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 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.

[runningred]

Jay reaches out to steady the box, letting Emcee rummage safely. And to make sure his hands aren't shaking visibly.

The barman laughs softly. "Yeah, I've tried making a few of those cocktails. They've been pretty popular."

[i_am_your_host]

"Well, you can't beat an original classic." They're classics now, aren't they? It's a strange and...somewhat depressing feeling. Still, some things must endure.

Emcee carefully unfolds what turns out to be piano sheet music. The paper is brittle and in danger of crumbling in his hands, so he treats them as delicately as if they were flower petals.

"Oh my god," he mumbles under his breath. He recognizes the handwritten notations in pencil as Herman's. Unmistakable.

He then realizes that he's staring silently at it for too long. And he clears his throat.

"It's-- it's just astonishing that this music still survived," he says.

Did Herman survive? The question strikes him hard. Seeing this now, he has to make sure that he does survive. One way or another.

[runningred]

The barman smiles. "Makes me wish I could play. Or that we still had something to play it on." The piano's long gone.

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee had noticed that there wasn't a piano, much less the one that the Kit Kat Klub orchestra used. What bar or club doesn't even have a piano? It's sad.

"If you ask me, whoever runs this club should invest in a piano. It isn't natural to not have one," he says a bit wryly, as he carefully folds up the sheet music.

Only the photographs are left. He wonders if he's in any of them. He can't let the barman see, so he flips through them without lingering, as much as he wants to. There seem to be more images from a later time, faces he doesn't know. But at the bottom of the pile, Emcee finds--

"The girls. Some of them, at least."

Emcee exhales a breath. Helga, Lulu, and Rosie, posing on top of the bar, all lacy knickers and stockings. With an almost proud smile, he holds the fragile photo up to show Jay and the barman.

[runningred]

Jay smiles warmly, a supportive arm around Emcee's waist.

The barman smiles and shrugs. "I'm glad someone appreciates them. Look, I gotta get back to work but... if you guys are still around, maybe I'll see you at one of the parties? Some of us are hoping to get into Wonderland tonight."

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee gently slips the photo back in almost the others and puts the lid back on the box.

"Wonderland?" he says. It takes a second before he realizes why it sounds familiar, and he pulls the invitation from Alice out of his pocket. Wonderland, reads the address.

"Oh, luckily we've managed to get a pass. Perhaps I can get you in. It's the least I can do for you for giving me this." He pats the box.

[runningred]

The barman grins. "I'd like that. Thanks." He slips past them towards the door, someone calling inside for him to hurry up. "Hopefully I'll see you there."

[i_am_your_host]

"You will," Emcee says as he raises a hand in a wave.

When the barman is gone, Emcee lets out a long breath and sinks back against the wall.

This whole sequence of events had been more emotionally taxing than he expected.

[runningred]

Jay leans over him, a hand resting on the brick either side of Emcee's shoulders. From the outside it might look quite threatening but Jay's instinctively moved to block everything else out, to create a private, protected space for Emcee.

[i_am_your_host]

And Emcee appreciates it. A lot.

Closing his eyes for a moment, he exhales another sigh that's a bit shaky.

"I'm sorry, I just need a little time to process things. It's not exactly easy to see everything that's a part of your life condensed into one shoe box."

[runningred]

"Nothing to be sorry for." Jay promises, brushing the back of his fingers over Emcee's cheek.

"Look, I've got us a place to crash not too far away. If you want to slow down for a little bit?"

[i_am_your_host]

"You do?" he says, raising his eyes with a grateful look. "Yes, please, let's. Thank you. I'll be all right to go on tonight, but yes, slowing down sounds like an excellent idea right about now."

He stands up a little straighter, his back still against the wall. Touching Jay's cheek, he gives him a light kiss on the lips.

[runningred]

Jay nods, returning the kiss just as softly.

He steps into the street, flagging down a cab. The place isn't far away but Emcee looks like he could do with being out of the street sooner rather than later.

He puts an arm around Emcee in the cab after giving the address, pulling him close.

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee tucks the precious shoe box under his arm and follows Jay to the street.

After settling down in the backseat of the cab, he leans his head against Jay's shoulder. Letting his mind go blank, feeling numb.

It's overwhelming. But he keeps telling himself that all of this is important.

[runningred]

Jay doesn't talk on the way there. He just holds Emcee close, stroking his arm softly.

They pull up outside the back of an art deco building, Jay fishes a swipecard out of his wallet and opens a nondescript door. It leads into a hallway and an elevator. Jay swipes again to summon the elevator, holding Emcee against him.

The hallway is clean but welcoming, decorated with 20s and 30s movie posters.

[i_am_your_host]

Emcee figures that this is one of Jay's residences for when he does...business abroad.

The posters surprise him, though. It's a very specific kind of decor. The ones of Charlie Chaplin and Douglas Fairbanks and Greta Garbo make him smile as they pass them.

With a sigh, he leans against Jay as they wait for the elevator.