What is it that disturbs you?

The chill of the water, creeping up the cloth of your trousers, as the blood drips from the ruins of your career?

No?

What disturbs your sleep?

The slow decline of your identity as you chase a way to fix that which you believed was all you were?

No?

What has you staring at the moon?

The deaths; crushing, suffocating, agonizing, torturous, continuous, dismembering, unending, fiery, destruction that were given to you by Dormammu?

No?

What makes you pace the darkened halls of your home?

The memories of all the ways it could have ended if you had failed; bringing the end to so many lives throughout the universe? Of the grief of losses unreturnable as you sought to prevent his course?

No?

What has you weeping in the night?

Ah. The loss of your love. So many ways you could have had his love; but not in this timeline. No. Victory was yours and love your sacrifice.