Author's Note: This is currently posted through chapter eight on AO3. I will be updating once a week until I've caught up to that, at which point I will be updating them at the same time. This fic has songs associated with each chapter, and will be noted at the end. Happy reading!
February 29th, 1972
/ But I guess that's just the way the story goes
You always smile but in your eyes your sorrow shows /
It's dark when he wakes up, his head throbbing. His mouth is dry, and tastes like blood.
He doesn't know where he is, and there's a heaviness in his chest that he doesn't like.
He struggles to stand, pressing himself against the solid weight of brick in the wall in alley beside him. He stumbles quite a bit as he makes his way towards the street light at the opening of the alley, his feet aching with every move.
He doesn't know where he is, and he has no idea how he's gotten there.
Everything hurts.
-x-
He doesn't remember passing out, but one minute he's almost out of the mouth of the alley and the next he's flat on his back.
There's a woman's face a few inches above him, her dark hair haloed by the overhead street light. Her mouth is turned down in a worried frown.
She looks a lot like Iris, almost uncannily so. There are differences, but they're subtle.
Barry knows she's not Iris. He knows Iris, and even if he couldn't see the little differences, she's wearing a little metal name tag that reads "Felicia".
He doesn't know what's going on.
Felicia moves out of his way as he sits up, wipes a splash of mud off his cheek.
Her checkered uniform tightens as she stands up, and Barry can see the swell of her stomach. Felicia, whoever she is, is pregnant.
"Are you okay?" She doesn't sound like Iris, which only solidifies the idea in Barry's mind that she's not.
"-'m fine," Barry manages to slur, and he doesn't know why his voice sounds like that.
Felicia looks around a bit before turning back to him, "Look, I got a place up the block. You wanna rest, I'll help you down there. I don't got money for the pay phone to call you help, and I don't... know if they'd come down 'ere anyway."
"Yeah," Barry says as evenly as he can manage, "thank you."
-x-
Felicia's place is a dingy little studio apartment, no door to the bathroom and a hot plate in place of a stove. He doesn't even see a refrigerator, just a handful of canned goods and a couple apples.
It's definitely not a place for a pregnant woman on her own.
"Know it ain't much. Ma kicked me out when I got pregnant, but I'm tryin'. Baby's dad lets me stay with him sometimes, usually when 'e wants sex," Felicia says as Barry settles himself onto her ratty mattress.
Barry wants to tell her that's not fair to her, but he can't manage to spit the words out.
"Here," Felicia says to him then, pressing a tin can filled with water into his hand. She doesn't even have cups.
He sips at the water gratefully though, staying still when she wipes at his face with a slightly dirty washrag.
"You ain't from around here, are you?" she says softly as he sets the can down.
"'m not sure," Barry manages with a little less difficulty than before, "-where are we?"
Felicia's eyebrows raise in a way that reminds Barry of Iris something strongly enough that it borders on painful.
"Central City."
Barry nods, because even with the unfamiliar landscape, he had a feeling.
The nod makes him dizzy, and he's laying down before he's really aware of it, and then he's asleep.
-x-
It's light out when he wakes again. He doesn't see Felicia at first, curled up around herself in the corner by her hot plate.
He doesn't feel rested but he does feel better.
His clothes must have been changed while he was asleep, because he's wearing black slacks and a plain white t-shirt. The shirt is stained on the bottom, something vaguely rust colored. He notices the ragged edges of an old towel wrapped around his torso when he checks for damage.
It's seeped a little red, but it's dried blood at least.
He still doesn't know how he got here, doesn't know what happened.
Felicia looks tiny in the corner, and far younger than Barry initially thought. Somehow he doubts she's even old enough to vote.
He forces himself up, nearly knocking the tin can of water over in his haste. He's more and more hungry the longer he's awake, but he absolutely refuses to take this girl's food.
Barry places a hand on her shoulder, gently shaking her awake. She blinks several times before smiling at him.
"You look better," she admits.
"Thank you, for last night. Not many people would've-"
"Don't worry 'bout it. I'd... like ta think someone woulda done it for me if I was beat like you."
Barry smiles at her, offers her a hand up, "I'm Barry, by the way."
"Felicia," she replies as she takes his hand. Her fingers are calloused and worn, but she's got a surprisingly tight grip.
"Do you... know the date?" he asks after a minute, because the longer he's here the more he's sure it's not his Central City.
"February 29th. Tuesday."
Definitely not January.
"The year?" he asks, and she looks at him strangely.
"1972, just like it's been all year?" She phrases it as a question somehow.
"1972?" Barry blurts, and then shakes his head trying to think up an excuse, "I think I lost some time."
Felicia nods, though Barry doubts she believes him.
There's a hard knock on the door then, startling both of them. Barry jumps away from her, looks toward the door.
"I'm sorry," she starts, and she looks incredibly sad as she speaks, "but you hafta leave. Lewis won't be happy if he sees you in here."
Barry's the confused one now, but he nods anyway.
He's halfway out her back window when he pauses, looks down at his watch.
It's analog, an antique he'd gotten from Joe last Christmas.
"Here, sell this," he says, sliding it off and placing it on her window sill, "buy some food for you and the baby."
She nods, and as soon as he's free, he hears her open the door.
"What took you so long, girl?" he hears Lewis Snart ask and then he knows.
He doesn't stay.
-x-
He spends his day subtly checking in on the people he cares about that he can locate. His dad is seventeen, and his grandparents are still alive. His mother is eleven, living with her grandmother, a woman who would die in six years. Joe is three.
He ends up finding his way back to Felicia's apartment by early evening, but she's not home. He wedges an old twenty dollar bill from his wallet underneath her door and leaves.
He doesn't see her again.
-x-
He runs as fast as he can, but his energy wanes quickly. He passes out in the middle of a park, the whole world going dark.
Author's Note:
February 29th, 1972: Without You - Harry Nilsson