Dejected didn't even come close to describing how I felt all the way back to Vegas. I don't know what I was expecting from Boone, but now I could expect nothing at all. The Mojave seemed just as lonely as it did when I had bravely stepped foot out of Goodsprings, even when Boone busied himself with making a fire or cooking a meal for both of us. He never failed in his job as a spotter, and seemed keen on getting back to Vegas.

Then, "I don't get it. Why did he shoot you?"

We were less than a mile away from the Vegas entrance, and I paused to look at Boone as though he were an extraterrestrial. "What?"

"You must have been..." Boone shrugged, not understanding what he wanted to say. "Before your memory loss, I mean..."

While still staring like a baffoon, it occurred to me how little Boone had known about the situation. Through my own tight-lipped nature, I had neglected to tell him anything other than the fact Mr. House wanted the Platinum Chip. With me journeying to the Fort, with me saving Benny, it must have looked like far, far more than what it was.

I was still staring at Boone as this realization hit me, and now he looked oddly back, probably wondering if my zone-out was due to his comment, or the fact that my head was barely held together. Finally, I gathered myself, "We weren't anything. I never even knew Benny." I felt like a fucking idiot for not bothering to confide the full story of the Platinum chip with the sniper, but it was too late to really worry about that now. "He just wanted to take over Vegas with Yes Man."

Boone looked skeptical. "You two weren't..."

"No."

The resolute negative seemed to brighten him, though he only responded with "Huh." However, for the rest of the walk, his steps were easier, and he didn't lag ten feet behind me, walking closer than he had for the entire Boomer journey.

"We still have tons of decoding to do. I think the terminal where you actually wrote the information had a special encrypted system so you could pop a disc in, download or upload data, save and..." Arcade snapped his fingers. "Unfortunately, it would take as long for us to re-program a drive in that manner, as it would for us to unload all this whatever it is you have. But let me show you what we've got."

Boone, Arcade, Emily and I were sitting at one of the large, empty dining tables in the dimly lit Lucky 38. Though the place was spooky in ways that I can't really describe, it was also secluded, cool, and clean. Maybe it was the cleanliness that scared me. Arcade solved that by spilling the contents of his folder across the red tablecloth.

"Firstly, the concrete information. Your picture with Liam. We've located several "Anna and Ronalds" but only one with the surname starting with a K. Kenworthy."

"That's Liam's last name, I know it," I said brightly.

"Perfect. They live in a little settlement called Harris Springs." Arcade had salvaged a map from who knew where, and dusted it off, pointing to a circle he'd drawn. "It's actually not too far away, about a week if you make good time. I don't know much about them, other than they have an address with the Mojave Express. Which, by the way."

Arcade nodded at Emily, who picked up, "I was able to get in contact with one of the managers of the Mojave Express, who, believe it or not, actually hired you. I made up what I had to in order to get information concerning you." she flipped open a small, worn notebook. "You were hired about three months before the Goodsprings incident. According to him, you applied for the job but seemed extremely over-qualified. When he asked for references, you said you had none. No family, no friends. He said that although he could tell you were one of the most intelligent people he'd met in the Wasteland, something seemed 'not quite right' as though you were fleeing from something." She was reading the notes she no doubt jotted down while interviewing this man. I was hanging on her every word.

"He said you could deliver more efficiently than anyone else on the entire team, said you were more than proficient, but over the time period made no friends, rarely spoke to anyone. He thought you were hooked on some kind of chems because you were so jittery, on edge. But he didn't worry about it too much, since you did your job and did it well. He also said you were horrible with the guns that all couriers are required to carry. Said you didn't want anything to do with it."

I didn't really know what to think about all this. Arcade must have sensed my crestfallen feeling, because he squeezed my shoulder. Emily put down the notepad.

"I can see that," Boone piped up suddenly, startling us all. "You can't shoot worth a damn."

"Hey. Who saved your ass by sniping Legionnaires?"

"Barely." Boone's tone was lighthearted, and I mimiced his glare of doom before we continued.

"Although it seems unlikely you would've had an education if you didn't have a family, since schools are hard to come by, we did make the connection here," Arcade picked back up, patting my stack of books. "Oliver Twist. Orphan. A Little Princess, story of an orphan. Great Expectations, Pip, orphan. Heidi, orphan. It would seem you were without some semblance of a family at some point, because these books obviously meant a lot to you. So we know for sure that you lived in the mountains, and...we've pinpointed where."

He paused dramatically and Emily jumped back in, "The manager I spoke with still had some of your information on file. You did come from the mountains, according to him. Said you were not really familiar with the desert, had a hard time dealing with the heat and lack of elevation. You were definitely in the mountains most of your life if that's the case. And here's the one you cited as 'home' when talking to the Mojave Express." She pointed to another circled spot on the map.

My eyes lit up, happy to remember it. "Griffith Peak."

"It's a huge mountain," Arcade said, geographical genius to be expected. "Over 9000 feet. Even this time of year I bet it's loaded with snow. And the Kensingtons are located on the way."

"So," Boone said again, his low voice so different than Arcade's, "An orphaned teacher with a great education suddenly emerges from snowy mountains to do lowly courier work...why?"

"Don't ask me," I said sadly. "I have no idea."

Arcade tilted his head. "I think we all know something terrible happened on that peak. You have nightmares, you came into the Mojave scared and jittery. These files of yours are so well-protected, a near-paranoia case is evident. It's like you never wanted anyone to read them."

"Have you recovered any of the data on them?" Actually, I didn't think I wanted to know, at this point.

"Only a bit," Emily responded. "You seem to have a large written document, perhaps a journal or datebook, but we did decrypt a complete address book, which is where we found the Kensington address that matched the one in the NCR directory. None of the others seem to be of real relevance, except one which has the title 'home.' You gave the latitude and longitude, which we were able to map out...here." Pointing at another circle on Griffith Peak.

"You guys are amazing," I said with a sigh. "I don't know how to repay you." Though I couldn't say as much with Emily here, I knew where the thousands of caps from the Families' rent was going to go. I would hand it over to the Followers first thing in the morning.