The Avengers Compound hummed quietly, the only sound coming from the soft click of a computer as Steve Rogers turned it off. The news anchor's voice had barely left the screen before Steve, clearly troubled, pulled the plug on it, shutting out the image of the recent tragedy in Lagos. His gaze drifted toward Wanda's room, where the news was still playing, faintly drifting through the walls.

In Wanda's room, she sat on her bed, her face solemn as the news anchor continued with grim details about the Wakandan casualties. Eve, sitting cross-legged on the floor with her back against the bed, scrolled absently through her phone, her expression a mixture of boredom and forced indifference.

The news anchor's voice rose again. "What legal authority does an enhanced individual like Wanda Maximoff have to operate in Nigeria..."

Without warning, Steve stepped inside, picked up the remote, and turned off the TV. He found Wanda's gaze already fixed on the screen, her face a mask of guilt and sorrow.

Eve, who had been half-watching the exchange, piped up with a dry smirk, "Yeah if we're blaming ourselves, I call dibs on at least 30% of that explosion. Maybe 40%, if I'm feeling generous."

Wanda glanced at Eve, the smallest of smiles pulling at her lips, but it didn't reach her eyes. She wasn't convinced.

"I did more damage. I lost control," Wanda muttered, the weight of her words heavy in the air.

Eve shrugged. "Yeah, you lost control. I just have a flair for the dramatic. Different, but equally problematic."

Steve shot Eve a concerned but amused look, a slight chuckle escaping him.

"Eve..." he began, his tone gentle but firm.

"What? It's called coping, Dad. Maybe you've heard of it?" Eve leaned back against the bed, arms folded behind her head as she stared at the ceiling.

Wanda looked down at her hands, her fingers twitching slightly. "It doesn't matter. People still died. It's on me."

Steve let out a deep sigh, sitting down beside her. Eve shifted her position, her knees pulled up to her chest as she watched the two of them in silence, her usual humor replaced by an uncharacteristic seriousness.

"I should've clocked that bomb vest long before you had to deal with it," Steve said quietly, the weight of his words pressing on him. His voice dropped as he continued, the painful memory of his own guilt surfacing. "Rumlow said 'Bucky,' and... all of a sudden, I was a 16-year-old kid again, in Brooklyn. And people died. It's on me."

Wanda's voice was soft but insistent. "It's on both of us."

Eve's voice broke in, sharp but not unkind. "No, it's on Rumlow. Remember him? The guy who literally blew up a building? Let's not twist this into our fault when we were trying to save people."

Wanda met her eyes with a skeptical glance, her brow furrowed.

"You always make jokes," Wanda said quietly. "Doesn't this get to you?"

Eve leaned forward, smirking. "Oh, it's getting to me. I'm just better at hiding it. Years of practice, Maximoff."

Wanda's expression softened for a moment, but her gaze fell again, troubled. She met Eve's eyes, searching for something—reassurance, perhaps.

"You were there, Eve. You saw what happened. I could've done more. I should've—"

Eve cut her off, her voice suddenly serious. "No, you couldn't. You did everything you could. I did everything I could. And sometimes, it still sucks. Welcome to the glamorous life of being a superhero. They don't put that in the training manual."

Steve nodded slowly, his face lined with experience. "This job... we try to save as many people as we can. Sometimes that doesn't mean everybody. But if we can't find a way to live with that, next time... maybe nobody gets saved."

Eve's voice was quieter now, her words heavy. "And that's not something any of us want on our conscience. Trust me, I've got enough guilt for a lifetime already."

A long silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken understanding. Eve looked back and forth between Wanda and Steve, before sighing and hopping off the dresser. She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at them.

"So what now?" she asked. "We sit here, feeling bad about it until someone makes us feel worse?"

Steve let out a chuckle, though there was sadness in it. Wanda, managing a small but genuine smile, gave Eve a sidelong glance.

"You always have something to say, don't you?" Wanda remarked softly.

Before anyone could respond, Vision suddenly materialized through the wall, causing Wanda to jump. Eve, on the other hand, didn't flinch.

"Vis! We talked about this," Wanda exclaimed.

Eve, deadpan, added, "Yeah, 'we talked about this' usually means 'stop doing it,' not 'keep going like it's a quirky personality trait.' We also really need to work on your whole 'doors exist for a reason' concept."

Vision, looking sheepish, gestured toward the open door. "Yes, but the door was open, so I assumed that..."

Eve raised her hand dramatically, mockingly pretending to take notes. "Note to self: When door is open, still use the door. Got it."

Vision looked slightly sheepish as he gestured toward the door. "Captain Rogers wished to know when Mr. Stark was arriving."

Eve leaned in closer, her voice quiet but teasing. "Vision, buddy, we've really got to work on your entrances. You're like a ghost that doesn't understand personal space."

"But I do not haunt anyone," Vision said, genuinely puzzled.

Eve snorted and rolled her eyes, her smirk never leaving her face.

Steve chuckled softly. "Thank you, Vision. We'll be right down."

Vision nodded, stepping back toward the door. "I'll... use the door. Oh, and apparently, Mr. Stark has brought a guest."

Eve raised an eyebrow. "Ooh, a guest. Please tell me it's a therapy dog or someone with the world's most punchable face. Because I could really use that right now."

Vision tilted his head, clearly puzzled. "The Secretary of State."

"Oh, great," Eve groaned, rolling her eyes. "Because that's exactly what we need right now. Another lecture from a guy in a suit."

Vision, nodding awkwardly, exited the room through the door this time. Steve stood up, offering Wanda a hand, and Eve followed, her hands shoved deep in the pockets of her hoodie.

As they made their way toward the door, Eve muttered under her breath, "I swear, if Ross starts talking down to us, I might just set his tie on fire. Accidentally, of course."

Steve gave her a pointed look, his tone more serious now. "Play nice, Eve."

Eve grinned at him. "No promises, Dad."

And with that, they left the room together.