-June, 2284-

Otho was sprawled out on the floor beside his bed. His back ached from sleeping on the floor night after night. He sighed and kicked the threadbare blanket off of his body. The summer was too hot for blankets anyway. The faint light of dying neon crept in through the window. The stars were still invisible. Otho stared out of the window from his spot on the floor, waiting for sunrise. The days would be brutal, but it was easier to stay awake than to close his eyes.

But he would need sleep eventually. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second. The second he did, he saw them. The soldiers, the ropes around his wrists, his mother kneeling over him as he struggled to breathe. A pit built in his stomach and he felt his heart begin to race. He sat straight up and reached out for the blanket. It took a while for him to come back to reality. Sleep was not in the realm of possibility for him. So he lay back down and looked back at out the window, waiting for sunrise.

The door burst open and a flashlight was pointed directly at his face. Otho moved the blanket to cover his eyes. The nightly visits certainly didn't help him get any sleep. Even after two months he wasn't used to them.

"You're awake." The NCR soldier moved the flashlight around the room. "And on the floor."

"How observant." Otho rolled over onto his side. "Goodnight."

"Yeah." He backed out of the room. "Goodnight."

…

"Insomnia, huh?" Dr. Patrick flipped through his files.

"That's what the doctor said I had." Otho sighed and stared back up at the ceiling.

The doctor mused over his documents. "I also heard that you've been sleeping on the floor."

Otho shrugged, looking away from him. "The bed is gross."

He sighed. "Well maybe you would get a better night's sleep if you used a bed."

Otho felt his body grow cold. "I don't need a bed. The blanket is just fine."

Dr. Patrick continued to stare at him. "When did your insomnia begin? Do you remember?"

"I didn't have insomnia until the NCR said I had it."

"But have you always had trouble sleeping?"

Otho thought for a moment then closed his eyes. He was too exhausted to be having this conversation.

"Mr. Hicks, if you give this a chance we can help fix your problem."

"I don't have a problem!" Otho snapped and rubbed his forehead. "I don't have a problem."

"But are you happy?"

Otho slumped down further in his chair. "I don't have to be happy to work. I just have to work."

"Mr. Hicks…"

"Look, I appreciate what you're doing, but you're wasting your time." He got up from his chair and proceeded to leave, but Dr. Patrick stopped him.

"Sit back down. We have another hour."

Otho locked eyes with him, then sighed in defeat and sat back down. He made sure to angle the chair just right so he could watch the clock.

…

Work was a sleepless blur. Even after the shop closed, Otho remained behind. He found it easier to continue working than to go home and fail to sleep. Otho stood on the corner of the shop, sweeping the same area of floor over and over. He wasn't making much progress, but he didn't need to. He would do the same thing back in the Legion. Just look busy in front of the arena instead of going to bed. Usually it worked and the repeating motions of the sweeping helped put his mind at ease.

The door opened and Otho looked up from his sweeping. He was expecting an NCR soldier to be checking on him, but instead a man with messy blond hair stepped into the shop. His form was covered with a long brown coat and his right arm seemed to be made completely out of metal. He didn't seem to be interested in any of the merchandise. Otho sighed and continued sweeping.

"We're closed. Come back tomorrow."

The man got closer and Otho could see the scars etched out over his stern face. A squeak nearly escaped him when that metal hand reached out and clutched his shoulder.

"It's been some time, Otho."

Otho felt like he was thrown into a vat of ice water. Dead Sea. No, he couldn't act like he recognized him. He was a man of the NCR, not the Legion. He shook the metal hand off and went back to his sweeping.

"I'm afraid you're mistaken. We won't be open again until morning."

Dead Sea grabbed the end of the broom with his steel hand and pulled it away.

"Drop the charade, Otho. You can't hide from the Legion forever." He began to close in on Otho's personal space. "We don't have much time. I'm tracking down as many surviving soldiers as I can. We'll have our Legion back. It won't be easy, it may be near impossible, but it's Caesar's will."

Otho backed away. The broom trembled in his hand.

"The Republic watches everything I do. They will have me thrown in a cell or standing in front of a firing range if I consider joining you." He turned away and went back to his sweeping. "You're wasting your time. As the former arena master, I know when a fight has been lost. Dead Sea, we lost. Get over it."

The tension in the air thickened. Otho heard the clenching of Dead Sea's steel fist.

"Get over it?" His voice deepened to a low rumble and his hand slammed against the wall, locking Otho in and blocking him from going anywhere. "You should be ashamed! You turned your back on your brothers, your army, on Lord Caesar himself! And for what? A job sweeping floors every night? A chance to suck the Republic's dick like everyone else?!"

