It was the night things changed

Can you see it now?

Taylor Swift - Change

I'd had pretty much the same work routine since moving into the old apartment building in the Narrows almost a year ago. Get up, get ready, head out to be at the hotel for five in the evening, leave the hotel at two in the morning, and arrive back at home just before three. Take the elevator up, and just be getting into my apartment as my quiet neighbour from across the hall rounded the corner on his way to his. He took the stairs, see, and I took the elevator, so our paths never really crossed.

I hadn't really gotten to know anybody since moving in. I already had a few friends I could barely make any time for, and didn't look to make more. Especially in the Narrows. Besides, I got to socialize with lots of interesting folk at work. I was working at a fairly nice hotel in Gotham. I worked the bar, mostly, and provided some entertainment by way of singing there a couple times a week. Waitressed when needed. I liked my job. Sure, Gotham is dangerous, but you adapt. You stay on your toes and keep your eyes open. You make do.

Things started changing for me one night when I arrived back at my apartment building to see a hand written "Out Of Order!" sign taped to the elevator. I sighed and shook my head. I don't really like having my routine messed with (plus, I lived on the sixth floor), but there was nothing I could do about it. I turned towards the stairs and noticed my neighbour just opening the door to ascend them himself. He saw me approaching and held the door for me, smiling sympathetically. I guess my routine hadn't gone unnoticed by him. Either that or he'd seen my four inch heels. His smile extended outwards further than the average smile would, thanks to scars on either side of his mouth. I barely noticed them from afar, but they must have been painful and prominent at one point. They'd faded a great deal.

"Thanks," I smiled back at him. He nodded in response.

We climbed the stairs in a somewhat awkward silence until about the third floor when he spoke up, "You're dressed far too nicely to be coming home to the Narrows." He said, a laugh on his breath as he spoke.

I paused to remove my impractical shoes and glanced down at the dark green, satin dress that swished around my knees as I walked, "Yeah, it's just for work." I chuckled back, opting not to elaborate. The hotel liked it if I dressed up when I was singing. Gave it a more 'classy' feel, they said. I straightened up, shoes in hand, and we started to climb the stairs once again. I was surprised he had bothered waiting for me.

"Ah, say no more," he said with a wave of his hand, indicating his attire. It was only then I noticed he was wearing a black button down with the logo for the Wild Card Club a few blocks away. That explains why he kept such late hours, too.

We walked in a relaxed silence until we got to our floor. When we reached our doors he thrust his hand towards me, "It's Jack, by the way. I don't think we've officially met..." he trailed off, another smile gracing his scarred, but otherwise handsome, face.

"Kaylie," I took his hand with a smile. "And, we haven't, but it's nice to finally meet you. I'll see you 'round, Jack."

"Tomorrow night, I reckon?" He smirked as we turned to our respective doors and headed in for the night.

Once inside, I went about my normal routine (though a bit quicker than I would have had I not had to take the stairs, to make up for the time). My mind kept wandering back to my handsome, friendly neighbour. How had it been that I'd never taken a moment to introduce myself to him? I shook my head as I put some food down for my two cats. Once they were fed, I changed from my green dress into a long, blue nightshirt and got myself ready for bed.

I was on the bar the next night and, admittedly, I was anticipating the end of my shift. Something about Jack made me eager to get home and chat my way up the stairs with him. I tried not to let it distract me from my work too much, though, and just worked the night away. Thankfully, it was Friday and, as such, quite busy. The shift went by pretty quickly and I soon found myself heading to the bus home.

I was jittery on the ride home. Anxious to get there, bouncing my jean-clad knee and fiddling with my long, red hair, as I removed it from its clip. As I got nearer to my stop, my heart started beating faster and I shook my head at myself. I was being silly. 'No reason to get all worked up over a neighbour you only just met,' I thought to myself. 'You're too old to be having a high school crush.'

I was always glad that the bus stopped just across from my building. The Narrows is a rough enough place to live without having to brave a long walk home at nearly three in the morning. I was doubly glad for it tonight, though, and as I walked through the doors of the building, I smiled to see Jack leaning on the wall just outside the door to the stairs.

