The Secretarial Arts

Author: dettiot

Rating: G

Summary: Felicity Smoak isn't the first executive that Jerry has worked with. The first half of season 3 from the perspective of Felicity's executive assistant.

Disclaimer: I don't own Arrow. No copyright infringement intended.

Author's Note: This idea popped into my head and wouldn't let me go. There is some speculation based off rumors about 3x09 and what's going to happen, if you're being careful with spoilers.

XXX

Felicity Smoak isn't the first executive that Jerry has worked with. He started off as an assistant to one of the HR managers, then worked with a Finance VP. But Finance was really boring, and Applied Sciences seemed like an interesting division, so when he heard there was a new Applied Sciences VP needing an assistant, Jerry had jumped at it.

He didn't realize he'd be working for one of his own.

Not that Felicity Smoak had been like the other executive assistants. When she had become EA to Oliver Queen, the gossip mill had practically exploded. It was bad enough that the position hadn't been advertised at all, but the fact that someone who had worked in the IT department and had no assistant experience got the job? Well, the rumors were pretty graphic about just how Ms. Smoak had gotten the position.

If that had been the case, which Jerry hadn't thought it was, he wouldn't have blamed her. Because he sure wouldn't have said no to anything that Oliver Queen asked of him. Heck, if Ms. Smoak had been the one asking, Jerry wouldn't have turned her down, either.

But once Jerry becomes Ms. Smoak's EA, he realizes that that rumors had been very, very wrong.

XXX

It had all started during their first meeting. Ms. Smoak looked gobsmacked by Mr. Palmer making her a VP, which Jerry could understand. So he waited until an hour before lunch to tap on her door and step into her office, holding two cups of coffee and his tablet tucked under his arm. "Ms. Smoak?"

Her hair looked frizzier than it did this morning, which wasn't surprising with how she had been running her hands through it since Mr. Palmer left. Like she couldn't believe what she had gotten herself into. When she looked at Jerry, her glasses slid further down her nose. "Yes?"

The poor woman sounded completely frazzled. Jerry made his voice gentle. "I thought now would be a good time for us to talk about what you expect from me." He eased over towards her and set down one of the cups of coffee on her desk. "And I thought you could use a fresh cup."

"God, yes," she said, snatching up the coffee and taking a long swallow from it. She let out a sigh and leaned back in her chair. "Some boss, huh?"

"You've only been on the job two hours, Ms. Smoak," Jerry said, easing down into one of the chairs in front of her desk. "It's too soon to tell."

She huffed out a laugh and sits up straight in her chair. "You're very diplomatic. That's good, because I'm not. I babble. A lot. Which you already saw, really, so it's not a surprise." She looked at him and he sees the sudden flicker of recognition. "And I've seen you around, so you probably had already heard of me."

Jerry can see her bracing herself. Preparing for all this to go south. But he was never much for adding to the rumor mill, so he just shrugged. "I had, although honestly, being the EA to the CEO is a real chore. No one should want that job."

"Especially considering who my CEO was?" she asked, pushing up her glasses as she sips her coffee.

It doesn't escape him that she says 'my CEO'. But it's because that's the kind of language all EAs use. It's 'my VP' or 'my division head'. It's all part of staking a claim in the hierarchy, showing everyone where you stand. Because without the EAs and administrative assistants and the rest of the paraprofessional army, a company like Queen Consolidated would be an even bigger mess.

Given the fact that Ms. Smoak and Mr. Queen had something more than a boss-secretary kind of relationship-anyone with eyes had seen that-Jerry just smiled and shrugged his shoulders again. He took a sip of his coffee and woke up his tablet. "Is the coffee all right? Do you prefer any particular flavorings?"

Ms. Smoak grinned at him. "Changing the subject. Nice. Vanilla. I like vanilla. But only in the afternoons-in the morning, I just want as much coffee as possible, with three sugars and no milk. Not that I expect you to wait on me hand and foot and monitor my caffeine intake, I'm perfectly capable of getting myself coffee when I need it."

He nodded as he took notes-going beyond what she said to add in his own impressions. "Yes, Ms. Smoak."

Her nose wrinkled a little. "You don't have to call me that. Felicity's fine. It's Jerry with a J, too, yes?"

"Yes, Ms.-Felicity," he said, catching himself and feeling slightly odd. None of his previous bosses had let him call them by their first names. Not right from the start. And for now, he's not even sure he can call her Felicity in his head. But he appreciates her sign of friendship.

