A/N: Thank you everyone for your patience. I really appreciate it. This was a difficult chapter to write as I had no idea where I was going with this story when I started it and posted the first two chapters. Now I know where it's going and have even written the final chapter! This story will be approximately 6 chapters long. Thanks again and enjoy!

Elementary school was difficult for me. Not the subjects, those were easy. Especially math and science, which I love.

The hard part was talking to people. My first day of kindergarten was several months after my dad died. I remember not wanting to go. I remember crying on the way there and being upset until my mom finally got me into the classroom. After a while, she told me that she would take me home, but the teacher distracted me with a plastic marble maze set. She showed me how to build it and how to make the marbles go down the little slides. I was intrigued. I played with that toy for a week. After that, I got bored and upset until my teacher found a robot toy for me to build. That toy lasted for two weeks.

The rest of elementary school was like this. I usually was the quiet kid in the back of the classroom, building advanced robots, doing math for fun, and avoiding my peers.

Junior high was the same. I learned how to have short, polite conversations with other people so that they wouldn't think I was too weird. After all, I had started high school level math and sciences in fifth grade. But for all my smarts, all my genius, I couldn't really talk to my peers.

So when Stacey wanted to know how my dad died, I was shocked that she was even interested. The only people I had had personal conversations with were my mom, Happy, and Peter.

Stacey's reaction to "My dad was Iron Man," surprised me. She just gave me a small, little smile and said, "Well that's why you're so smart. Tony Stark was your dad."

Just then, a boy with dark hair poked his head into the room. "Stacey, mom wants you to help set up for the picnic. She said people will start to come in twenty minutes."

"Oh, whoops! Sorry Morgan, I lost track of time! Do you want to stay for the picnic?"

I felt my mouth drop open. I was speechless.

"Of course you don't have to, I just thought if you're not really doing anything else today." she stammered, trying to recover.

I thought about it, I really did. "Okay," I replied, shrugging. I supposed my mom would have Happy or Rhodey to keep her company, and I didn't really want to go home to cry just yet.

"Great!" Stacey said, standing up. "We can go help my mom set up, and later you can meet my cousins."

"Great," I repeated, suddenly shy. Ever since my dad's funeral I haven't been great around crowds of people.

I followed Stacey up the stairs and out into her backyard where five or so picnic tables were set up. A matronly woman with long, dark hair was spreading tablecloths onto them.

"Oh, good Stacey you're here," she said, smiling, "Is you friend staying?" "Yeah," Stacey replied, "Mom, the is my friend Morgan. Morgan, this is my mom." "Good to meet you, Morgan. We're glad to have you."

"Thank you," I replied shyly. I had never been great at meeting new people.

Shortly after, Stacey's cousins, aunts, uncles and various other people began to arrive. She introduced me to each one. Not as Morgan Stark, whose father died tragically to save the universe. No, to them I was simply her friend. And that was enough for them to accept me. I was enough.

After everyone was gathered at the tables to eat, Stacey's dad stood up and asked everyone to say whether they blipped or not and one thing they were thankful for.

I found this surprising and very touching. Many people mentioned the Avengers, who to them were simply the heroes that un-blipped everyone. And some were even thankful for my father. My eyes got suspiciously moist at every mention of his name.

I stayed at that beautiful celebration of life for much longer than I intended. I had enjoyed myself, but I couldn't help but feel guilty for not spending the day with my mom.

I walked up to Stacey to say goodbye, but she was busy. Her dad had her wrapped in a bear hug and was kissing the top of his head.

The sight of them together, happy, and whole tore me apart inside. How dare this family be so happy and whole when I was falling apart!

I rode home a hot mess. I needed to get out of there, to get away, as fast as I could, before I started crying.

How could he have done it? How could he have left me?

I needed my dad. So, so very much. My heart ached every time I thought of him, and sometimes the very thought of him made me explode with anger. How could he have done it? How could he have left me? I needed him. My mom needed him. There were so many times in my childhood when I needed his strong arms to protect me, his soft words to comfort me, and his gentle hands to wipe my tears away.

So I rode. I road my bike back home with so much anger and rage and so many tears falling from my eyes that I didn't see the bump in the dirt road until it was too late and I was flying into the ditch.

A/N: To my dear readers: I know you're out there. I'd love it if you'd drop me a line. For those of you who've never written a story, writing is a long and grueling process. Stories take time to completely form in the writer's head, even longer to get physically written down, and even longer to be edited (which I do 3-10 times before publishing a chapter). I've been writing a novel for 5 years now and it is only still in its infancy. In other words, if you have taken the 10 minutes to read the work that took me days (sometimes weeks and even months) to come up with, write down, and revise for you, I would like to know what you thought of it. If you loved it, I want to hear it. If you hated it, I want to hear it. If you're somewhere in between, I want to hear it. Your feedback helps inspire me to continue. And if I don't update for a while, please be patient and stick with me. Stories take time. If you've already reviewed (a BIG shoutout to JAG'ed Bones in the Casckett, mercedesalonso2004 and Carolyandunicorns), THANK YOU so very, very much!