"Thought I'd missed you," he said, returning my smile and opening the door for me once again. I found myself glad that he had thought about me at all.

"No, just the busses running a bit behind tonight," I explained, throwing my hair behind my shoulders. Jack nodded.

We climbed the stairs side by side, neither of us seeming to be in a hurry to reach our floor. "Wonder when they'll get around to fixing the elevator," Jack said lightly, glancing sideways through dirty blonde curls at me as he spoke.

I shrugged, "Who knows? With this place, it will probably be ages," I laughed before adding, "at least the company's good."

I got a full, toothy smile for that, "Yeah, nice to have someone to pass the walk with. When I first moved in here, I got stuck in that damn elevator for over 3 hours with half of the stuff I was moving in. The other half got stolen from the sidewalk when the cab driver left it there and drove off, sick of waiting," He laughed at his own misfortune. "I haven't been in it since."

"Can't say I blame you, there. I feel a bit apprehensive now, myself," I replied.

Jack regarded me with dark, brown eyes, "To be fair, this is the Narrows, it was probably stolen within the first ten minutes."

I found myself nodding and laughing at the truth of his statement as we reached our floor.

"Y'know," Jack began as we stopped to unlock our doors. "I have a theory about you." He pointed at me and shook his hand towards me as he did so.

"Well, if you'd like to come in for a cup of tea, you're welcome to share it," I invited. "Otherwise, it'll have to wait until tomorrows walk."

Jack squinted his eyes and smirked at my forwardness, but took his key out of his door and made sure it was still locked before wordlessly crossing the hall. I opened my door, "After you," he gestured grandly with his hand and mock bowed. I shook my head and laughed, walking in with him on my heels. 'This could prove to be some interesting tea-time chat,' I thought to myself as I closed my door. I wasn't wrong.

Jack would always describe this night as our first date. That always made me laugh. He liked to think that I was the one to ask him out first. That I was so smitten with him from the get-go that I just had to ask him out right away, lest someone else scoop him up. I'd always roll my eyes at him and nudge him when he told the story. I suppose he was right in some ways, I was smitten with him right off the bat. However, this was not our first date, no matter how much he would have argued otherwise.

"Don't worry about your shoes," I said as he was about to kick his off. He nodded. I pointed towards the island in my kitchen. "Take a seat. I'll be right out," I went to the second bedroom, which doubled as a computer/kitty room, and put some food down for the cats. I heard Jack chuckle as the younger one, Samson, raced down the hall from, I assume, the window ledge in the living room. The older one, Stanley, was curled up on the computer chair and took a slower approach to getting his dinner.

Jack was facing the hallway when I walked out, sitting on the nearest stool, leaning back with his elbows on the countertop. He had unbuttoned his sleeves and rolled them up. He looked at me in amusement, "You've got a cat?"

I held up two fingers, "Actually, I've got two," I corrected him. "Why, you not a cat person?" I narrowed my eyes jokingly.

He put up his hands, but kept his elbows firmly on the counter, "I'm fine with cats. You just didn't strike me as a pet person," He pointed at me with his right index finger as he lowered his left hand.

I walked around the island and into the kitchen, Jack spinning on his stool to watch me with a grin. I shook my head at him. "How do you take your tea?" I asked as I put the pot on the stove and took out two mugs.

"Just milk. No sugar, Sugar," He chuckled at his own joke and I rolled my eyes. I put a splash of milk at the bottom of both mugs and started putting three spoonful's of sugar in mine. "Geez," Jack exclaimed, watching. "Good thing I don't take sugar or you'd be out at the rate you're going."

"Very funny," I smirked, used to such jibes from others I've had tea with. "Three isn't that many. I worked at a coffee shop when I was in high school, and one of the regular customers took six sugars in a small tea."

Jack scrunched up his nose, "Who gets tea in a coffee shop?" I reached over the countertop and pushed him lightly on the shoulder. He laughed in an exaggerated manner at his own bad gag.

I rolled my eyes at him again and turned as I heard the kettle start to whistle at me from the stove. "So, what's this theory you have about me, Jack?" I inquired as I poured our tea.

