to Berlin with love.

[runningred]

 From here

Jay opens the door into a quiet back alley that could belong to any city - the lingering scent of garbage and the miss-matched colours where graffiti has been washed off or painted over. In the mid-afternoon chill of early spring, he takes Emcee's hand and leads him out into the street, pocketing the key. The sunlight is thin but warm and picks out the green swell of buds in the branches. The tree lined avenue is quiet this time of day. Not lacking in people but without rush, a lazy Saturday afternoon.

Comments

[i_am_your_host]

"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.

[runningred]

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.

[i_am_your_host]

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.

[runningred]

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?"

[i_am_your_host]

"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.

[runningred]

"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.

[i_am_your_host]

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.

[runningred]

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.

[i_am_your_host]

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."

[runningred]

"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."

[i_am_your_host]

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.

[runningred]

"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.

[i_am_your_host]

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."

[runningred]

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."

[i_am_your_host]

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."

[runningred]

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."

[i_am_your_host]

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?"

[runningred]

"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."

[i_am_your_host]

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.

[runningred]

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.

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee finishes his drink in a few swallows. It's almost like having stage fright.

"Yes," he answers with a nod. "I need to see what's left."

There's a glowing exit sign above a passageway between the restrooms and the stage. Of course, in Emcee's time, the sign wasn't there. Nor was the 'staff only' notice that doesn't seem to be enforced at all.

Emcee takes Jay by the hand and leads him through. It's dim and narrow and a bit musty-- at least this hasn't changed. The passageway opens onto a hall lined with closed doors. Here, Emcee stops short.

"These are the dressing rooms," he murmurs. "Or, they were."

The doors are old, the brass knobs tarnished with age. Except one is now a storage room, another a supplies closet. The third, in fact, remains a dressing room for whatever acts pass through here.

On a whim, Emcee bends down and peeks through the keyhole. It's dark inside.

"Peeping toms come back here to watch the boys and girls undress," he chuckles.

[runningred]

"And I'm sure you use to play up to those peeping toms too." Jay chuckles. "I can imagine you undressing just a little slow than needed, just to give them a show."

He runs a gentle hand up Emcee's back. "Come on."

The barman's out the back in the alley, smoking a cigarette with the slow intensity of someone who only allows themselves one a day. "Hope you don't mind?" He gestures with the cigarette.

[i_am_your_host]

"Of course they got their eyeful," he snorts with a chuckle.

The hall goes further on a bit, lit at the end by another exit sign. Emcee pushes the door open (new, with modern security), and out into the alley. They could have gone out of the bar and around the building, but where's the adventure in that?

"Mind?" he says to the barman. "Are you kidding? They're part of my daily diet."

[runningred]

Jay might have slipped something over the lock of the door as they head out. Just in case they want to go back that way. There was no thought involved, more of a reflex actions.

The barman nods and offers them the pack, lighting them with a battered 50s zippo. "I've been trying to quiet but it's not working so far." He takes another slow drag, savouring it.

He picks up the shoe box he has resting on one of the bins and offers it to Emcee. "I hope there's something in there that helps you connect."

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee thanks the barman for the cigarette and takes a much-needed drag. "I don't know how I made it this far on this trip without one," he chuckles.

It's a chuckle designed to hide his nervousness. Because as he takes the shoe box, he's not quite sure if he isn't going to drop it and send its contents scattering.

So he sets it back down on the bin. And he braces himself as he removes the lid.

Papers. Yellowed, aged papers. Notes, handwritten and typed. Pages from a financial ledger. Emcee is startled to see how aged they are, flaking at the edges, when back home they would be as fresh and crisp off a typewriter.

"Oh, look, a cocktail menu," he says with amusement as if it were a relic, when copies of it are on every table at the Klub back home.

There are photographs at the bottom of the box. Emcee tries not to dive at them at once.