There was a couple of beeps coming from behind Tony's Audi, a grunt and then someone's voice—Morgan's, Rhodey knew—saying, "Maybe like this?"
Another beep.
"What? I'll try again."
Rhodey rounded the car and sure enough found Morgan seated on the ground of the garage surrounded by Tony's robots, Dum-E and U.
Dum-E was holding an empty coke bottle in its claw while U held up a Stark Pad that had a YouTube video on pause.
And scattered in front of Morgan were pencils, scotchtape—was that a bottle of wine?
"Morgan, what are you doing?"
Morgan jumped in surprise. Even Dum-E drew its claw back hastily, beeping rapidly, while U whirled around.
Morgan clutched her chest. "You scared me!" and then as quickly as she was startled, she recovered and said, "Hi, Uncle Rhodey!" She waved cheerfully at him, like she hadn't just gotten caught with a bottle of Tony's expensive wine.
"Hi," Rhodey replied slowly, crouching beside her and lifting the bottle of wine. "Watcha doing there? You planning on drinking this by yourself?"
"No," said Morgan simply.
"Where'd you find this?"
"Over there." Morgan pointed at her dad's wine cabinet.
"You know this is for adults, right?"
"I know! I'm not drinking it. I just need the cork." Morgan wasn't stupid. Mommy and Daddy made her have a sip of wine once when she begged them to; she never asked for wine again after that.
That wasn't a good enough reason for Uncle Rhodey, though, because he asked again, "What do you need the cork for?"
"The YouTube video said that I need a cork, an empty bottle, pencils, um," she turned to U for help, eyebrows drawn as she thought back to the video, "baking soda—"
"Are you making a bomb?" Rhodey quipped.
Morgan laughed. "No. A rocket!"
"A rocket?!"
"Yep. I'm gonna send Daddy some letters. A lot of people write him letters but he can't write them back. If I send him the letters with some paper and pencils, maybe he can!"
Morgan knew ghosts didn't have a body but if she sent the tools up to the sky, then maybe the pencils would become ghosts too. It was worth a shot.
Uncle Rhodey's eyes softened and Morgan knew he wouldn't try to stop her.
"Oh, wow. And who told you could get a cork from the bottle of wine?"
"Friday!"
"Friday, huh?" Uncle Rhodey glanced up at the ceiling, "Friday?"
"Yes, Colonel Rhodes?"
"You giving Morgan ideas?"
"She asked me where she could get a cork inside the house. I answered accordingly."
Uncle Rhodey shook his head, chuckling. "Why don't you show me this YouTube video so I can help you out?"
The idea was to build a rocket using baking soda and vinegar. Rhodey understood the science behind it. He also knew it wouldn't reach space which was where Morgan wanted it to go.
He didn't tell her that, though, knowing it would be best to let her see that on her own.
"Alright, Einstein, if we want to make this rocket blast off, we're gonna need some safety goggles, a lab coat, some gloves—"
"What do we need those for?" Morgan interrupted. They weren't in the video after all.
"Because we have to look cool," Uncle Rhodey said in an exaggerated whisper.
Morgan grinned. That was good enough for her.
Properly attired (well, as proper as one could pass off using swimming goggles, jackets, and winter gloves) minutes later, Morgan and Uncle Rhodey had moved the materials from the ground to a table in the garage and were taping the pencils around the plastic bottle.
"Yeah, really wrap it around," encouraged Uncle Rhodey.
He showed Morgan how to tape the first pencil around the bottle and let her do the last two. Dum-E held the spout of the bottle and twisted it around while Morgan enjoyed letting the tape roll over it.
Afterwards, they tested it to see if the pencils served as a proper stand for the bottle.
"What'd you think?" Uncle Rhodey asked Morgan. "Does it look stable to you?"
"Uh-huh."
They gave each other a high-five.
"Next?"
"We design the rocket!" Morgan said.
They taped a couple of fan art around the rocket's "body" and Uncle Rhodey helped her attach the rocket's fins on the sides and the cone on top. They were made from her stationary pad so that Daddy would have something to write on.
