A person's identity is sacred. It holds all their memories, their deepest secrets, the things they would rather die than admit. Identity defines who we are, and who we expect ourselves to become. When that is taken away from us, that sense of certainty, it's wiped away. We're left with nothing, and no one. The slate is completely wiped clean. The wounds we have formed become deeper and deeper. Losing your identity is the worst curse imaginable.
/
"I can't wait for you to see her again."
Sara Lance was standing in front of Felicity's full-length mirror, fidgeting with her ash grey waffle weave thermal. Her feet, which were draped in black combat boots knotted neatly at the top, stood firmly on the sandy carpet. She had been in that same position for over twenty minutes.
"Trust me, Sare. I'm just as excited as you are. Maybe even more, considering how much you're fidgeting." Felicity, who was sitting comfortably on the bed, was rummaging around inside a steel briefcase. The initials "D.S" were engraved on the front. Felicity ran the soft pads of her thin fingers over the gold block lettering. She closed her eyes and inhaled slowly. An exhale shortly followed suit.
"I'm sorry. It's just all so intense. You haven't seen her in ten years, and you basically owe her your current life."
An almost indistinguishable knock could suddenly be heard throughout the entirety of the apartment. Felicity's heart started racing. Her already rosy cheeks became flushed and warm to the touch. Sara couldn't shake the ever growing smile plastered across her face. It was time.
Felicity peered through the peephole. A petite figure, with long blonde locks and glasses, wearing black satin peep-toe pumps, a polka-dot blouse that resembled a dalmatian, and a black patent cross-body satchel, couldn't obliterate her smile. Felicity opened the door.
"OH MY GOD." She was suddenly engulfed by the petite figure. Felicity couldn't help but smile to herself. This was someone she hadn't seen in ten years, but someone she owed everything. Without her help, Felicity would still be that lost little eight year old, mourning over her mother.
She made her way over to Sara, who was just as excited to see her. The trio exchanged greetings for some time before wading to Felicity's bedroom.
"So, what do you need me to do? Sara wasn't exactly that specific on the phone."
They were sitting in a semi-circle on Felicity's large queen bed. The bed was covered in an ashy pink comforter with horizontal stripes. The headboard was a deep mahogany, matching both the dresser and wardrobe. In front of them, pictures layed motionless. They were photos of Felicity when she was younger, when her mother was still alive. They were photos from the life she could not live, at least not yet.
"This is Tommy Merlyn." Felicity picked up a photo from the rather large pile in front of her. A smiling face stared back at her. Dusty blue eyes and deep brown hair made up Thomas Merlyn. He had a genuine smile in the photo, a smile that Felicity assumed was all an act.
"Malcolm Merlyn's son, I presume?" Sara took the photo from Felicity's hands and studied it herself, moments later passing it to their friend.
Felicity nodded. "Yes. He is going to be my key to getting close to the Merlyns. I get close to Tommy, I get to Malcolm. I get to Malcolm, I avenge my mother." Felicity fixed her blue eyes upon their friend.
"I need you to be Felicity. Once Malcolm finds out the daughter of the woman he screwed over is in town, he'll be disoriented. I know you can do this."
As she was speaking, Felicity ushered a photo of Oliver towards her friend. This particular photo was a more recent one. It was a clipping from the Star City Gazette, dating back two years ago. His perfectly aligned teeth, and his tousled hair, and his confident but subdued aura seeped through the photo like a perfume that smelled heavenly.
"Keep him safe." It came out of her mouth as almost a whisper, as if she only wanted her friend to hear. She wiped the quickly falling tears away, hoping Sara and her friend didn't notice her discomfort.
"I have an idea." Felicity sprung up from the bed and wandered over to her office. Sara and her friend followed close behind.
"What're you doing?" She heard Sara echo.
Felicity ruffled around in the drawer of a maple wood desk before finding a black sharpie. She delicately grabbed her friend's right hand, turning the wrist upward. Her hand was rather warm to the touch, and she could see the confused look on her friend's features.
"The star." She heard her friend quietly whisper. "You're giving me the star."
Sara smirked and crossed her arms. "Of course. Felicity's star tattoo. It's one of the only thing that connects her to her old life. It's the last piece of your transformation." Sara nudged their friend, who reciprocated with a warm, inviting smile.