"Oh, and, um, chocolate-covered espresso beans. I like to have those on hand when things are bad. But I cannot be trusted with them, so . . .?" Her voice was hopeful and Jerry nodded with a smile.

"I'll save you from yourself."

She let out a soft laugh. "That's it, exactly."

Well. This was going a lot better than he thought it would. Jerry smiled a little as he moved on to the next point. "Is there anyone who's always cleared to see you, regardless of an appointment?"

Jerry doesn't miss how Ms. Smoak's hand tightens around her cup for a moment. "Um, yeah. John Diggle. Roy Harper. And . . ." She paused for a long moment, then sighed softly. "Oliver Queen."

The second name she gave him, Jerry doesn't recognize. He vaguely remembered that John Diggle is the name of Mr. Queen's bodyguard. But it's the fact that she seemed so reluctant to give Oliver Queen access to her that made him curious. It's the last emotion he should show, though, so Jerry kept his face blank and just nodded as he types the names down.

Ms. Smoak blew out a breath. "I wasn't prepared for this."

One of the things he's picked up over the last few years is when to be silent. When to realize that your executive just needs to talk and doesn't need a response. He thinks this is one of those times-especially considering that Ms. Smoak, with her babble, seems like the type to think out loud.

"I thought I was going to be Ray's EA. That I was stuck in that role again. And instead . . . I'm in the old CEO's office and I'm a vice president and I'm going to do so much for a company that's not Oliv-" Her jaws clicked shut audibly, stopping her mid-word, but from the rush of color in her cheeks, she knew that she's said too much.

"I'm sorry, Jerry-I didn't mean to say that being an EA wasn't a good job, I was just lousy at it because I didn't want to do it but I got asked and he needed me and-and God, now I look crazy," she said, running her hands over her hair again.

"Not at all," he said quietly. "I understand. And honestly? I thought you were a good EA. Anyone else would have gotten steamrolled by Mr. Queen, I think."

She snorted. "Oh, I was, too." She looked like she wanted to say something, but she gave herself a shake and focused back on him. "I appreciate any help you can give me, Jerry."

"Of course, Felicity," he said, stumbling over her name and choosing to stand up, juggling his coffee and tablet a little. "Would you like to go over your schedule for the rest of the day?"

"Yes," she said, straightening up and tipping her cup back, finishing off her coffee and impressing Jerry with how fast she can drink it. "Let's get to work."

XXX

From what Jerry can tell, Ms. Smoak is a certifiable genius. She babbles a lot because her mind moves quicker than her mouth does, which should be impossible, but isn't. Ms. Smoak reminds him a lot of the women in movies from the 1940s, all wisecracks and fast talking. The kind of woman that's always the smartest person in the room. He's seen the way she interacts with other people, though, and she's nice to everyone, regardless of their intelligence level. But when she's in a groove? It's best to just stay out of her way and let her do what she does, or else she'll give you that look that says you're an idiot.

She works very hard, too-there's a lot of late nights when she's still working when he leaves and days when he can see the dark circles under her eyes. On those days, he secretly adds an extra shot to her coffees in the morning and a double helping of vanilla to her afternoon lattes. And he knows she appreciates it, because some days he comes in and finds a gift card propped against his computer.

So it's all going pretty well. Ms. Smoak is a good boss. She's not too demanding; if anything, she does things that she should let him handle, like managing her schedule. But it's been working for them so far, so he just accepts it as one of her quirks. All executives have them, and really, being a bit protective of certain things is something he can understand.

It doesn't escape Jerry's attention that Mr. Palmer spends a lot of time visiting Ms. Smoak. He's clearly interested in more than just her mind, and if Jerry gossiped about that kind of thing, he'd be the most popular EA at Queen Consolidated/Palmer Technologies, getting pumped for new info every day at lunchtime.

But he doesn't think Ms. Smoak is as interested as Mr. Palmer is. Sure, she goes to business dinners with him, and Mr. Palmer's assistant has kept everyone informed about the dresses and jewelry she's been tasked with getting for Ms. Smoak. But . . . but there's just something about the way Ms. Smoak talks about Mr. Palmer that makes Jerry doubtful.

It's probably because Oliver Queen is totally in love with her but they're not together.

