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]

Emcee snorts a laugh, squeezing his arm.

"Me neither, darling, it's such a mystery to me," he says wryly.

"Now, where were we before I got distracted by the sex toys? --Ah, yes."

Though the street has changed significantly, he still clings to some hope that a spark of recognition will be enough. He's actually afraid that he won't recognize where the Kit Kat Klub was at all, and that they'll walk right past it without even knowing it.

There's a bar up ahead with outdoor seating. Old-fashioned cabaret-style chairs and little round tables. There's no marquee or lights, but the black awning declares in an art deco font: Die Katze und Maus. The Cat and Mouse.

Emcee can't help the soft gasp that escapes him.

[runningred]

Jay doesn't get the connection, not knowing Eric's pet name for Emcee. But he knows Emcee must have found it, found home.

He moves to wrap his arms around Emcee from behind, resting his head on Emcee's shoulder. He doesn't push him, he knows this must be hard.

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee clasps his hands over Jay's, for a moment rooted to the spot.

Yes, it's home. The building itself hasn't changed, still old-world blocky with vaguely gothic moulding that's the only visual clue of what this place was.

They're standing by the mouth of an alley. Emcee looks up, following the fire escapes to the sixth floor, the topmost storey, and he points to the dark window at the corner.

"That's my flat," he says with a hollow chuckle. "The air that wafts up there in the middle of summer is delightful."

[runningred]

Jay gives him a little squeeze. "We could go up, if you like? Ask whoever's there now if we can have a look around."

[i_am_your_host]

"God, no, that would be strange," he snorts. "I'll probably just end up being jealous of their modern living conditions. They might even have their own bathroom."

He takes a breath and pats his arm.

"Lets just see how the bar is doing. I'm-- ready. I think."

[runningred]

"Yeah, but think of the space they would have lost putting it in." Jay tries to joke, keeping him close till he's ready.

He nods and kisses Emcee's cheek. "I'm right here with you." He assures softly, before stepping forward to open the door.

[i_am_your_host]

He smirks. "They probably had to knock a wall down...into the next door flat."

It really was a tiny apartment.

Stepping toward the open door, he runs a hand over the back of one of the chairs. Is it a relic or a reproduction? It seems as if that question can be applied to a lot of things once they're inside.

"Well, fuck, they've nearly gutted it," Emcee mutters.

Everything is done in gray and black, with minimalist seating -- block-shaped ottomans and love seats, leather upholstered booths, a scattering of clustered cabaret tables and chairs. Emcee goes to the bar, which is at least still as he knows it. He looks up at the mezzanine, and instead of open rails, the upstairs area seems to have been converted into private party rooms.

"The stage."

Emcee makes his way through the mostly empty room (for at least this time of day).

"They've ripped up the floorboards and cut it in half. I liked those old floorboards. They made you feel like you were...well, on a fucking stage."

[runningred]

Jay stays close, letting Emcee vent, letting him cope. "Yeah, can't say it's my kind of place. Too... soulless."

[i_am_your_host]

The low-key trance music thumping through the speakers doesn't help to create any sort of atmosphere either.

Emcee sighs, turning a slow circle to take it all in. What there is of it.

"If only these walls could talk," he murmurs wistfully.

"Do you want a drink while we're here? The place might look halfway decent if we're tipsy."

[runningred]

"Sometimes it's better when the wall keep their secrets." Jay shrugs. "A drink sounds good. And it might be better with more people here. It is still early for the party crowd, I guess."

[i_am_your_host]

"These walls always had secrets. But you're right. Perhaps it's better that I don't know."

He starts heading toward the bar, glancing over the patrons present.

"This is what I like to call tourist hour," he mutters wryly in Jay's ear. "They come in too early for anything, even happy hour."

[runningred]

"Or that they keep yours." Jay smiles. "Wouldn't do to have to walls greeting you like an old friend just to confuse everyone."

Jay chuckles. "Yeah, I can see that. But then, I'm the tourist here."

[i_am_your_host]

"That's a very good point," he chuckles. "Though I'm sure these walls know me well enough to keep their mouth shut." He jokingly glares around at said walls.

"Actually I think we're both tourists..."

The big, bearded bartender greets them with a jovial smile. "Good afternoon! What can I get you two?" he says in German with a Berlin accent that Emcee is glad to hear.

"Gin, please. And let's get him something very German, shall we?" Emcee replies with a little poke at Jay's arm.

[runningred]

"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.

[i_am_your_host]

"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.

[runningred]

"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_am_your_host]

"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."

[runningred]

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

[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.