"There. Now you really are Felicity Smoak." She placed the cap on the sharpie and watched as her friend moved her thumb over the new star tattoo that was on her wrist. A knot began to form in Felicity's throat. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Sara develop a concerned look. She flashed it Felicity's way, but she brushed it off moments later.
"That will always be your heart, Felicity. I'm just playing a part. I owe you, remember?"
Felicity's glossy lips curved into a friendly smile. "And I owe you, Maggie."
"So, what's next?" Sara's tone was breathy and light.
"Put on your fanciest dresses ladies. We have a party to attend."
/
Merlyn manor sat atop a large hill, overlooking Star City. The large manor was accompanied by one other lavish piece of architecture: Queen Mansion. The manor was abuzz with guests. The Merlyns were hosting their yearly benefit gala, which helped support families that lost loved ones in the explosion of Merlyn Enterprises. All of Star City's top socialites were at this party. Political figures, CEO's of billion dollar corporations. Malcolm Merlyn had scary connections.
"Everyone aware of their duties?" Felicity, along with Maggie, Sara, and their confidant and fellow partner-in-crime John Diggle, stood on the second floor of Merlyn Manor, overlooking the excited and conversational guests below. The walls behind them were adorned with paintings of the entire Merlyn family line, beginning in the late nineteenth century, up until now, where a painted portrait of Thomas Merlyn sat, smiling, soulless.
"I'm keeping an eye on Malcolm. Listening in on his conversations, monitoring his movements." Diggle, dressed to the tens in a fancy suit, stood as tall and firm as an oak. He made his descent down the stairs.
"I'm handling Thea. Keeping her company, catching up." Sara followed shortly after Diggle, lifting up the bottom of her floor-length gold gown as she made her way down the steps.
Felicity glanced over at Maggie, who was fidgeting. She was playing with her fingers, clearly a nervous wreck wearing a blue chiffon ball gown.
"You're going to do great. You have your earpiece in, so I can hear everything you're saying. I'm going to be focusing on Tommy, but if you need me to lead some of your conversations, I will."
Felicity spotted Tommy in the abundant crowd. His dark locks were gelled back. He had black slacks and a white suit coat, a black satin bow-tie completing his ensemble.
"Thanks. Do you see him?" Maggie had a hint of apprehension layered in her voice.
"Yeah." Felicity spotted Oliver in the crowd moments later. He too was dressed to the tens, adorned all in black. A stark white dress shirt poked out from beneath his suit jacket, his black, skinny tie finishing the look. "Yeah, I see him." Felicity smiled softly to herself.
"Good luck." Just as Maggie was making her descent down the vast staircase, Oliver turned. His eyes locked with Felicity's. All of a sudden, all the people in the room, they seemed to stand still. Time seemed to be moving at a snail's pace. She saw him smile, and slowly lift his right hand to wave. His left hand held a drink, which she presumed to be scotch. Neat, of course. His lips turned up into a large smile, spanning all across his handsome features. Felicity suddenly found herself losing desire to descend those steps and talk to Tommy Merlyn. Felicity idly, but genuinely, waved back.
Time suddenly sped up again, as Oliver spotted Maggie. That was Felicity's cue.
She made her way over to a waiter carrying a tray of champagne. She grabbed a flute, and scanned the room. "What's happening on your end, Digg?"
"Nothing yet. He's just mingling."
"I'm going in." Felicity, ducking and dodging her way through the large accumulation of fancy socialites, finally making her way to where Tommy was mingling.
"Oh my god! I'm so sorry." Felicity's champagne flute slipped out of her hands, spilling its contents all over Tommy Merlyn's expensive white suit jacket. A waiter quickly rushed over with towels, whom Felicity quickly swatted away undetected.
"What the hell? What where you're-" Their eyes locked. Felicity analyzed the look that suddenly formed on Tommy's face: he was awestruck.
She was in.
Identity can shield. It can hide away in the shadows, waiting to pounce on its next victim. When provided necessary means to alter one's identity, a person would stop at nothing to make that notion possible. They would do whatever it takes to make sure justice was served, even if that meant hiding in the shadows.