There had been rumors back when Ms. Smoak was Mr. Queen's EA, of course. Jerry had seen them together a few times and had wondered if they were secretly dating. Because there's definitely something there, even now. But when Mr. Palmer took over the company, it was like Mr. Queen became a ghost. Not that he had been inside the building all that much even as CEO, but there was no sign he had come back since he lost his family's company.

But he just has this feeling that there's something there between his boss and the former CEO. And Jerry doesn't like having feelings that he can't explain. Everything can be figured out, even insubstantial things like emotions. So he starts watching to see if he can get to the bottom of this. Because he likes Ms. Smoak.

XXX

The first clue he gets is when John Diggle appears one day and spends a few minutes talking to Ms. Smoak. He isn't eavesdropping, but he can tell Ms. Smoak isn't happy having this conversation. Like a good EA, he gets up to offer her an out by claiming she has a meeting, in time to overhear her say something about Oliver should be the one to talk to her about whatever is bothering him.

That seems pretty clear-cut: Ms. Smoak and Mr. Queen are fighting about something, and Mr. Diggle was trying to intervene. But there doesn't seem to be any change after that, so Jerry just keeps watching.

Sitting at his desk, Jerry knows who calls Ms. Smoak's office, either the main extension or the direct line that goes directly to Ms. Smoak. When he started seeing the same number appear on the display for her desk phone, only for the caller to hang up as soon as anyone answered, he got curious-and a little worried-and made a note of the number. Then he ran it by one of the security guys who owes Jerry a favor, and the security guy then asks his girlfriend in IT to check on the number. And it turned out that the number was for a cell phone registered to Oliver Queen.

Normally, Jerry would think that this was some kind of stalking situation. He'd talk to Ms. Smoak about his concerns, ask if they needed to alert security. But something makes him hold his tongue. As far as he knows, Mr. Queen and Ms. Smoak are still friendly, even if he never comes by to visit her or anything. It's not exactly boyfriend behavior, let alone stalker behavior. So maybe it's something else. But Jerry keeps a close eye on Ms. Smoak-and restocks the chocolate-covered espresso beans, just in case. And since he knows she also likes mint chocolate chip ice cream, he stashes a pint in the executive break room's freezer.

The final sign, though, is when a huge bouquet of flowers is delivered in mid-December. Jerry has never seen such a humongous arrangement-or such a colorful one. His mind boggles at how much it must have cost, since he worked at a florist's during high school and knows the expense of a bouquet of this size. It's breath-taking, really: a large vase, filled with blooms in every shade of pink and red and orange and yellow, artfully arranged to look careless and free. There's roses and lilies and Gerber daisies, and it shouldn't work, but it does.

Jerry stumbles under the weight of the flowers as he moves them from his desk to the credenza behind Ms. Smoak's desk. They really brighten up the office and he thinks she'll like them a lot. They seem very . . . her. He sets the card that came with the flowers in front of the vase, then goes to make a fresh pot of coffee, since Ms. Smoak will be here any minute.

The executive break room doesn't have any of the sweetener that she prefers, so Jerry goes down the hall to the administrative assistant's lounge to get some. A few assistants are milling around, and they all accost him to ask questions about the flowers.

"I don't know who they're from," he says, trying to head off the gossip.

"They're not from Mr. Palmer," Samantha says, flaunting her position as the CEO's EA. "He's not so flashy."

Jerry shrugs and grabs the box of sweetener packets, heading back to the other break room. He's vaguely conscious of some increased noise coming from down the hall as he prepares Ms. Smoak's coffee, but he doesn't really think anything of it.

Not until he pulls up in front of Ms. Smoak's door, shocked at what he's seeing.

A pile of stems are on the floor, petals in various hues scattered around. And at the center of the disaster is Ms. Smoak, calmly reaching into the vase and plucking another flower out.

He watches in horror as she pulls the petals off a rose, letting them flutter to the floor before she drops the stem and repeats the process. She's absolutely silent, but even from here Jerry can see that her shoulders and arms are tight with tension. Her movements are getting a bit jerky, speeding up, and suddenly she stops and rests her hands on the credenza, leaning forward heavily and looking, in a word, defeated.

What should he do? Should he call Mr. Queen? Or one of her other friends? Not that he has numbers for Mr. Diggle or Mr. Harper. Should he leave her alone? Act like everything was normal?

When he sees her shoulders shake and hears a soft catch in her throat, he realizes she's crying. And that makes Jerry move.

