What's Latin for 'Eureka'?

The earth changed over time.  Yes, the War had changed it forever in the course of a few hours, but that wasn't a change the earth put upon itself. Man forever altered the ebb and flow of nature in a disaster so monumental it made the very foundation of humanity shudder and falter, falling from everything it had built to retreat pathetically underground.  Using that earth which they helped destroy, to protect themselves, what scant remnants of humanity breathed did so away from the sun, while above, the earth continued changing.

Despite everything, life thrived in its quiet, mysterious way.  Grass grew, rain fell.  Over centuries Nature lost none of its splendor, while everything humans had made that remained standing slowly rotted away, losing every bit of its splendor.  Animals gave birth, the sun rode the horizon as it always did, keeping a tender eye on the now-torn up blue dot that patiently, molded itself into something different than what humans had done to it, restored itself, re-aligned its rhythms, and bloomed once more.

Although not comparable on any universal scale, the same timeless nature applied to the human heart. Our pain and suffering, though felt instantaneously, can last for ages.  Though we will never be the same, we've been so altered by the wrongdoings against us--even if we are the ones that did them--we can repair and adjust, slowly.  Slowly.

The world before the Great War is an unfathomable shadow, something alien to us, that we will never be able to fully understand, something we can only look back on and wonder, dream about.  All we have left is what's in front of us.  But just like our slow-moving and patient planet, changes within one human heart very dear to me, were slowly arising.

Boone appeared and stood beside me, looking over Goodsprings.  

"About last night....."  He wasn't one for words.  I turned to him, feeling a serenity unmatched save by the underwater vision of Liam, when I thought I was dead.  
"You don't have to apologize.  And I don't think you hate me, Boone."  The stress in my voice was obvious.  "I just......" missed you more than you'll ever know.

"Well..." he continued in his never-ending loss for words.  "..Good.  I don't."

We stared at each other for some time.  Awkward silences seemed to be a recurring theme between us these days.  I didn't mind; it wasn't any worse than his scathing remarks.  

I had filled Boone in on our "vacation" quest.  To uncover my past, or anything related to it, that we could.  He was eager to help, something that warmed my heart.  Arcade had spent the morning relaying what we did know to Boone, something I thanked him for.  Under Boone's intense stare, I found myself falter whenever I mentioned my past.  I don't know why.  Either way, once the camp had been packed up, our first stop was Doc Mitchell's.  


_______________________________________________________________________


"Where the hell was that shack?" I muttered as we crossed a road in the small town. "I don't remember it being this far..."
"I believe that's it," nodded Arcade, pointing in the direction of the familiar structure.  Victor's place, as it were.  
"Right," and we crossed the road with more intensity in our step.  
"Wait."  Boone paused behind Arcade and I, and we turned.  "If you got on bad terms with House back in Vegas, don't you think there's a chance that retard machine will attack us?"
"One way to find out."  Mr. House and his cowboy didn't scare me anymore.  After the temper tantrum he pulled when I refused him the chip, his "power" was a joke.  Just what to do about it though, I wasn't sure.  Hence a mini-vacation to Goodsprings.

As though he'd heard Boone, Victor exited through the door suddenly, and gunfire rang out. Pulling my own gun even as Arcade pulled his, both of us moving in perfect synchronization, Victor fell and bounced off the hard ground, short-circuiting.   Both blond heads turned to look at the sniper.  Boone had a genuine half-smile on his face, so trigger happy he'd fired before Victor's 9mm ever had a chance to aim.  As Arcade and I stared at him incredulously, Boone shouldered the rifle.  "Well butter his butt and call him a biscuit!" he said pseudo-cheerfully (uncanny really, if you know Boone), then, still not paying any attention to mine and Arcade's looks of shock, he sidestepped us and went to the fallen robot, kicking him happily.  "So long, biscuit!"

A few minutes later, we stood inside, eyes adjusting to the dim light.  "Look for anything...."

