runningred | to Berlin with love.

"One in space, one in time." Jay shrugs.

He laughs at the poke. "Yes, I'm after the authentic German experience." He managed in very American German, sounding just as awful as intended but ruined by the grin.

"And I was included in that experience," Emcee chirps, at which the bartender laughs.

"Well, in Germany there is something for everyone," he says, taking a glass with a stout bowl shape from the shelf and moving to the beer tap. "How about a nice Berliner Weisse? A white beer that Napoleon's armies allegedly dubbed the champagne of the North."

Emcee's interest piques. This man seems to know his regional history. He's already brimming with questions but doesn't want to seem too eager.

"I like the sound of that." Jay chuckles, giving the man a grateful nod and sipping the beer. "Yeah, I'm not sure about Napoleon's claim. I like this better than champagne." Okay, so his German is better than he let on at first.

He cocks his head at the bartender, sensing Emcee's interest and his hesitation. "You sound like a man who knows his history?"

American tourists are allowed to be nosy.

"I'm glad you think so," the bartender says with a grin, also impressed with Jay's command of the language.

He sets a glass of gin on a coaster in front of Emcee, and Emcee thanks him, immediately taking a sip when Jay asks his question.

"It helps in this job. We get a lot of tourists in this part of the city. And besides, I grew up here and I still love it. Judging by your accent," he then says, addressing Emcee, "I take it you're a native, too?"

Emcee smiles behind his glass. "Good ear," he replies. "But I've been away for quite a while so it's been interesting seeing what's changed."

Jay gives Emcee a playful nudge. "Well, I'm new here. And I'd love to know more about the area."

"Well," says the bartender, "as you might have noticed, this is a gay neighborhood. The community dates back to the turn of the twentieth century, and it was quite a vibrant scene in the 1920s. There were bars, nightclubs, dance halls, and theaters, catering exclusively to gay men and women. You think modern day society is progressive now? Back then, there were already dozens of periodicals published here, by and for gays, and out in the open, too."

Emcee would know. He used the pages for wallpaper.

Jay chuckles, resting his arm around Emcee's waist. "Yeah, we'd kinda noticed it was a friendly neighbourhood." He frowns softly, not sure how to bring up that Germany doesn't have a great history for such friendliness.

He's not sure he wants Emcee to know how deeply shit went wrong.

Emcee leans into Jay's side and smiles faintly.

"It really is good to know that some things endured," Emcee says, as he takes a sip of his drink. "How about this place, then? What's the story behind The Cat and Mouse?"

He might as well go ahead and ask.

"Oh, this place has had a long history, actually," the bartender replies. "The Cat and Mouse is a relatively new incarnation, just about three years. The new owner wanted something retro. I think of it as the Forties as if done in the Eighties."

Jay would understand what that means, but Emcee obviously has to chuckle along with it.

"There were several other clubs that called this place home throughout the decades, but if you ask me, the most famous one of all was the Kit Kat Klub in the 1930s."

And here, Jay will feel Emcee's body stiffen just a tad.

Jay shudders, chuckling. "Yeah, bad retro retro. I can see it. It's um... pretty awful." He admits.

Jay's arm tighten ever so slightly around Emcee's waist, supporting him without being too obvious. "I've heard of that one. They made a play about it didn't they?"

"Oh, yes, it was the focal point of a play, a musical, and a film, although if you really want a more realistic look at life during that time, read Christopher Isherwood. His Berlin Stories are what the plays were based on, and they remain some of the best works by an outsider looking in -- he was an English ex-pat, you see, and gay. He was there when life became increasingly difficult for those of his kind-- our kind," he adds with a small smile.

So is Emcee.

He doesn't quite know what to do with this-- this legacy. Because it is a legacy. It's what happens when someone or something endures time, defies it, to become remembered or even celebrated long after they're gone.

He'd never given thought to what it would be like to be remembered.

"We should find a copy." Jay suggests softly to Emcee. "When we get home."

But part of him is wondering if Emcee knew this English ex-pat. If he was a regulars at the Klub.

Emcee is pulled out of his thoughts, and he looks up at Jay and nods with a smile, though it's a bit distant and distracted.

"Yes, we should," he agrees, before taking a sip of gin.

The question on his lips may be a dangerous one, but he asks it anyway. It's like jumping off a cliff.