Setting down her coffee on the desk, he walks over and lightly touches her arm. "Felicity?" he says quietly, unable to use 'Ms. Smoak' at a time like this. "Let me get these flowers out of here."

She shakes her head. "No," she says quietly, her voice just above a whisper.

"But Felicity-"

To his surprise, Felicity whirls to face him. "No!" she says, her voice positively regal in its tone and volume. "They're all I have!"

Jerry takes a step back as he blinks, his shoes crushing the petals and sending up a cloud of thick fragrance. There's also a crumpling noise, and he sees that the card that came with the flowers is at the bottom of the pile of flora.

"Move," Felicity says, her words almost a command, as she pushes him out of the way. She crouches down and picks up the card, clutching it in her hand, then slumps down onto her knees and lowers her head.

Is she crying again? Jerry lowers himself down into an awkward squat. "Felicity, can I call anyone?"

She shakes her head. "I shouldn't have come in today."

Uh-oh. Ms. Smoak was nothing if not dedicated-the only day she hasn't come in was when her mother showed up, and even then she had been here for part of the day. But getting a huge bouquet of flowers, stripping their petals off, acting so strangely . . .

Did Mr. Queen break up with her? Not that Jerry was sure they were dating, but sending a big-ass flower arrangement seemed like the kind of thing rich people did after a breakup.

Or was it Mr. Palmer? It's possible, but Jerry agrees with Samantha: this kind of gesture doesn't seem like his style. Besides, whoever sent these flowers to Ms. Smoak knows her. Knows her very, very well.

"I can clear your schedule in a jiffy," he says quickly, feeling slightly dismayed that the phrase 'in a jiffy' had crossed his lips. "You can take the security elevator straight to the parking garage, so you won't be stopped by anyone on the way."

She looks up at him, her eyes blue and wet behind her glasses. He gives her a small, encouraging smile. "Go home, Felicity. I'll take care of things here."

Her face crumples a bit. "I-I used to say the same kind of thing to-" She stops and presses her lips together, looking completely wrecked. She's definitely sad; Jerry might even say heartbroken. But there's a glimmer of anger in her eyes, too, which strangely makes him feel less worried about her. Because if she's mad, she's going to try and make this situation better. Get through to Mr. Queen and make him see how dumb he's being. In a battle of wills between Ms. Smoak and Mr. Queen, Jerry's money is on his boss.

He straightens up and offers her his hand. "Come on," he says, helping her to her feet. "I don't think you want anyone to see you like this." He pauses and lowers his voice. "You know what the rumor mill is like around here."

With a soft huff, Ms. Smoak nods. "Do I ever." She runs a hand through her hair and then gives him a weak, wavering smile. "Thank you, Jerry."

"You're welcome, Felicity," he says. He picks up her coat and hands it to her, and passes her the still-warm cup of coffee. "For the road," he says, glad that he hadn't filled the mug all the way.

Ms. Smoak nods and takes a sip. "No matter how bad things get, there's always coffee," she says. There's only a glimmer of her normal cheer, but Jerry can't help smiling back.

"Yes, Ms. Smoak."

"Felicity, Jerry," she says, rolling her eyes a little, but in a nice way, as she walks towards the door of her office.

Jerry smiles a little and nods. "Yes, Felicity."

Once she's gone, Jerry takes a deep breath, then wishes he hadn't. The rich scent of bruised flower petals fills the room and it's not entirely pleasant. It takes him back to memories he doesn't want to think about right now, so he pushes them aside as he heads to the janitor's closet.

The stems and petals fill up a garbage bag, but Jerry doesn't touch the flowers that are left. He leaves them in their vase and hefts up the bag, heading for the trash, when he stops and sees the bent white card that's laying face-down on Ms. Smoak's desk.

He shouldn't look at it. But even as the thought crosses his mind, he's picking it up and turning it over.

I love you.
No maybes.
Goodbye.

The handwriting is masculine and one step up from chicken scratch. It's definitely not Mr. Palmer, he realizes as his stomach sinks.

No, this is from Mr. Queen. And now he can guess why Ms. Smoak looks heartbroken.

Jerry carefully places the card back down on the desk, as he found it, and lifts up the bag again. There's a lot to be done to hold down the fort while Ms. Smoak is gone. A lot of uncertainty.

But one thing Jerry is sure of: if Mr. Queen ever comes here, Jerry will definitely not get him a cup of coffee.

End.