"Victor brought you to me in just the clothes you were wearing.  I don't know if there was anything else you had on you, but he'd know.  He's still in his shack down there." the doctor had said.  

"Anything that a robot shouldn't have....."  Which was everything inside this once-occupied house.  The four of us each took a corner and began tearing the place apart.  Boone took my beret and held it to Rex, who sniffed it, barking happily.  Understanding what his friend wanted him to do, the Cyberdog began stuffing his nose in highly unlikely places; toilets, ashtrays, anywhere to find my scent.  I was tearing through the desk.  Arcade sifted through papers and magazines that lay strewn all over the floor.

"Here, this is probably invaluable evidence," he quipped, holding up a half-rotted piece of women's lingerie.  Boone's glare was lost in the darkness of the shack, and I laughed.  

"What about the woodwork?" Boone pointed out, eyes moving around the dark shack.  "It seems recently patched.  If he were going to hide anything of yours, that'd be the best place."

"Have at it," I said, emptying the desk.  "Although I don't know why he would go through such an effort."

"It really makes sense, from Mr. House's viewpoint."  Arcade spun the lingerie on his finger. It slid off and flew across the room, hitting Boone in the back just as he tore a board from the wall with his bare hands.  Looking as though he wanted to beat Arcade's head in with the board, Boone glared while the latter continued, "He had great plans for you, or so he kept telling you, correct?  By alienating you from whoever it is you were and sort of manipulating you into being his star worker, his flesh and blood highway support, there was so little chance of you running away.  Who would you run to? Where? You were no one's except his. I mean, he certainly wanted to exploit your lucky loss of memory.  I'm certain he saw it as a stroke of luck and being the opportunist he is, programmed Victor to hide or destroy anything else you would've been carrying."

I sighed.  What was I looking for, anyway?  I could run across something of mine and not even recognize it.  Boone was still furiously pulling apart boards.  

"If I didn't know better, sniper, I would assume you just have a personal hatred for the machine and want to destroy his dwelling."

Taking Arcade better than I knew Boone ever could, he replied, "Biscuit doesn't have a dwelling, biscuit is dead outside."  

My laughter was interrupted by Rex, who barked at me, wagging his tail.

"Yes, I know I have my scent boy, I'm me.  That's not what we're looking for."  

Rex barked again, and then moved to Boone.  Boone noticed this and paused in his destruction of Biscuit's home.  The dog jumped, putting his front paws on one of the walls, scratching and whimpering to Boone hopefully.  I stood, crossing the tiny floor, and Arcade turned as well.

The three of us were looking at a piece of wall that didn't match.  The boards Victor used crossed the house horizontally, but here, nailed up haphazardly, were a short series of boards nailed vertically.  They shaped a rectangle.  

"Eureka." I said triumphantly.
"That's Greek, not Latin," Arcade breathed.
Boone muttered a very non-Latin curse.

Three as one, we dove into the rectangle, pulling boards apart, Arcade smartly fishing out a crowbar to aid us in pulling the wood away.  After the flurry of annhilation, during which Rex barked excitedly, we stepped back, a man on each side of me.  There was a hole in the wall, and in the hole sat a harmless looking bag.  

My hands trembled as I reached down, taking it.  It was a large over-the-shoulder bag, a rather shabby one, simple but pretty.  The fabric fell away as I backed up, hands shaking, trying to pull its contents out.  On my left, Boone kicked open the shack door, letting the sunlight stream in.  Our heads together over my purse, I reached in and pulled out from its stuffed pockets, an old book.

"Either Biscuit sure likes book bags, or we've found ourselves something great."

"This is mine," I said, brimming with excitement.  "This is mine, I can feel it."  I clutched the bag, and the book, to my chest.  "Let's not open it here.  Let's....let's go to the saloon."

"Unveiling your past over lunch, quaint."  Arcade held onto my arm, and I turned to smile at Boone.  His face was lighted up in the shadow of sunlight, and he nodded.  "Off we go," he said, putting a hand on my back.

Nobody gives a shit about you, and no matter where you go, I'll find you.