Otho felt his face grow hot. He stared down at the spot on the floor he missed when sweeping.

"I didn't go through three years of NCR reeducation to have it all thrown away on an empty promise." He closed his eyes and sighed. "The Legion has been destroyed, but I haven't. I can start my own life, my own future."

Dead Sea laughed which sounded like a rusted vault door being opened.

"You? You think you're going to have a normal life in the Republic? When they constantly monitor you? When they keep track of everything you do?" He sneered. "Ironic, isn't it? They persecute you for being a mindless soldier, but what are they doing to you now? They have you brainwashed! Wake up and smell the coffee, unless your precious Republic banned you from that as well."

Otho felt like he swallowed a cup of hot broken glass. He grit his teeth and thrust the end of the broom out towards Dead Sea's chest.

"Get out of my store."

Dead Sea stared hard at the broom, before swiping it from his hands and snapping it in two. The pieces fell to the ground.

"Next time you threaten me, it will be your spine." He dusted his hands off and turned to leave. "Only seek me out when you decide to come back to reality."

The door slammed behind him. Otho sank down to his knees and began sweeping up the fragments of wood with the broken end of the broom. He rubbed his eyes from behind his glasses.

…

Otho walked home the same way he did each night, but it felt different. Dead Sea was right, he was being watched. He dug his hands into his pockets and continued walking. In front of one of the shops, he saw something that caught his eye. A stand was set up and a crowd was slowly forming around it. Otho took a closer look and nearly gasped.

Legion armor. Not only armor, but weapons, flags, memorabilia. All being sold on the side of the road in some profligate town.

He felt his mouth go dry, but out of morbid curiosity he stepped forward.

"What is this?" Otho's fingers traced over the Mark of Caesar, carelessly placed on a table beside a pile of bottlecaps.

"All the stuff left over from the Legion Fort." A man next to him explained. "No one knew what to do with it, so hey, why not sell it?"

Otho was already starting to feel sick, but then he saw a necklace displayed on the table It was definitely not of the Legion. The beads were carved out of shiny dark wood and decorated with faded red paint. When he saw it, Otho felt his face grow pale. His shaking hand reached out to touch it, but the man snatched it up before he could.

"Give me that."

The man glanced at him. "What? I got to it first."

"It's mine, give it to me."

"It's for sale, maybe I want to buy it."

His entire body began to tremble. His mind went blank as he reached out and tried to snatch the necklace from his hands.

"What the hell are you doing?" The man tried to shove Otho away.

"You don't understand, it's mine!"

The struggle stopped when Otho's fist collided with the side of his face. The man let go of the necklace and backed away. Otho leveled his breathing and tried to ignore the looks of the terrified onlookers around him. He held the necklace close to his chest and dropped a handful of bottlecaps on the table.

…

"You punched a man in the face," Dr. Patrick leaned forward on his elbows, furiously rubbing his temples. "For a necklace?"

"It was important." Otho kept his eyes down to avoid his judgmental glare.

"You need to get some sleep, Mr. Hicks."

Otho glanced up at him. "You think that would help?"

"You're getting irritable and hard to predict. I think a night of sleep would help you greatly."

There was that tiny part of Otho's brain that wanted to tell him he was being brainwashed. That encounter with Dead Sea was making his life that much more difficult.

"I can't just go to sleep."

Dr. Patrick smiled. "I want you to at least try. Do you know what's keeping you up?"

The necklace felt heavy in his pocket. "I got a lot on my mind."

"That's not what you're telling me."

Otho rubbed his eyes. "Because I'm not ready to tell you."

…

Otho's fingers tightened around the comic book as he paced back and forth outside of the bakery. She had to be there, she had to. Although part of him hoped that she wouldn't be.

Eventually, Stella did turn the corner. She looked surprised when she saw him, but he didn't know if that was a good or a bad thing.

"You want me to beat you up again?" She said with a slight smirk.

Otho's face began to heat up and he held the comic book out to her.

"You like these, right? They don't sell as well, so I thought I'd give it to you."

"¡La Fantoma!" Stella mused over the cover.

"Yeah." Otho rubbed the back of his neck. "I thought you'd like it. You know, since it's about a woman and you're a woman and all."

She smiled and flipped through the pages. "Thank you."

Otho nodded. "Stella?"

"Yes?"

She was staring at him so intensely. It still felt so strange having a normal conversation with her. He shook his head and waved his hand.

"It's nothing. Have a nice day."

"Okay." Stella spoke hesitantly. "You too, I guess."

When he was out of her range of vision, he bolted back to his apartment, slammed the door behind him, and fell to the ground.

"I'm so stupid."

Apparently the NCR checked on him again that night. He didn't remember. He was dead asleep when it happened.