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

[runningred]

Jay chuckles. "Maybe in your time but in the last few decades Americans have distinguished themselves for being loud, rude and disrespectful. I've gotten very good at sounding Canadian or Australian. They're harder to dislike."

He follows, bounding up the stairs and perching next to Emcee.

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee frowns at that. "Oh, well, that's unfortunate. I suppose every country has its boorish travelers, but perhaps America sends the most of them abroad," he says with a wry chuckle.

As he sits on the edge of his seat, he stares out the windows at the passing buildings with awe. He's a little more comfortable now, even if things still feel different to him.

"I know I shouldn't hold out hope that my usual haunts are still there. Maybe at least the buildings are still standing."

[runningred]

"Or taken out of their culture, Americans discover they really aren't the leaders of the free world they think they are. So they become obnoxious just to defend their right to think they're right." He mutters darkly, not particularly proud of his own country.

He leans against Emcee, arm around his waist to support him. "You never know. Time moves on but history leaves it's mark."

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee looks at him and rubs his knee. "I think I have more faith in your own people than you do," he says, as he looks back out the window. "But I don't know. Perhaps they really have changed."

A contemplative pause.

"History leaves its mark on people, too. Maybe that's what it was."

[runningred]

"Maybe. Maybe we only really see our culture for what it is, good or bad, when it's take out of the context we see it from." He muses.

He hugs Emcee softly. "I think the scars are still there, just below the surface. But I think there's pride there too."

He points to the buildings around them. Every balcony is hung with flowers, with green and growing things. The shops around them are well looked after, clean and vibrant. "The people of this city clearly take so much pride in the place."

[i_am_your_host]

He leans into the hug, settling back against the seat.

"It's possible to be proud of one's culture and country without being an asshole about it," he declares, glancing up at him with a smirk.

"I'm sure there are Americans like that. But people are people, really. It's ideologies that screw us up and make us think we're better than everyone else. I'm looking at all these people now and thinking, what is the lesson here? Have they all forgotten? How do they live with such a black mark on their country's past? It's not even distant history, not even a hundred years have passed."

And it dawns on him.

"There are actually still people alive who survived."

[runningred]

"And not all American tourists are assholes." He concedes. "But the ones who are, are loud and memorable. And they can be arrogant about other people's mistakes rather than learning from it."

Jay pulls him a little closer at the realisation, squeezing softly. "There are survivors, yes. There's a memorial park. Some of them gather there, to talk and play chess. If you want to, we could go talk to them?" It might be a bit much but he has to offer.

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee is silent for a while, watching the scenery pass.

"No, I don't think I could," he then says quietly. "It isn't my place to do so. Just knowing that they exist is enough for me."

He sighs.

"I just want to see if I belong."

[runningred]

Jay gives him another squeeze. He could tell Emcee that belonging was a state of mind but it sounded trite, even to himself.

So he settled for giving Emcee whatever silent support he could.

[i_am_your_host]

To Emcee it's more than a state of mind; it has to feel like home.

He's quiet for nearly the rest of the ride, only pointing out shapes in the skyline that look familiar or commenting on some shiny, modern structure.

At one point he asks, "What is McDonald's and why are there so many of them?"

[runningred]

Jay chokes a laugh. "Um, yeah. I guess there are a few of them, aren't there. It's a massive chain fast food restaurant. The food is awful but it's cheap and pretty much the same anywhere you go. Anywhere in the world, really."

He muses for a moment. "McDonald's is like the cockroach of foods. Gross and unkillable."

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee huffs a chuckle and shakes his head. "That's ridiculous. We passed about three of them already, almost all in a row. At least that's something I can blame Americans for."

Luckily Starbucks hasn't caught on in Berlin yet.

He leans forward again, pointing through the window.

"Our stop should be coming up. I see the dome of the train station."

It's shaped the same as he knows it in his time, but it's an entirely new structure made of shiny steel and glass. Everything is just so shiny these days.

[runningred]

Jay chuckles and gives him a little squeeze. "Yeah, that you can blame us for."

He cranes to look at the dome. "I take it that's been replaced since your time?"

