Disclaimer: I do not own "The Great Gatsby." I do, however, know where to find music by a musical group that stole their name from this book. A/N Um… Firelight Quest readers who see this… don't get upset. I wrote this as extra-credit for my English class instead of finishing my update. I'm mostly done with that update, but am rewriting most of it because… I feel like it. Now, on to the English assignment.

Dreams of Glass

At first, she had only imagined he was there.

She would pretend to look out her window and there he'd be. Flowers in hand and a smile on his face, his attention for her only. In this dream world, he wore the same suit he'd worn on the day that everything had fallen apart; it still complemented him.

Flying down the hall, she would feel as though she couldn't reach him fast enough. Her imagination never let her miss him, though. He was always waiting for her.

"I told you," he'd say; "I said I'd wait for you, didn't I? You're my girl, love."

"I made a terrible mistake," she would say. "I shouldn't have left you for him. Are you angry with me?"

"Of course not. I'll always be there for you."

Then they'd get in the car and drive to town. They'd have the loveliest time.

And then Tom would yell or Pammy would come running in from school. Daisy would open her eyes, slowly in order to linger over the dream of Jay, and return to life.

----

"You said Sandy Gables was the last!" Daisy exclaimed, uncharacteristically angered.

"Sweetheart…"

"But you said the same about Angelica and Caitlin and Merete and all the dozens before them! Why should I have believed you, especially when you'd already hired Elizabeth? I am not a fool; I know you think I am." Daisy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I should've gone with Gatsby when I had the chance."

Tom had been calm 'till that last. With no hesitation, he slapped her at the sound of Gatsby's name. "Don't you ever…"

"My hypocrite husband, yes, please, tell me how to act!"

Daisy whirled around, her hair snapping with the violent force. She threw the door open and darted out, swinging it shut behind her. The muffled cursing behind her brought a smile to her face; the door must have hit Tom on the nose.

----

It slowly became harder to pull away from the dream.

Sometimes she would close her eyes for a mere second and hear his voice. He was dead; she knew that. Yet she knew that his voice was there.

Daisy would be sitting in a chair, waiting for Tom so that they could go to a restaurant, and suddenly Gatsby would be standing just behind her. He'd ask her about her day and tell her about how much he loved her. He'd tell her Pammy was a wonderful child. Daisy knew better than to turn and look at her love, though.

He was never there when she looked. It was only with her eyes shut that she could see him.

It didn't seem like her imagination anymore; she felt as though now it was Gatsby reaching out to her. He'd heard the call and now he was making the connection.

----

Daisy watched, dispassionately, as Tom raced around the first floor. His hand was clenched to his nose as he tried to stop the bleeding. Anger barely began to describe his emotions, if his raving was any indication.

"Daisy, love?"

Her eyes flickered shut and she turned around slowly. There he stood. "Oh… Jay… You're here!" She tossed her arms around him and, for a moment, it felt as though he was really there in her arms. His form flickered and her arms fell back to her sides.

"Mom?"

Daisy opened her eyes and smiled at Pammy. The young girl stood at the far end of the hallway, an unreadable expression seeming out of place on her pixie-like features.

"Mom, why is Dad so mad?"

----

It wasn't long before Gatsby was taking her places. He'd lead from behind; escorting her by direction to beautiful places in both the country and the city. She had to drive, though, and had required a considerable amount of convincing for their first excursion.

The lake was gorgeous; she'd never needed convincing again.

She could only talk to him on their drives. To see him, her eyes would've been closed and she'd sworn never to be reckless in a car again. That had caused three deaths; she'd never let that happen again.

Tom had been suspicious, at first, but the private investigator swore that Daisy was forever alone. She pitied the man for not being able to see Gatsby; after all, she wasn't really alone anymore.

----

"He hurt himself on the door, precious. Blessed precious, go back to sleep. He'll calm down soon; you know how he is," Daisy trilled softly, walking to her child. "Come now, let's get you back into your room."

"Yes mother…" Pammy hesitated, as if searching for the words to say. Her youthful eyes should've been warning enough; no child should have that much fear inside.

Daisy, with her eyes wide open, didn't see.

"Would you like me to tell you a story?"

"I haven't needed stories for a long time, mother." Pammy fell into step with Daisy anyway. "He doesn't love you anymore. I can tell."

"Of course he loves me. He's just upset. I love him too."

Pammy walked past her mother and into her bedroom. "If you say so. I… I worry about you. Good night. I love you, mother…" The door swung shut softy.

"Worry about me? Isn't it the mother's job to worry?" Daisy muttered to the empty hall that echoed with Tom's rage.

"You should never worry," he said.

Daisy jumped in surprise and then, with eyes firmly shut, she turned to face Gatsby. "If you don't want me to worry, I promise not to."

----

Slightly over a week after they began traveling together, Jay surprised Daisy in the most spectacular of ways. He gave her a massage.

She didn't know how it happened; out of nowhere, Gatsby had gained the power of touch. He began holding her hand, giving her hugs, holding her when she was sad…

He seemed to be returning to her.

And now… he held her hand and led her up the steps and through the doors of her house. "It's time, my love," he whispered in her ear.

Eyes firmly shut, Daisy nodded at his smiling face. "Time for what?"

"You'll know…"

----

The Buchanan's house was four stories tall with an attic doubling as the top floor. There was a widow's walk wrapped around the eastern section of the house and a lighthouse sparkled in the distance. The stars were bright, but the air was cold enough to give Daisy second thoughts about following Gatsby.

"Don't hesitate, Daisy. It's time." He tugged her into the open air and then moved behind her.

She smiled and settled into his warmth as he wrapped his arms around her. "This is lovely, Jay. Is there something out there that you want me to see?"

"I want us to be together, you know," he said instead. "Would you like to fly?"

"Fly?" she repeated, not struggling as he brought her to the railing.

"Fly," he confirmed. "Anyone can fly. Wings only make it seem harder than it is."

"Jay, you aren't making sense," Daisy considered opening her eyes and then closed them even more tightly.

"Then just let me guide you. Do you trust me?"

"Always."

The dream was almost complete. Gatsby leapt over the railing and Daisy moved with him. As they fell, a scream pierced the air and Daisy looked up at the house.

Pammy's wide eyes watched in horror. Gatsby wasn't there.

The dream shattered… and then so did Daisy.

A/N That was fun to write. Not that I enjoyed killing off Daisy or anything… looks around nervously I simply delight in tormenting the psyches of the characters. It's entertaining… for the authoress me (, that is.