Not even the defeat of the Legion, nor the fast advancing industry of Robert House could reach the sleepy town of Goodsprings. After her party last night, she decided that she would accompany a small group of securitrons to the southern town of Goodsprings.
House had been hesitant to let her go so soon after their victory at Hoover Dam, but without having to ask, he quickly divined in that surprisingly tactful way of his, why she decided to come here.
And Eris had to admit, it was a bit sappy for her.
When he told her that Goodsprings had accepted security in exchange for a small portion of their goods and services, she just knew she had to make one last trip down here, to where it all started. Sometimes, in the glow of Vegas' intrigue and in the ease of getting lost in the splendor of prewar knowledge, she forgot that this was the first place her memory could consciously recall.
In a manner of speaking, Goodsprings is the birthing bed she was born on, and Benny was the doctor that pulled her out of the womb.
While the town's doctor – and de facto mayor – is busy, she entertains herself by her grave, still intact and preserved like a custom museum curated just for her perusal. It was definitely an inside joke that only she and him could understand now, now that everyone else involved was dead or gone.
On her knees, she could get a better look at her birthplace. Nothing was special about the dry, loamy dirt she'd laid in, but it tickled her just the same, a nostalgia she'd been too immature to delight in for an unreasonable length of time.
A small smile, that of a child's, touched her lips and stirred something deep and primordial in her psyche. Touching the dirt that had once been her early grave was a pilgrimage she should've done a long time ago, but perhaps she'd not been ready then.
The sun that shines down on her today is a cold one, a foreboding promise of winter.
As she digs deeper with her fingers, she comes upon a few long, shiny blonde hairs. There's moisture in her eyes then, something she adamantly refuses to accept until she has to wipe her sniffling button nose on her coat's sleeve.
In the spirit of that child she can't run away from – and never wants to – she tearfully fingers the hairs and smiles, simultaneously broken and empowered by the simple treasure.
With an innocent intensity characteristic of her, she places the few strands of hair back in her grave, and covers them with the dry loam once more, using a precision rare to her graceless fingers. Once more, she stands and wiped the bittersweet tears from her eyes, and cradles her face between her hands.
"Fucking hell.." She exclaims to herself and a small audience of crows perching on a post next to a cluster of cacti.
But she's met her daily quota of heartfelt displays, she's already embarrassed on behalf of the universe who just had to watch, so she fixes one last glance at the grave – her grave – and walks back into the direction of Goodsprings, wanting to get this good deed out of the way.
Let's Ride Into the Sunset Together plays from a dinky little jukebox in a workshop down the hill from the doctor's house-and-clinic. Waves of nostalgia choke her on the walk there, disarming her of any clever remarks she might've made to the townspeople. There was a first time for everything, it seemed, something she's never once complained about in the mess of hundreds of things she has.
A townsperson walked out of the doctor's place, holding his arm in a sling as he met her eyes, tipping his hat to her, a country mannerism she'd not seen in a very, very long time.
Doc Mitchell appeared in the doorway then, his bushy gray eyebrows raising comically at the sight of her. Due to her general ingratitude, he probably never expected to see her again. If she were him, she wouldn't either. He was dressed in light flannels that contrasted with his aged, leathery skin, with a towel hanging over his shoulders.
Eris crosses her arms and tips her head in that frisky fashion she could simply never resist. It's a winning strategy with the people, a segue into exaggerated tales of exploits, and an ill omen to those who challenged her to a debate.
"Didn't never expect to see you again!" He remarks in an easy, friendly way. Truth be told, she'd forgotten the good manners and endless patience of the man who'd saved her life. "Come on in, won't ya?"
He held the door open for her, and she smiled at him upon entering, bouncing her eyebrows at him. Like any rural gentleman, he put a hand on her back and gently guided her to his painstakingly familiar living room, a place that evoked a girlish snort from her.
"Look familiar to ya? I'd hope it would, wouldn't wanna learn that you'd developed anterograde amnesia too." Eris snickered at the easy conviviality of the doctor, who she now remembered possessed a singular and warm humor.
"Mm, sometimes I convince myself I have, until I realize that it's just procrastination." He chuckled at that, and led her to the sofa where he'd asked her a hundred personal questions that would make most people uncomfortable.
The chair he took was the same one from those early days. Attentively, he scooted closer to where she sat on the weathered sofa. Eris took one good look at the dusty, stale room with peeling wallpaper and ajar, shuttered windows.
"So, what brings you here today, Eris…" He was the first person who ever called her that, he must have known, and he must have known what she'd been up to since. "I don't think you came down here to our cozy little town for a check-up, not since you got it so good up in Vegas from what I hear."
She hesitates before she speaks, something she does more now than she ever has. Now, she knows the price she'll pay for grossly misspeaking.
"Doing a little tour of the Mojave. Signing autographs, networking, schmoozing." She jokes, her smile falling somewhat as she stares into the genial, patient eyes of the town doctor. "In all actuality, I came down here, because I never thanked you for what you did."
"Oh, there's no need-" He waves a hand at her, but she continued.
"I think there is. Exactly one year and seven months ago, I left this place without even saying a 'thank you' to you. I theorize that it's for a number of reasons. As a doctor, you can probably guess – you've seen hundreds of people. I remember telling myself that this place was simply boring, too quiet for someone like me to give any drop of gratitude. But the raw truth, was that I hadn't wanted to live. I walked out of here aimless, clueless, and hopeless.
"The first two things I remember in my life are violence and confusion. And they've pretty much summed up my life ever since. But you? You're a good, virtuous person, and if anyone besides Mr. House deserves my gratitude, it's you. So, thank you.. you have to accept it, by the way."
"Mr. House, huh?" He made like he didn't know the goings-on up north. It was the telltale interjection of a town gossip's, but she didn't care, she herself had a weak spot for that. "Suppose you did make it, didn't you? Recovery like yours is a miracle, makes me proud of my work. Must be the first time one of my patients turned themselves around as a Vegas high-roller. The Vegas high-roller, from what I hear."
"Is that what you hear?" She replied with false incredulity.
"Sure is." He nodded at her, arching his bushy eyebrows with scandal. "To tell you the truth, I listened to every story Mr. New Vegas aired aboutcha. Every time he came out with a new story, I thought to myself 'well, I'll be – that's the little lady whose life I saved', and I always thought to myself after, that I wouldn'ta changed what I did for the world, kiddo." For the second time that day, tears pooled at her eyelids, threatening to spill.
Eris is of the mind that she doesn't deserve someone as charitable as him forgiving her of the crimes she'd committed. He'd even acknowledged them just then, but like a shining example of a doctor, he showed sincere compassion for the patient, not her deeds.
She bit at the corner of her cheek, willing the tears away – they listened, the foolish little things.
"I can't stay long, well, I shouldn't stay long, but my point still stands. Thank you, for saving me. I was foolish, abrasive, arrogant – but I'm happy now. There's someone I love waiting for me, and I never thought that something so simple would be the turning point. I wouldn't have had him if you'd not labored to save me as you did."
In that way sagely old men pity the despondent youth, he turned his head at her and beckoned for her to come to his arms, something she did with a fervor denied to her by herself for so long. His genial embrace reminded her of a parent she never had, and provided her another piece of the acceptance she needed to come to terms with all the events that had transpired, and the part she'd played.