Here is the final chapter! Thanks for reading this story and please send ideas my way! Love y'all!
Natasha and I were playing with Samantha in the living room as Thor and Steve were playing cards at the kitchen table. Bruce, Tony, and Clint were trying to set up a new swing for Samantha. I could monitor their progress by listening to the various grumbles and insults that would come from the group.
"You would think that three superheroes, especially two geniuses, would be able to build a baby swing without any trouble..." Natasha said, receiving an indignant "Hey!" from Clint and more grumbling from the scientists. Steve and Thor snickered from the table and even Samantha laughed.
"Incoming call from Director Fury." Jarvis suddenly stated over the speakers.
"Accept." Steve replied, and Fury's face appeared holographically on the wall.
"Avengers. And Beth." he greeted, smiling slightly at the addition of my name. "I have news. News that is hard for me to give."
I gulped and pulled Samantha into my lap. Steve and Natasha shared a look. I began to think the worst. They have to take Samantha...
"I truly regret to inform you that we found Samantha's mother. Her name is Camille Dodson. You...you have to give Samantha back. Tomorrow. We will come by at noon with Camille to pick up the baby. I'm sorry." he finished and hung up, his face fading from the wall.
The only sound left in the room was the contented sounds of Samantha chewing on her hand. That is, until Tony grabbed what was built of the swing and knocking it into the ground before storming out.
We packed all of the baby stuff silently, taping the boxes shut without a word. We certainly weren't going to need it anymore, and we figured Camille would need it considering she dropped Samantha off with just the onesie she had on.
We all gathered in the living room, each holding Samantha one last time. She was sitting in my lap when Director Fury walked through the front door, followed by Camille.
Camille didn't look like someone who would abandon their baby, but I suppose nobody really does. She seemed really young, like nineteen or twenty, so I figured that was why she couldn't take care of Samantha very well.
Camille's eyes went wide and she rushed over to me, grabbing Samantha away. "There's my baby! How are you sweetie?" she said in a baby-voice and squeezed her child. The happy noises Samantha was making made me mad, as if the baby's coos showed that she loved her mother more than us. I just glared at Camille when she wasn't looking.
"Thank you so much!" she exclaimed. "I just wasn't-"
"At a point in your life where you could take care of her?" Clint said coldly, reciting from her letter that we all practically memorized. "We read your letter."
At that Camille finally noticed that we weren't exactly overjoyed that she was here. She looked to the side and cleared her throat. "Uh, right." she said, her voice squeaking a little. "I suppose we should go. Thank you..." she trailed and turned around. Samantha tried to turn and still look at us, whimpering.
"Ma'am?" Steve said. Camille whipped around and Steve walked up to her, towering over her small frame. "Take care of her, Camille. I hope you have all intentions of keeping her this time." he said, in a threatening tone I didn't know Steve had.
Camille blanched, gave a shaky nod, and walked out the door, Samantha crying now as they left. I suddenly sprang up from the couch when I saw Samantha's favorite stuffed animal, a little pink monkey, on the floor behind the chair. I grabbed it and ran outside.
"Camille!" I shouted. She turned around frightened, afraid I was Steve or something. I handed Samantha her monkey. She giggled and grabbed it and began sucking on its left leg. "We almost forgot her favorite toy." I say, my voice catching at the end, as I squeeze Samantha's leg. "Oh, she actually doesn't like pureed carrots, your child prefers peas. And we've gotten her used to baths for you, I guess." I told her, a single tear running down my cheek. "And don't forget to swing her around a lot when she is having trouble falling asleep, which usually does the trick. You better love Samantha with all of your heart, Camille, and if I find out you gave her up again..." I say, but don't finish. "You just...take care of my little sister, okay?" I turn around as sobs erupt and I run back into the house.
Samantha wails again as I shut the door behind me, sinking to the ground and burying my head between my knees.
I stayed in my room the rest of the day, just lying around on my bed. Natasha walked in around four-thirty. She sat on the edge of my bed and patted my leg.
"Hey there." she murmured.
"Hey." I glumly responded.
"Come here." she said, and I sat up. She hugged me for a bit.
"I just got so attached, ya know?" I said after a while, rubbing my sore eyes.
"We all did." Natasha replied. "It's hard letting her go. We had Samantha for a long time. But, she wasn't really ours. You can be mad at Camille all you want, but Samantha is her daughter, not ours. We just have to remember all the good times we had taking care of that baby." she comforted.
I swallowed. "Yeah..." I agreed.
"Miss Beth and Miss Romanoff." Jarvis piped up. "Mr. Rogers asked me to have you ladies proceed downstairs."
"Uh, okay." I said. "Thanks Jarvis."
"Of course, Miss Beth." the AI replied.
"Beth!" Thor shouted. "Another basket has been placed on our porch!"
You have got to be kidding me...I thought as I bounded down the stairs with Natasha in tow.
Everyone was crowded in the front entrance. Bruce grabbed a basket of the porch and brought it inside. "Wanna do the honors?" he dryly asked me.
I shrugged. "Sure. But if this is another baby, I'm gonna throw a fit." I say.
I barely lifted the corner of the blanket when a tongue licked me on the nose. What?
"I do not think that is a babe..." Thor commented.
I lifted the rest of the blanket to reveal a golden retriever puppy. It had a red bow around its neck with an embossed S.H.I.E.L.D. tag that read, "To my best team of babysitters. P.S. He likes to be scratched behind the ears."
I lifted the puppy out of the basket and hugged him close. "What should we name him?' I asked the group.
"How about Sam?" Tony suggested. The puppy yipped happily and licked my hand.
"Sam it is then, little guy." I said, holding him out at arm's length. "Nice to meet you, buddy."