AUTHORS NOTE: Hi there everyone! I'm 3-left-turns and this is the first book in my new Watchtower series. First off, I don't own anything... Like at all... Ever...Like it's really depressing and I really wish I did own any my favorite shows/fandoms... Like anything Joss Whedon does... Or Arrow... Or anything Joss Whedon does... Point is I disclaim everything and this will be only time I put that disclaimer up in this story... So in future chapters just naturally assume that I own nothing you recognize.
Quick Announcements:
I'm calling out for a beta now. Cause I know I'm gonna need help with this. So if you are interested PM me or if you know someone who would be good have them PM. But know that if you do PM I'm gonna want two to three stories that you have worked on as a reference.
The next chapter, while planned out, is not finished and it will take time for me to put it up. Let's say 2 weeks to a month. however, the more GOOD, HELPFUL , POLITE, ( and etc )reviews I get might make write a little faster.
So here it goes and I hope you enjoy!
WATCHTOWER
THE BECOMING
Prologue
It was the easiest lie she ever told.
No one had asked about anything really, so she kept the truth of what happened to herself.
The only the other person who knew anything, everything. Who could destroy her friend, Oliver Queen, with an unfortunate truth, had said nothing. Almost as if he had forgotten the incident had ever occurred. That he hadn't done the things he had done, that he hadn't finally found a true and proper way for Oliver to experience the pain and despair of not being able to truly save the one he loved most. He had forgotten one of the most horrifying and defining moments of her life, that he had created to destroy a man she not only saw as a friend or hero, but as someone she could resolutely love for a lifetime. Essentially Slade Wilson had forgotten what he had done to her innocent soul, let alone her battered body. She had been forgotten. She was forgettable.
Personally, she thought the truth was blatantly obvious. While her clothes had not been torn or shredded, they were by no means tidy or untouched. Her hair had been mussed and unkempt, her eyes red with dried tear tracks falling down her cheeks. There was dried blood beneath her fingernails, and her hands trembled with both fear and pain, as her insides bled and burned from abuse. How could they have not known? Let alone, how could they have not seen that behind the thin facade of strength she portrayed before the monster and her friends, that there was a hollowness that was beginning to settle deep with her soul.
She could forgive John and Lyla because they had been nowhere near to have even noticed or seen the initial signs, and, she liked to believe that despite Oliver being her best friend that John, who truly knew her, would have seen it and asked the right questions. But neither he nor Lyla, and even for that matter Sara, had seen though her easily hidden lies. She could even somewhat forgive Roy, who while having grown in the Glades, and seen some horrifying things, could not have experienced something like this. She could especially forgive Oliver, for his mind had been on other things, like distracting Slade, so that she could put the final steps in their plan into fruition. Even Slade, to a point and only a point, could she understand his motives for doing what he had done and understand that the Mirakuru had truly twisted him into a monster unlike even Malcom Merlyn.
What she could not forgive, nor understand was Laurel's blatant disinterest in Felicity. Laurel, who had been literally right next to her, who could hear her pained whimpers, and who could smell the mix of sweat and blood. Why had she not said anything, asked anything? Was the woman truly so self-involved that she could not see the broken body and soul of Felicity Smoake right next to her. And, what made it all the more worse was that Laurel, who had been captured with her by the same monster and mad men, had somehow escaped the horrible and demoralizing fate that had befallen her. What made Laurel Lance so goddam special?
In the end, none of it mattered. Slade had been defeated, and had not spoken a word about what else had transpired that night. And with his silence, she too remained silent, because for Oliver to know the truth would destroy him. They would lose him completely and Felicity would follow, because she had always done so, and she would not be able to handle the overwhelming reality of what had been done to her.
And so Felicity Smoake, who could not lie to save her life and had no such poker face, began to tell the easiest lie ever told.
And life went on.
The city began to heal. Sara left with Nyssa. Detective Lance and Laurel began to move on. Oliver began to protect the city, once again, as did John, Lyla, and Roy. And as for Felicity, she began to heal physically and mentally from her ordeal. In all honesty, she began to forget.
It was in these days, only a few months after the Riots, when fate would intervene, and Felicity's world would be forever changed.
The easiest lie she ever told would soon become greatest secret she could never keep. And one thing to know about Felicity Smoake was that while she could gloss over a small lie, a very tiny, but extremely important secret is an entirely different animal.