Warning: Language, thoughts of someone with a bad past associatedwith her marks, angst, slight sexual harassment, and bullying.

Back to Stella P.O.V.

As soon as Steve left the room, I flopped back onto the bed and groaned loudly while throwing up my hands to cover my eyes and kicked my feet a few times against the mattress in glee. I had found them, all three of them, and who would have thought that all three of them would have been together and in the heart on Manhattan? Definitely not me! I thought they might have been from South America because that's where the majority of roses grew, or from somewhere where roses had a special meaning, or where rose was in the name of the place they lived. I would have never thought that three superheros, three of the worlds mightiest hero's, would be represented by a delicate and some-what feminine flower.

Tony I could understand to a small degree. His rose on my mark had turned a deep red and was on top of a corsage like arrangement with my other marks. He was a deeply passionate man about everything he was invested in and cared about if the tabloids were to be believed, and though he had a snarky and passive aggressive type of voice and humor, every time he looked at me I could see a softness and a gentleness in his eyes that I knew was just for me. It was also the same shade of red as his Iron Man suit so that was a give away as well.

Clint on the other hand didn't seem like a very soft man to me so far. After all, the first time I saw him he was falling out of a vent and wearing all leather from his sleeveless vest down to his boots. There was absolutely nothing wrong with that though, honestly I found it quite attractive. His rose had turned a deeper purple and now instead of one purple rose he had two and a purple hawk flying to the right of my cluster of roses. I thought this new interpretation of him suited him perfectly, after all he was known as Hawkeye, and from our touch bonding, I knew just how much he loved the feel of being up high.

Now Steve, sweet Steve, I could see why I had a rose symbolizing him on my arm. It wasn't because he was soft, or because of the time he was from, it was because of how he treated me. When he was with me earlier, he held me so softly, so gently, but firmly that I had no doubt that should he have needed to move me he could have. While at the same time he was treating me like the most the precious gem in the world. I guess to him I might be? How long did he go thinking that his mate might have been dead? Well now he didn't have to worry, and his one rose had turned to three beautiful deep blue roses that were under the red rose in my flower arrangement. There were flecks of gold throughout my mark that I assumed symbolized me, because I knew I didn't have anymore soulmates, but that was just an assumption since I haven't seen my marks on them yet.

Soulmates. S-O-U-L-M-A-T-E-S. Plural. Multiple. Well Shiitake Mushrooms! I had tried to prepare myself for this moment for my whole life, but now that it was here, I was overwhelmed and my mind went back to my past. I turned on my side on the bed and ran my fingers gently over my soulmark as my mind began to spin out of control. Ever since my marks showed up as a kid I was ecstatic, I didn't realize that it was rare for someone to have more than one soulmate, so the next day when I ran up to my best friend Cynthia at school and showed her my arm, I was unprepared for her reaction. The disgust that filled her 8 year old face as she backed away from me with a finger pointed at me. The word "Freak" being yelled at me for the first time and catching the attention of all of my classmates. Whispers passing from child to child as everyone backed away from me like I had an infectious disease that could kill them as they all pointed and laughed at me. I vividly remember the tears running down my face and running to the teacher for help, but she just sneered at me and told me to take a seat. I ran home from school sobbing that day with scraped knees from how many times I had been shoved and called freak. From that day on I only wore long sleeved shirts even in summer, and made sure my marks were always covered. But I cherished them.

I thought it might get better as the years went by, but as I said, someone with more than one soul mark was rare, and my childhood best friend never forgot. She felt the need to tell everyone, so it didn't matter that we weren't in the same class anymore. Everyone on the playground knew, and soon I didn't have any friends and couldn't find any either. When the bullying was happening, no matter if it was verbal or physical, I would end up in tears. I would turn to the teachers, but even they would turn away, because they thought I was unnatural. I was a freak according to everyone but myself and my mom.

By middle school, I was used to being pushed into walls and being called a freak, but kids are cruel, and teenagers even more so. After my first day in 7th grade I had to go home and ask my mom what the word "whore" meant and why I was being called one? What was a Slut? And my least favorite of all, bitch. So what if I had more than on person destined to love me? My mom just told me that it meant that I was special, that I was destined for great things. That's what I chose to believe, that I was destined for great things, but that didn't stop the words from hurting. It seemed like everyday I would cry myself to sleep while caressing my marks, but I always took comfort from them. With the possibility of meeting my mates in my heart that's how I fell asleep every night.

High School was hands down the worst period of time in my life. They say High school is either the best or the worst of your teen years. Yeah it was definitely the worst for me. My eyes closed and a few tears leaked out of my eyes as High School flashed behind my eye lids like a movie. Without any friends to back me up or stand up for me, I was on my own. The usual insults followed me every day as they were thrown at my back and to my face. Whore. Slut. Freak. Bitch. Wanna-a-be. Trash.

With those insults, came a new round of torture. While it was the girls who did the name calling, it was the boys who would sometimes take the bullying to a different level. They would shove me against lockers and pin my smaller body there and laugh as I would have to struggle to get free. When I would be pushed, it wouldn't be into a locker, it would be onto my hands and knees where boys would surround me and mock me as I scrambled to pick up my books and school supplies. As I would walk, a random hand would reach out and grope me somewhere and no matter how fast I would turn around or look around, I would never be able to identify anyone.

These were the times when I leaned on my mom the most. I was depressed, but I had hope. I saw a light at the end of the dark tunnel that was high school, and when I graduated it was the happiest day of my life. I was done with these people and with their holier-than-thou attitude. I could move on with my life and finally be happy. There was a set back when my mom died, but now I was here. In the Avengers tower. Surrounded by freaking superheroes, and my soulmates. I had found my light at the end of the tunnel. Three lights to be exact, and so far it seemed like they wanted me, and I wanted them.

A gentle hand on my shoulder had me opening my eyes groggily and turning my upper half slightly to see who was behind me. Bruce was kneeling by the bed and looking at me with a concerned expression on his face.

"You should be getting some sleep. You're body has been through a lot today and so have you."

I nodded because I totally agreed with him. My limbs were sore, my head ached, and I had a heavy feeling in my chest. "I know I should. My brain was just taking me down bad memory lane."

"Memories can be tough. I get it. Sometimes I find it hard to deal with mine, but there's always something that helps us deal."

"How do you deal with them?" I asked him as I turned onto my other side to face him fully.

"With classical opera and tea." He smiled and took his glasses off. "It helps me deal with what I've done as the . . . other guy . . . and keeps me in a good mental state."

"The other guy? You mean The Hulk?" I questioned.

"Yeah. You'll find something to help you cope with the bad memories too soon enough I bet. Something tells me those three clowns in the common room are going to play a big part in that as well."

"Until then what do you think I should do?"

"Sleep. I'll give you something to help you sleep tonight and by morning you will feel brand new."

I barely registered the small pinch in my arm as fuzziness started to cloud my vision and I started to fall asleep. I felt a warm comforting feeling thrum through my mark just as the last of my conscious mind slipped away, and I barely heard the quiet "goodnight." from Bruce as I fell into dreamland.