Chapter Text
Life has been feeling both completely mundane and unsettling surreal.
Going from island castaway to Pakhan of the Bratva to aspiring college graduate has been a whiplash Barry was not prepared for, especially because he had given up on his dream to have this kind of normalcy. Left the dream to die after he left MIT and let the boy who dreamed it to die in the North China Sea.
But here he is, spending his days cooped up in cafes, studying and stuffing his face with pastries and overpriced coffee, a kind of domesticity that almost feels absurd for him to have.
Things are starting to make sense. To settle down. To feel real and not just a temporary vacation before he returned to the life that Ollie forcibly extracted him from.
He sees a future for himself. One no longer soaked in blood.
He's locked in on his textbook readings, mid-sip, when he feels a tiny hand tug at his sleeve.
His eyes drift down and meet an almost identitcal pair of hazel eyes blinking owlishly at him. The little girl has pin straight black hair pulled out of her face with a purple clip on bow and when she smiles, he notices her dimples that tug at Barry's mind. He's never been good at eyeballing ages, but he would guess she's no older than three.
"Hey there," Barry says. "Are you lost? Where's your mommy or daddy?"
The little girl doesn't respond. Instead, she starts climbing up Barry's leg like he's a jungle gym. With concern of her falling, Barry's hands awkwardly hover over her as she makes her way to sit on his lap.
"Uhm," Barry says dumbly.
She continues to stare at him, and then pokes at his nose.
"I'm Polly," she says, matter-of-fact.
"Hi, Polly," Barry says softly. "I'm Barry."
Her eyes narrow. She shakes her head. "Uh uh."
His brows furrow with confusion. "Where's your mommy or daddy?" he asks again.
She pokes his nose again, not replying.
Barry is debating how much of a scene it would cause to yell in this small cafe to see if anyone's lost a kid when he's suddenly hit in the back of the head with a heavy purse.
"Get your hands off of her!"
Barry holds his hands up in surrender, rambled apologies falling from his lips that falter when he sees his attacker.
"Felicity?" Barry whispers.
Her eyes go wide, holding the little girl protectively against her chest. "…Var?"
His gaze darts between her and the little girl and his mind races with math that is adding up in ways that make his heart constrict with panic and disbelief.
The little girl squirms in Felicity's hold and she sets her to the ground. Polly barrels into Barry's legs, hugging them tightly, and Felicity's face flushes, unable to meet Barry's stare of shock.
"Everything alright here?" a barista asks, eyeing Barry with suspicion.
"Yes," Felicity says. "Everything's fine. Just… didn't recognize him with his new haircut."
The barista doesn't seem convinced, but something in Felicity's expression must soothe his worry.
"Var," Felicity says quietly. "I think maybe this is a conversation we shouldn't have here."
Barry nods numbly.
She leads him to the park down the block, the two of them sitting on the bench as Polly runs to swings.
"Did you know?" Barry asks. "Before I left? Did you know that you…?"
Felicity shook her head, tears pooling in her eyes. "No. It was about a month after you left when I…" She trails off. "For a moment, I was terrified that it was Coop's. Not that her being yours made it any easier. But something in me was afraid that he'd somehow find a way to get out if she was his. And then he… then he never would get out." She shakes her head. "I figured out she wasn't his pretty quickly. Timelines didn't match up. But they did…" For you.
"I saw when you came back. I mean, how could I not? You were on every news channel in Starling with Oliver freaking Queen. But I didn't… I couldn't just show up at my boss's boss's boss's house and be like "Hey! You know that guy who washed up on an island with your son? Well, he's the father of my child. Oh, she was concieved during the time that he was on the island? Well, see, he took a little detour to MIT mid-way." I'd sound nuts and they'd probably get a restraining order and then I'd never see you and you'd never meet her—"
"Felicity," Barry says. "Breathe."
She takes a moment to steady her breaths and when she's no longer on the verge of hyperventilation, she continues.
"You were so… different. And I know that those three years in… there must have changed you too."
"They did," Barry says. "A lot."
"You made it home somehow, though," she says, hope in her words.
"I wouldn't have come back if Ollie didn't get me back."
Her brows shoot up. "Oliver Queen was in—"
"No, no," Barry assures, the fib bitter on his tongue. "I made my way back to the island again."
