The Importance of Names

A Mass Effect 2 fan fiction by xahra99

Written for the 2011 femgenficathon for the prompt: "I was learning the importance of names - having them, making them - but at the same time I sensed the dangers. Recognition was followed by oblivion, a yawning maw whose victims disappeared without a trace. "- Josephine Baker (1906-1975), African-American expatriate singer, dancer and actress.

Jack was cleaning her guns when she heard Shepard's boots marking time on the staircase. She put down the weapon she was polishing and pulled a face, poking out her studded tongue into the ship-dry air.

Jack was not racist. She hated everybody, regardless of species, creed or sex. Shepard was one of the rare exceptions. So she kicked her gun out of the way as Shepard's boots clanged on the metal walkway towards Engineering and tried to pretend that she wasn't looking forwards to some company even just a little bit.

The Commander made a habit of passing time with all of the Normandy's crew, socialising so meticulously that Jack sometimes wondered if Shepard had a chart pinned on a corkboard somewhere in the upstairs cabin. She had seen the Commander working out with Jacob, swapping war stories with the turian, discussing tactics with Miranda (that bitch) or flirting with Kelly Chambers. Jack didn't blame Shepard for that last-really, it was impossible for anyone to have a conversation with Kelly without feeling like the officer was coming on to them-but she resented being just another one of the Commander's little projects.

The Commander greeted Jack with a nod and put down a long, narrow box on the seat next to her. Jack indicated the container with a quick jab of her chin. "What's that?"

"Reversi," Shepard said, as if that meant something. When Jack said nothing the commander continued. "It's a game. From Old Earth."

Jack rolled her eyes. She doubted that either of them –and half of humanity, for that matter-had ever visited Old Earth. She knew from Shepard's files that the commander was a spacer born and bred. Jack had been brought up off world herself. Corridors and neon strip lighting were far more familiar to both of them than grass or clouds ever would be.

The Commander waited patiently to the faint but insistent soundtrack of the Normandy's engines. When Jack failed to respond Shepard merely shrugged and flipped the box over. It folded out neatly to reveal a chequered board and a set of black and white counters. Jack played with the three gold studs embedded in her right ear as she studied the game. Finally she looked up at Shepard. She had to look up at most people. It was just another of the many things that pissed her off.

"How'd you play?"

The Commander demonstrated. It didn't take long. Jack was smart, among her many other talents, and she learned quickly. Finally Shepard set the board up and said "Let's play."

Jack shrugged and ran a hand over her bald head. "Then what the fuck were we just doing?" she demanded, scratching at her scalp. The hair was growing back and it itched. Maybe she'd have gene surgery; get it removed permanently. Maybe not.

Shepard mimicked her shrug. "You were learning."

Jack smiled. She held her hand out and made the counters dance over her palm, black to white and back again as they flicked across her knuckles. She liked the ambiguity of the pieces. "Wanna bet?" she invited.

Shepard's head tilted back in thought, bioengineered scars glowing faintly in the dark. Body art, Jack thought as she noticed a set of concentric scars layered dartboard-like on the Commander's left cheek. She couldn't help but approve. Her own scars were mostly invisible, the tattoos an attempt at permanency."That's not such a bad idea."

"Unlike most of them?" Jack said. When the Commander failed to rise to her bait she thumped her combat boots up on the crate they were using as a table and said "What d'you wanna bet?"

"Information."

Jack's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I'd rather play strip poker."

"This isn't poker," Shepard said. "And you're not stripping."

"Try and stop me," Jack invited. It wouldn't take much effort-her tattoos covered her skin more completely than her clothes.

"Wouldn't dare," Shepard joked. It was a lame attempt, all things considered. Jack did not laugh. She crouched on her crate with her knees ticked up against her chest and studied the board. "What sort of information?"

"You get a question for each piece you take. I get a question for each one I win. Sounds fair?"

Jack considered complaining but decided against it. One of the many things she had learned in her short life was that life was nearly never fair. "I don't get it. Why'd you ask all these bullshit questions all the time? What's in it for you?"

Shepard slouched back into the deep blue shadows of the hold. "I like to know my crew."

"Maybe you won't like what you find."

"That's okay." Shepard said. "Maybe you won't, either."

That sort of comment from anybody else would have made Jack instantly suspicious, but she had known the Commander long enough to know that Shepard had no interest in her sexually and, moreover, always told the truth. Jack narrowed her eyes. Her hand snaked up again to twist the beads in her ear.

"Okay," she said at last. "Let's play."

"White or dark?" Shepard held out a pair of counters.

"What do you think?" Jack took the counter with its black side uppermost. It gleamed darkly against her ship-pale skin. She arranged her pieces and made the first move. Shepard countered, and they settled down to a nearly-silent game punctuated only by the thrum of the Normandy engines, the creak of bulkheads and the hiss of piped air.

Jack used the time to consider what question she was going to ask Shepard if she won. The Commander volunteered information readily enough, but nobody had Shepard's history without keeping a few secrets. She could always ask something short and obscene about Shepard's sexual preferences; but she had tried that before and Shepard always slid away.

They were about half way through the game when Jack realised that Shepard was going to win. She gritted her teeth and tried to concentrate on the board. The black and white counters danced across her vision. She tried different strategies, but they all failed. More of Jack's counters turned white with each turn until the board was a near-unbroken ivory. She considered giving up but played to the bitter end before she turned to Shepard and complained. "This game is stupid."

"Again?" Shepard asked.