[i_am_your_host]

"Yes. It's very strange to see how some very old buildings are still standing yet everything surrounding them is utterly unfamiliar to me."

He blinks, and frowns, and puts his fingers to his lips. Thinking of Sam Stewart. All those air raids.

"Oh, fuck. No wonder I hardly recognize anything. The city had been bombed."

[runningred]

Jay wraps his arms around Emcee, resting his head on Emcee's shoulder. "Yeah, love. Sorry. The Americans were responsible for a lot of it."

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee is silent again.

He doesn't know the details of who bombed what and where and when and for how long. All he knows is that it was a vastly different war than the Great War. This war actually came to Berlin.

After a while, he squeezes Jay's knee.

"This is our stop, darling," he says, moving to get up as the bus approaches a glass bus shelter on the curb.

Once they step off, Emcee takes it all in, turning a full circle as if to orient himself.

A lot is missing. A lot has changed.

"What do those rainbow flags mean?"

They seem to be in almost every shop window, hanging off every awning.

[runningred]

Jay moves silently at his side, there for support without pressure.

Until Emcee ask the question, then he grin. "Pride, darling. Gay pride. We must be here in time for Christopher Street Day."

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee raises an eyebrow.

"You mean they're going to have a gay festival in my own neighborhood?" he says wryly, though it's evident that he's highly amused by this.

There's a rainbow bear by one of the shops in the square. Emcee has to laugh at that.

"This area was always home to us. To our kind. I have to admit, it's-- it's rather wonderful that it still is."

[runningred]

"Joy endures." Jay smiles, giving the bear a once over. "You've got to admire the rainbow claws."

He grabs a festive flyer from a vendor with a greeting of Happy Pride and offers it to Emcee. "We should check out an event or two while we're here."

[i_am_your_host]

"It's extraordinary how...open these places are," he says, even as something nags at him.

"Ooh!" He grins as he looks over the flyer. "I love a good dance party!"

Naturally!

He looks around at the surrounding neighborhood again.

"You know what," he murmurs, pointing at the building behind the rainbow bear. "This is-- new. I mean, the original building is-- well, it's gone. It's actually a theater and dance hall in my time. They often held wonderful lesbian balls, and parties for gay gentlemen and boys-- not so much anymore, though."

But then he points at another, huge, grand old building across the way. "But at least the Neues Schauspielhaus is still here!"

And it happens to house a gay dance club, where one of the Pride parties is being held tonight.

[runningred]

Jay smiles and follows where Emcee leads, not wanting to interrupt his flow. "Sounds like a good place to party? And theatres always have such great acrostics."

He nods to the grand old building. "What was in there?"

There's another club, a couple of blocks away but Jay is careful not to steer Emcee that way. Careful not to push.

[i_am_your_host]

"It was a cinema when I was a child, and now it's a theater, quite a renowned venue at that. I once saw a production of The Threepenny Opera there."

He then turns to look down one of the streets and sighs.

"And down that way," he says, pointing, "was where the Kit Kat Klub used to be. I'm fairly sure I can use the past tense," he adds with a sad chuckle. "I don't know if I want to see what's taken its place. A McDonald's, perhaps."

[runningred]

"I think B dragged me to see that at the Gotham theatre. Hated opera as a kid but he needed to be seen at charity events."

He shrugs and gives Emcee a little squeeze. "If it is, we'll buy it back and fix it up." He offers complacently.

[i_am_your_host]

"You probably saw a different opera, then," he says, smirking up at him. "Brecht und Weill productions are social commentary for the proletariat masses. I should sing you some of their songs some time. Every wealthy socialite in earshot would be offended."

He then snorts a laugh at Jay's suggestion as they cross the street.

"'We'? What do you mean by that? Remember what I told you, darling, don't say things you don't mean."

[runningred]

"Maybe but I suspect it was something similar. I seem to recall that's pretty much the reaction it got. B thought it was hilarious but he was trying to stay in character."

Jay follows him, glancing over his shoulder to a street he recognises from the last time he was here. He didn't realise the club he spent time at was so close to Emcee's old digs.

"You know me, darling." He says, not entirely lightly. "I don't make promises, or offers I don't intend to carry though on."