It had been a long night, nightmares abound, and finally Steve had given up trying to sleep. So he’d gone downstairs in the compound, working on taping his hands just right. He didn’t want to wake anyone up; they’d all been through enough – all of them had lost enough. It tore Steve apart inside in ways he didn’t want to talk about, compartmentalizing it and working his way through it. At least that’s what he told himself as he stanced and began taking swings at the bag, guilt and grief washing over him and making him punch harder as he stood there.