Jack realised that Shepard knew her far too well. Jack never gave up. She concentrated, reaching out with her mind and as much control as she could muster-Jack had never been good at control-to flip counter after counter until the board was a sea of inky black. "I guess so."

Shepard set the board up for another game. Jack gnawed her nails down to the quick. She thought she had nearly gotten away with it, too, until Shepard looked at her with the last counter held in mid-air and said "How'd you get your name?"

Jack growled. She had no problem with breaking promises but she knew Shepard always kept them. Nobody else aboard the Normandy expected Jack to behave, and she took pleasure in fulfilling their low expectations. Shepard was different. The Commander's attitude and cool professionalism made Jack feel childish and defiant. She would have used this as an excuse to hate Shepard, had the Commander not been so obviously willing to bend-or break-the rules whenever it suited. In addition, Shepard had a talent for convincing others to do things the Normandy way, whether that involved high explosives, donating presents to orphans, or the entire moral spectrum in between. There was something about Shepard; an invisible charisma that settled on everybody like space dust. Certainly, Jack thought; that would explain the Commander's impeccable success rate. There was very little that Shepard could not cajole, charm, bribe or bully from anyone.

Maybe that explained why Jack was playing this stupid game in the first place. She snorted. "How'd I get my name? That's easy. Although Subject Zero was their name. Not mine."

"I didn't mean Subject Zero," Shepard said. "I meant your name. I meant Jack."

Jack considered the options. She no longer recalled what her original, childish name had been, although she had every intention of finding the Cerberus bastards that had stolen it from her one day and choking the information out of them. It was a pity, she thought, that they weren't on the ship with her. It would have saved a lot of time.

Jack had tried a few names on for size once she'd escaped the Cerberus facility, but they'd all felt like badly fitting clothes. She found the right one when she had joined the pirate ship Lavinia Whately out in the Terminus systems. The Lavinia's Captain Song took one look at Jack and said "You look like trouble. What's your name, cherie?"

Jack shrugged. "Whatever I want it to be. What's your problem?"

Captain Song studied her with dark eyes and Jack stared right back. "Then what's with the tattoos?" the pirate captain asked after a while. "You'll look like shit in twenty years, my girl."

The question annoyed Jack even more. "You think I'll be alive in twenty years?" she snapped, feeling the rising tingle of biotics in her fingertips and veins. "Besides, you look like shit right now. Go figure."

Captain Song smiled, displaying square white teeth and pointed, almost feline canines. It was an unexpectedly beautiful smile. "Why don't you tell me what you do, cherie?"

"Why do you ask so many damn questions?" Jack demanded. She took a step forwards, towards the captain.

Every pirate in the room raised their weapons except Captain Song, who merely raised an eyebrow. "Why don't you answer one?"

Jack glanced around at the multitudes of weapons and judged that she'd do well to answer. She fought down the rising biotic tide and replied. "I'm a jack of all trades, but mostly I do biotics. I could boil your brains inside your head. I could crush your throat in my hand." She flicked her finger. Several pirates jumped, and then tried to look as if they hadn't. "Bam."

"I could space you in a second if you tried," the captain said, and for once Jack had no trouble believing her. She would have liked the captain if her goons hadn't been holding her at gunpoint."You said yourself you're a jack of all trades." Song's smile widened, displaying a single golden tooth. "What about Jack?"

Jack nearly refused out of reflex, but she took a second to consider. She liked the ambiguity of the name. Neither masculine nor feminine, she felt it suited her. Black jack, jackpot, jack frost-though she'd never seen frost- jackfruit-though she'd never tasted it- jack tar, jackhammer, jack o'lantern, jack cable, jack in, jack off...jack of all trades.

One trade, at least.

Jack.

It was a name that was easy to scream and it could be dressed up for occasions. She liked it.

"It'll do," she said. "For now."

The captain nodded. She did not seem surprised. "Are you with us, then, Jack?"

Jack paused. She had wanted to join a pirate ship ever since she'd reached the Terminus, and the Lavinia Whately looked like a good ship to join. The pirates were sleek and well-fed, wealthy and well armed. "Yes. For now."

The captain nodded. "Then welcome, cherie, to a life of crime."

"It's not a welcome," Jack had replied. "I started that a long time ago."

Captain Song's smile was blinding. "Then all the better."

Joining Captain Song had been a mistake in more ways that just one. Jack had soon left the Lavinia Whately-intact, which was a record for her in those days, but she'd kept the name.

She woke from her reverie to find Shepard staring at her. "That must be some story. You've been quiet for a long time."

Jack thought that Shepard would have made a good pirate. "It's just a name," she said.

"From your look, there's more to it than that."

"Maybe I don't feel like telling you."

"Then that's your decision," Shepard said. "Another game?"

Jack shook her head. "I don't need to play another stupid game."

"I thought you didn't like losing."

"You have no idea what I like." She reached out with her biotics and a little less control. The shockwave toppled the board to the floor with a crash that echoed around the cargo hold."This game-your game-it's over. If you need to know anything else, just goddamn ask."

Shepard leaned down and picked up the board, collecting each splintered counter. "Some other time, then. Keep the board." The Commander got up. "I should go."

"Don't let the door hit you in the ass," Jack said, and smiled.

Author's Note: I had real problems with Jack's design but liked her a lot more as the game progressed-her character arc was both interesting and realistic. Captain Song and the Lavinia Whately are borrowed in true space pirate fashion from Elizabeth Bear and Sarah Monette's awesome short story Boojum, available for free at the .