"Now, it looks like a rocket." Uncle Rhodey said, nodding in approval.
"You think Daddy's gonna like it?" Morgan shyly asked. Now, that the rocket was actually done and she might have a chance of sending it up, she was feeling a little bit nervous.
"Are you kidding me? There's Iron Man on the rocket!" Uncle Rhodey rubbed the top of Morgan's head sending her in a flurry of giggles. "He's gonna love it!"
Morgan smiled, feeling a little better. "Okay. Do you have the rocket fuel?"
Uncle Rhodey snorted. "Of course I got the rocket fuel! I'm War Machine. I always got the fuel." He lifted up a narrow packet of tissue-wrapped baking soda. In his most theatrical voice, he said, "Let's light this baby up."
Morgan grinned.
They went outside to the lawn. Morgan carried the rocket and a funnel while Uncle Rhodey held the bottle of wine and a glass of vinegar.
"Houston, let's find ourselves a nice launch pad."
Morgan surveyed the area and found a smooth patch of grass. She looked back at her godfather who pulled out the cork from the wine bottle with his mouth, pocketed it, and then brought the bottle directly to his lips. He drank as he walked towards her.
"That's good stuff," he said when he reached Morgan, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Morgan wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "Orange juice is better."
"You say that now," Uncle Rhodey retorted.
He put the wine bottle down on the ground and crouched beside Morgan.
"Okay, hold the rocket upside down, please."
Morgan did as she was told.
"Put the funnel in, please."
"Funnel is in."
Uncle Rhodey poured the vinegar down the funnel.
"Now, kindly drop our rocket fuel in the bottle."
Morgan took out the tissue covered package from her own pocket and stuffed it down the open mouth of the bottle-turned-rocket.
As soon as that was done, Uncle Rhodey hastily stuck the cork on the bottle's opening, turned the rocket right side up and sat it on the ground, the three pencils acting as a sort of tripod stand.
He then grabbed Morgan's hand and they backed away.
They began their countdown starting from Five but had to say "three, two, one" in a hurry because the rocket had launched itself off the ground when they were only at Four.
Morgan cheered as it soared high, meters away from them, and then… it came back down, landing unceremoniously back on the lawn.
"Oh no!" Morgan cried, running to get the rocket. She turned it over in her hands, trying to see what was wrong with it. "Uncle Rhodey!"
Uncle Rhodey slowly walked over. He looked as sad as she did, except he didn't have tears welling up in his eyes.
"It didn't go. Why won't it go?" Morgan started to blink vigorously, anything to stop the tears from falling.
That didn't work at all.
She swiped at her eyes. "I don't know why I'm crying." They were so close! It was up there and then it went down.
"It won't go because it's not as strong as the big rockets." Uncle Rhodey put a comforting hand on her back and said, "And it's okay to cry."
"We have to make a big rocket!" Morgan insisted. The tears were all wiped away now and in their place was only determination.
Uncle Rhodey put two hands on her shoulders, calming her. "Hey! It's alright." He nudged her chin up. "You wanted Daddy to write some letters back to those people that sent them, right?"
Morgan nodded, sniffling.
"What do you think Daddy would say in his letters?"
"He'd say he loves them tons or three thousand or one million!"
"How do you know that?"
"Because he's Daddy and I just know!"
"Then the people know that too. Just like how you know, they know. Trust me, they know Daddy loves them, would do anything for them, even save the world."
Morgan looked at Uncle Rhodey, his eyes so sure and confident.
"Are you sure?" she asked him because grown ups always knew the right answer.
"I'm sure, because you're sure."
Morgan nodded taking a deep breath. She stood up and Rhodey took her hand.
"Now, we can't make a big enough rocket out here in your lawn. Mom's gonna kill us if we ruin her flowers."
That made Morgan laugh.
"What we need to do is go to NASA."
"NASA? What's NASA?"
"The National Anthony Stark Association of course!"