"Do you know what happened to the Kit Kat Klub?"

The bartender scratches his chin. "Well, it's not quite clear, given the time period. During the early- to mid-Thirties, there were raids on many similar places to shut them down. Around this time the owner may have tried to keep it open by changing the nature of the establishment-- either opting for more 'conventional' entertainment that complied with prudent standards, or turning it into a restaurant. Somewhere along the line it changed hands. But it definitely was not its old self after the War."

Emcee tries not to look too shaken. He grips his glass so tightly that his fingertips are white.

"That's a shame," he manages to say.

Jay manages to cup Emcee's hand, sliding the glass out of his fingers before it breaks.

Jay glances to the barman. "Can you excuse us for a moment?" He gently leads Emcee away to a quiet corner, putting his arms protectively around him, shielding him from the world.

Emcee lets himself be led away in a daze, and he finds himself with Jay's arms around him, his cheek pressed to Jay's shoulder. For a while he just stands there, stunned and silent.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs hoarsely as he curls his fingers into Jay's shirt. "I had to ask. I had to know, but I didn't-- I didn't expect it to hurt that much to hear it."

"You've got nothing to be sorry for, love. We both knew this wouldn't be easy. But I'm here, okay? You're not alone. No matter how many ghosts are pressing in one you right now, you're not facing them alone."

He inhales sharply, his breath hitching.

"Ghosts. That's what they are. Ghosts of everyone and everything I ever knew."

He swallows hard as tears sting his eyes, but he wills them not to fall. After a few moments, he shifts and pulls away just enough to pick his head up and wipe an eye with the heel of his hand.

"And your legacy." He whispers, kissing Emcee's cheek.

He holds Emcee as he wipes the tear away. "There are bathrooms just behind you if you want to get cleaned up. Then we can go somewhere else for a little while." Somewhere the ghosts aren't quite as thick.

He doesn't say anything about a legacy and passively accepts the kiss to his cheek. But he does manage to croak out a dry chuckle.

"I know where the bathrooms are."

Gently moving out of Jay's arms, he steps away and heads for the men's room. It's clean and shiny and almost depressingly modern. He can't imagine giving anyone a blowjob in one of those stalls or snorting cocaine off the edge of the sink.

But he dries his eyes and fixes his makeup, and takes a few moments to compose himself. He comes out looking a little better, determined to get through today.

"I at least need to finish my drink."

Jay's leaning on the bar when he comes out, chatting to the barman. Things are starting to warm up, a few more people arriving as tourist hour ends and the real crowd arrives.

He nods and offers Emcee his glass.

"On me." The barman pours him another drink. "Your friend told me you had family working here during the war. When it was the Kit Kat Klub. You drink here free, any time you like."

Again, Emcee is stunned into silence, but this time it's of a different sort.

He takes the glass from Jay, looking at him with slightly widened eyes. And then he looks at the barman.

"Yes. I-- I did. Thank you."

That's a simple but brilliant explanation, which actually kind of makes Emcee want to cry for real. Instead he empties his glass, and takes the other.

"I just feel very-- intensely connected to this place, even though it's no longer what it was. But that's how life goes. We all have to move on."

The barman gives him a gentle nod. "We all have some connections to the darkest parts of our nation's history. And it's important to keep those connections alive. If we forget, we risk it happening again."

He glances around, catching another barman's eye and nodding. "Look, I got a break coming up. Do you wanna meet me out back? I've got some stuff that might interest you."

Emcee takes a sip of gin and glances from the bartender to Jay and back again.

"Yes, sure," he says, his curiosity piqued. "What kind of stuff?"

"Old photos, some personal affects." He explains. "The place has been renovated so many time but I found a few boxes that had been shoved in a roof cavity. I can't promise any of it belonged to your family but... it feels right to give it to someone who was connected to this place."

Emcee's eyes become even wider, and he gapes a little as he considers this.

"I-- yes! Yes, thank you, I would certainly like to see what you've found."

The whole idea feels strange. But Emcee has to know more, no matter how much it hurts. Because maybe...maybe then he'll know what to do.

Edited 2016-05-14 13:04 (UTC)

The barmen nods. "I'll grab it and meet you round back."

Jay finished his drink and wraps an arm around Emcee's waist. "You okay with this?" He asks, letting Emcee take the lead to wherever the back is.

After all, Emcee knows this place better.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject