"So you haven't just asked?"

"I have, she won't tell me."

Natasha's eyebrows shot up as she sipped at her water bottle, "If she won't tell you we won't either."

"That hardly seems fair." Steve fought the strong urge to pout. One dance class and three dates later, Chelsea "Crusade" Commons still refused to reveal the story behind her codename here at S.H.I.E.L.D. Or much else about her for that matter.

Barton chuckled, "I can say that she shot up fast, not quite the best..."

Natasha shrugged, "But she's up there."

Steve nodded, "How many people here have code-names?"

The two agents looked at each other, maybe a bit unsure about the number they were going to give. "Five, maybe?"

"Yeah, that sounds like a good number." the archer agreed with his friend.

"Five!"

"You sound surprised." Chelsea placed her tray on the table and sat across from Steve. She smirked knowingly, it seemed like trying to figure her out was his new game to pass the time between missions.

"I was expecting more."

The redhead at the table chuckled and smirked to herself, "We're a pretty big deal."

Barton shoved the other woman on the shoulder playfully, "Just tell him."

She recovered her dropped fry from her lap and ate it, "Nope. It's not that interesting of a story anyway."

"Then it won't take much effort to tell."

She narrowed her hazel gaze on him. The other male at the table bit into his apple, "Alright, how about this, we all tell how we got our names."

"Yours isn't exactly hard to guess at." Natasha interrupted.

Barton took a minute to turn to her theatrically and hold a finger in the air, "Shut up." they took a minute to chuckle, "I got my name because of my sight. I see better from far away." Chelsea was still giggling as literally everyone already knew that. He continued, "Natasha got hers because of her killing skills."

"Silent and deadly." Chelsea added.

"I'm actually not sure about the other two…"

Natasha turned to Chelsea, "And our Great Crusade here got her name…"

She sighed, "Because I'm a favorite of the government."

"How do you mean?" Steve asked.

"How familiar are you with The Crusades?"

"Been a long time since I took a history class."

"Well, the crusades were holy missions enacted by the catholic church in the pursuit of recovering the holy land. Crusaders were people who later moved on crusades of their own, or on behalf of the church, taking back their villages, their towns…"

"So you are a crusader?"

"For the government, yes. I get sent in to recover and reclaim…things."

"Things?" Steve was still confused.

Natasha smacked her leg impatiently with the now empty water-bottle, "People, places, things."

"Usually on a large scale."

"And without any rules. I'm given clearance to take whatever action is necessary with no consequences upon my return."

To Steve, that sounded like a viscous dog let loose on the world only to be rewarded with treats and a pat on the head when it finally returned home. But all in all, for this woman, one who on the surface seemed so normal and honestly not all that powerful, "That's actually pretty impressive."

She smiled, "Thanks."

"I don't really approve, but still impressive."

"Not everyone can be Mr. Perfect, grandpa."

Natasha put her chin in her hand, "We don't name ourselves. Stories stir up from lower level agents, interns, and the like."

"They're got wild imaginations."

"But the missions have to be pretty amazing for nicknames to come from them."

The three remaining agents looked at each other. A mix of anxiety and regret on their faces. Chelsea said something first, "You're right about that."

Phones started ringing and all four answered. "Hello? Be right there." with all the same conversation.

"To work?" Natasha asked.

"To work."

Steve stopped Chelsea when the other two were out of earshot, "So you've done things in the name of the United States that were…" he trailed off.

"Not exactly conducive to a good nights sleep?" she finished, "Yeah." She looked after the other two as they left the cafeteria, "Nothing like them. They got their names by doing what they do best. They used to be what I wanted to be."

"And now?"

"Now that i'm one of them?" she shrugged, "I'm still not on their level. But coming home to a nickname floating about the halls. It's empowering and dangerous at the same time."

"How?"

She took a few steps backwards, "Well, what happens when I don't live up to it?"

He was left to think about that. His own name, his persona, was just that. It was a name for whom he personified and what he represented. For them, it was a matter of who they really were and what kind of things they did.

There is a lot of burden in something as small as a name.