Some nights a light is left on in someone's room, someone works till the sun comes back, or just stares into space heart filled with regrets. On those nights they find no solace in sleep, their dreams are plagued with fears and regrets long ago buried.
On those nights Tony stays in his lab working on his suit, ensuring he is prepared for battle, a cup of coffee sits untouched by his elbow as he tightens a screw or takes something apart. On those nights he thinks about how useless he is in comparison to the rest of his team and wonders when they will realize what he already knows and leave.
On those nights Bruce sits in a rocking chair, his eyes are moving across a page but he never truly reads. On the pages he sees how people see himself, a monster with no control, a time bomb, a beast. On those nights he stares at the single bullet nestled between the pages and wonders if this time, this time he can slay the beast within.
On those nights Steve wakes from a nightmare shivering, his lungs aching as they recall what he had thought was his last breath being a paralyzing rush of icy water. Gasping he turns on the shower full blast and stands under the water till his skin nearly blisters from the heat. On those nights he doesn't feel like a fearless leader, only a skinny asthmatic kid from Brooklyn.
On those nights Natasha abandons her bed in favor of a lounge chair on the roof where she can see the stars pure and twinkling. As she lays there she whishes on the stars, whishing for things she would never say aloud, wishing for forgiveness for her past deeds. On those nights though love may be for children she wishes for it all the same.
On those nights Thor sits gazing at a worn picture of Loki and himself when they were young and he smiles gently as he remembers how he and his brother once was. In his mind's eye he can see the unnoticed warning signs of Loki's slow decent into madness and slowly his hand involuntarily crumples the paper. On those nights he hangs his head wondering if Loki really was the bad guy all along.
On those nights Clint is huddled in the corner of his room, the walls are too big, and he's just too small, too exposed. Every creak and groan in the house spikes his adrenalin to the point that he's hyperventilating. He stares at the small part of window he can see from his position and silently wills the sun's fingers to stroke the blinds. On those nights he shuts his eyes tight and mumbles a lullaby long ago silenced.
Some nights are harder than others, it may seem as if you pull yourself up just to be knocked down again, and you wonder if it's worth the fight, but always after some nights there come those days. Those days when you are among friends and you just sit together and feel the connection you have, the warm silence that says that you are never alone. Some nights a little piece of you may die, but those days are the ones worth living for.