra half hour early just to make sure her room was clean before she left for school.

She went back downstairs and sat at the table again. She smiled at her grandmother.

"I trust you did not leave your backpack on the floor?" Emma asked.

"Not today," Birdie said, although she wished she hadn't said that. She always got in trouble when she left her backpack on the floor. Birdie started eating again, rather quickly.

Emma smiled for the first time since Birdie had gotten home. "You don't have to inhale those!" she said. "They're not going anywhere."

Birdie slowed down. When she finished her carrots, she got up, and went upstairs. She had been studying for nearly two hours when–

"Birdie? Emma? I'm home!" They could hear the door slam shut.

"Papa's home!" Birdie threw her notebook on the floor, then ran downstairs into the living room, right into her father's arms. Emma stood in the kitchen doorway and smiled at them.

"Finally!" Seth said, kissing his daughter on the forehead.

"Papa, how much longer are they going to make you work at the Starcademy?"

"Not for much longer," Seth said, looking his child in the eyes. "On Monday, I'll only have three weeks left working at the Starcademy. Then I'll be home for a week, but then they're sending me out again. I have to supervise a supply run. It'll only be two months. Do you want to go?"

"Sweet!" Birdie said.

Emma smiled. Birdie had been going on the supply runs for years, but she never tired of them.

"Liam's bringing Traylor, and Carly's bringing Jesse," Seth said. Jesse Madra had been Birdie's best friend since he and his family moved to Montreal (where his mother, Caroline, was raised) from Elysium Planitia (where his father, Gregor, was born and raised) when the kids were eight years old.

"Sweet," Birdie said again. "I can't wait."

Seth stood up. "I'm going to go change out of this uniform," he said, unzipping his Starcademy jacket. "I really do hate this uniform." He mumbled about regulations as he went upstairs to his room.

"Dinner will be ready soon," Emma told Birdie. "Go upstairs and finish your studies."

"Yes, ma'am," Birdie said, heading upstairs.

"Emma, that was a wonderful dinner," Seth said. Emma had fixed a wonderful dinner for them, as she always had on Fridays when Seth came home from the Starcademy: roasted garlic chicken, twice-baked potatoes, steamed broccoli, and sweet rolls. Birdie nodded in agreement.

"Thank you," Emma said, getting up from the table to begin clearing it.

"How would you like to go out for ice cream tonight?" Seth asked Birdie.

"Sweet," she said, smiling.

"You coming, Emma?" Seth said, standing up and wiping his hands on his cloth napkin.

"No, thanks," Emma said. "You run along."

"What about the–" Birdie started, pointing at the table.

"I'll clean it," Emma answered. "You two children run along."

No argument, Birdie thought. She followed her father out to his car and jumped into the passenger seat.

"Ahh," Seth said, as he buckled himself in. "I'm so glad to be home right now. You wouldn't believe it."

"Having a rough time?" Birdie asked. Seth started the car and drove off.

"There's these five students in my class," he explained, "and they're field tests are being suspended. And of course, it's going to be my job to watch them while the rest of their class is out there."

"Bummer for them," Birdie said. "Bad grades? Discipline problems?"

"Yes," Seth said, and Birdie giggled.

Birdie started talking about school, and they chatted until they got to the ice cream parlor. They went in, and Seth ordered a waffle cone filled with Rocky Road, and Birdie ordered a hot fudge sundae. They got their treat and sat down next to the window.

"Looks like we got here just in time," Seth said, watching a line form. Birdie smiled. "You know that I'm glad we got to do this."

"Go out for ice cream?"

"Hang out together," he said. "We definitely don't do this enough."

"We hang out at home when you're home," Birdie pointed out.

"It's not the same," Seth said. "I haven't been home enough since I got the Starcademy punishment." He shuddered at that thought. "I'm so glad I only have three weeks left there. School's almost out for both of us. I can't believe you're going to be an eleventh-grader next semester."

Birdie grinned.

"My baby's growing up way too fast," he said, sighing. "I just wish your mother was here to see it."

Birdie was now uncomfortable. Her mother had died when she was only five months old, and though she enjoyed hearing stories, she always felt uncomfortable when anyone talked so well about this woman that Birdie didn't even remember.

"Papa, do we really have to get all mushy?"

Seth laughed. "Nah," he said, smiling. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know," Birdie said, and Seth laughed again.

They finished their treats in silence. When they were done, they headed back to the car and got in. In the process of getting in, Seth spotted something in the backseat. They both buckled up, but Seth didn't start the car.

"We're not going anywhere," Birdie pointed out.

Seth looked at his daughter. "Are you in a hurry to get home?"

"Not really," she said. "Why?"

"Let's go do something that we haven't done in a while."

Birdie grinned.

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"You always used to be able to make that shot," Birdie told her father.

Seth, sweaty and out of breath, ran to go chase the basketball.

"Why am I the one doing all the running?" he asked breathlessly when he came back.

Birdie took the ball from him and started bouncing it. "You're the one doing all the missing," she said, laughing. "I guess you don't get much excersise grading homework, eh?"

He shook his head.

"You're still losing," she said. "We've been at this for two hours. Don't you think Grandmother is going to be upset that we didn't go straight home?"

Seth looked at his daughter. "I'm your father," he said. "If I want to take you to play basketball, I can." He looked at his watch. "But you're right. I am losing."

Birdie smiled at him, and they started to walk back to the car, Birdie bouncing the ball until she got to the door.

When they got home, their suspicions came true: Emma was up waiting for them.

"Where were you two?" she asked sternly. "And Seth, honey, why are you all sweaty and dirty?"

Birdie looked at Seth. "We stopped to play some basketball," Seth said. "I got my ass kicked."

"Seth!" Emma said. "Don't use that kind of language in front of the baby!"

Seth put his arm around Birdie. "It's okay," he said softly. "I trust her."

"Well, I don't," Emma said. "I'm going to bed." She disappeared upstairs.

Birdie looked at Seth. "Why doesn't she trust me?"

"It's not you, it's me," Seth said, even though he didn't know what that meant. "I'm going to take a shower. I suggest you get ready for bed."