"Why?"
Barry's lips twist sardonically. "A lot can change in three years, Felicity."
"Is…" She stops, mulling over her words. "Will she be safe?"
"If they don't know she's mine, then yes."
Her eyes search for something in his expression. "We didn't take many pictures together. I understood why. But I had a few and even though it was stupid and even though I knew it would do no good, I showed them to Polly. She must've recognized you, even without your shoulder length bottle blonde."
"Hey, look who's talking." His jest doesn't quite land.
"I wanted you to be part of her life, somehow, but I knew that it could never happen. But… now?"
"Now?" Barry parrots.
"Is that something that can happen?"
"Felicity, I… if something happened to her because of me—"
Disappointment paints over her features. "Right. Of course."
Barry can't stand to see her look this way. "But," Barry says. "Things are different. I have a lot more protections than I did before. But I have a lot more enemies too."
"What does that mean?"
"It means," he takes in a shuddering breath, "I had a bit of a promotion since we saw each other last."
"What kind of promotion?"
"Like… the boss kind of promotion."
"The boss?!" Polly pauses on her swings and Felicity chuckles nervously. "Everything's alright, baby!" Polly must believe her because she goes back to mindlessly swinging.
"The boss?" Felicity hisses. "Like… the boss?"
Barry nods.
Felicity runs her fingers through her hair. "How— how the hell—"
"It's a long story."
"Yeah, I'm sure it is," she says with a slightly hysterical huff. "But you're here, and you've… got an American accent — which by the way, is very disconcerting and weird to hear — so does that mean you're not…"
"It's—"
"Complicated," Felicity says with a nod. "I'm starting to realize a lot is."
A silence falls between them.
"Tell me about her?"
A smile grows on Felicity's lips. "She is… crazy smart. And clever in ways I can't even keep up with sometimes. She loves to read, especially about history, and knows all sorts of facts. She loves to run around and I feel like I've gotten a few grey hairs from how often she runs off. Her favorite color is purple but not dark purple, only light purple. Her name is actually Margaret, but it was my mom who started calling her Polly. Apparently it's a nickname for Mary — I still don't quite understand the history of it. But Polly liked it a lot more than Margaret, or at least had an easier time saying it instead of Maggie, and she's been Polly ever since."
Barry is quiet as he takes in all of the new information.
"My mother's name was Apollinariya," Barry says, the words barely audible. "Her brother called her Polechka but my dad knew her as Nora."
"I didn't know," Felicity says. A hell of a coincidence. Maybe fate.
"I didn't either. At least, not when I had been with you."
"I thought you said that your mom was… was killed when you were a kid."
"She was," Barry says. "My uncle just told me a lot of stories when we were together… there."
Her eyes go big. "Oh. Oh, wow. Was he…?"
"My grandfather was. Which is why I, y'know."
There's a lot that has to go unsaid, but Felicity understands enough.
"Would you like to join us for dinner? It's just going to be hot dog mac n cheese with peas but… I'm sure Polly would love to her dad there."
Barry smiles. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be."
Which is how Barry finds himself in Felicity and Polly's apartment, the place lived in and loved, drawings hung up on the walls, stuffed animal strewn onto each surface considered a chair or sitting furniture, and lavendar fluffy blankets still on the couch.
Polly had fallen asleep on the drive back and Felicity takes her to her room, shutting the door gently behind her.
"Sorry," Felicity says. "Dinner will have to wait a bit. I mean, I still have to make it anyways, but the way I said it earlier probably made it sound like we were going to have dinner right away."
"I missed you."
Felicity's ramble stops abruplty and she looks at him with wide eyes. She softens. "I missed you too." Their gazes linger for a long moment. "But Var, we can't…"
"I know," Barry says. "There's too much at stake with Polly. And with my connections I still have. And, as much as I still love you, it's… it's been three years."
She lets out a breath. "Yeah. Three years." She chuckles sadly. "What the hell are we going to do, Var? How's this going to work?"
"I don't know," Barry admits. "But… we'll figure it out. We always do. But for now… do you need a sous chef?"
She grins. "Think you can handle cutting up hot dogs?"
He grins back. "I think I can manage."