"Ah, that's right. My theory," He cleared his throat behind his hand as though he was about to make a grand reveal, then paused, narrowing his eyes at me. "I'll wait until you put the tea down. I don't want to risk hot tea in the face if I'm wrong."

I passed him his tea and sat down across from him, setting my tea down and leaning forward, my hand still on the mug, "Careful, now, I've still got my tea, remember," I reminded him, jokingly.

He smirked through his first sip before talking, "Now, don't take this the wrong way, but, uh, given the way you occasionally dress... All fancy or classy or whatever you want to call it," he gestured with his hands as he spoke, and I reddened a bit at the fact that he'd taken notice of my clothing before last night. "And taking into consideration the fact that you live in the Narrows, which isn't quite in line with your fancy dress. It crossed my mind that you might be some kind of high class escort or something?" He held his breath for a moment and let it out slowly, clearly hoping he hadn't offended me with his theory.

I was slightly taken aback, but not offended. I found the way he rambled through that theory kind of amusing, and the tone of apprehension is his voice as he turned his theory into a question, as though sincerely hoping he was wrong. "Or something," I assured him. He let out a relieved breath I hadn't noticed he was holding and I laughed. "Though it's nice to know that, if I give off the hooker vibe, at least it's the high-class-hooker vibe," I winked.

Again, he put his hands up defensively. "Hey, I never said 'hooker,' I said 'escort.' You said 'hooker,' not me," he gestured between us as he spoke. "So, what is it, then? Restaurant hostess at some faux-classy joint in the city? But you're in jeans tonight, so...?" He narrowed his eyes as he tried to piece it together.

I grinned at his efforts, but decided not to leave him hanging. "I work at the Beckford Inn," I told him. "At the bar, usually, or waitressing. But, once or twice a week they have me on stage providing musical entertainment."

He took a long drink of his tea as he processed this. "What, so you sing? Play the piano? What?" He pushed, interested.

"Sing, mostly," I sipped my tea. "I do play guitar from time to time, but there's usually a house band there."

He swept his eyes across my living room before bringing them back to mine. "Where's your guitar?" The grin he was trying to suppress coming to the surface.

I pointed down the hall. "It's in my room," I brought my finger up, realizing where he was going with this, and pointed at him. "Don't even. Baker's don't want to come home after a long day and eat bread."

He leaned back and fixed me with a Cheshire cat grin. "No, but you, a bartender-former-coffeehouse-worker came home and fixed me a drink," he reasoned.

I shook my head, taking our empty mugs and placing them in the sink. "Forget it. You want to hear me sing, you'll have to come down to the Beckford when I'm on."

He put his arms out questioningly. "I work when you work, so how can I do that?" He raised his eyebrows, grin never wavering. When he grinned like this, it made his scars more prominent.

I shrugged, "That's not my problem, Mr. Wild Card Club. Take a night off."

He relented, sensing that he wasn't going to get his way this time. "Alright, alright," he paused, as if considering something. "I'll figure it out," He glanced at the microwave and his eyes widened. "I guess I should probably get over there," he gestured to the door, and in doing so, his apartment on the other side.

I looked at the time, as well. "Holy. Nearly four already? How does that happen?" I walked around the island and followed him the short distance to the door. "Thanks for the company, Jack," I smiled sincerely.

He smiled back, every bit as sincere, and put a hand on my upper arm. "Thanks for the tea, Sugar," he winked before opening the door and exiting, the door closing gently behind him. I quietly put my eye to the peep hole in my door and watched as he unlocked his own door. He turned his head slightly to the left, shaking his head and smiling to himself before he stepped into his apartment and shut the door.

I locked my own door and leaned back against it, biting my lip. 'I guess being too old for a high school crush won't stop you from having one, will it?' I thought to myself before shaking my head roughly. "Come on, now. Twenty-one isn't too old for a crush," I quietly assured myself, walking into the kitchen to clean the dishes. "Besides, I think it might be mutual."

A/N Just had this idea kicking around. It might be terrible! Let me know what you think. Also, when the scars are stated as being faded and barely noticeable, it's because they are. They aren't the same as the scars we're used to yet. That will come in time.