Disclaimer: I do not own The Great Gatsby. If i did then i would be a disaster.

A/N: Before reading this story i have to apologize to all the readers who might not like it. This is my first story so any constructive criticism is welcome however, as a weak minded person i hope that everyone will be gentle. Finally the characters may seem out of character but if they are advice would also be welcome. The begining will try and stick as close to the story as possible. And finally, please enjoy the story.^^

Chapter 1

Nick sat in his office and pondered over what had happened yesterday, the day all their lives turned sour.

----flashack----

Nick, Tom, and Jordan drove down to the valley of ashes to meet with Wilson, but when they got there a crowd had gathered around the old repair shop. Even though they were all still outside, they could not miss the mournful wailing of a man that came from within the shop. Cautiously, they got out of Tom's car –they were driving Gatsby's car earlier- and headed towards the shop. Nick turned to gaze at the billboard of Dr. T.J. Eckleburg but spotted a dark stain in the middle of the road. The stain gave him chills and if he looked closely he would have seen small pieces of flesh, but instead he rushed into the shop after Tom and Jordan. Inside, they found the source of the wailing; in the corner, huddled into the fetal position, sat Wilson staring at the dead body of his wife Myrtle, which lay on the table in all her mutilated glory. Tom looked sickened for a moment before glancing at Nick then rushing to Wilson. Nick turned away from the body and headed for the door when he heard a man give a first hand account of the murder.

"Well, there was two cars. One comin', one goin' see?" The man gestured with his hands. The policeman he was talking to nodded in understanding and asked,

"Going where?" The man swallowed before answering.

"One goin' each way. Well she-"he stared at Myrtles body and wiped his hands on his pants in a nervous gesture. "-she ran out there an' the one comin' from N'York knock right into her goin' thirty or forty miles an hour." He then glanced to Wilson and turned to leave, dropping some final words. "It was a yellow car." The click of the door as he left was the only sound other than Wilsons sobbing in the dead silence.

Wilson stood and stared at Tom with menace, screaming, "You don't have to tell me what kind of car it was! I know what car it was!" Tom glared at Wilson and skulked to him, reaching him in three long strides. He picked Wilson up and began to shake him whispering harshly.

"Listen, I just got here a minute ago, from New York. I was bringing you that coupe we've been talking about. That yellow car I was driving this afternoon wasn't mine, do you hear? I haven't seen it all afternoon." Wilson calmed down, turning into a numb shell that stared only at the floor as if his true love was there. The policeman that was questioning the people present suddenly turned towards Tom in suspicion and said,

"What color's your car?" Tom never missing a beat replied calmly, though Nick noticed that his hands were sweaty.

"It's a blue car, a coupe." The policeman eyed him unsatisfied and opened his mouth to question further when Nick added,

"We've come straight from New York." Tom spared a gratuitous glance towards Nick before turning back to Wilson.

----Present----

Nick glanced at the clock checking the time for the six time in four minutes. Bringing his eyes back down to his work, Nick continued to replay the horrid nightmare of a day in his head.

----Flashback----

It was late when Tom brought Jordan and Nick to his house. Realizing that Nick didn't live with him he said that he would go call a taxi and headed inside, but paused a bit to stare back at Jordan who clung to Nicks arm. Unfazed by the entire event, Jordan offered Nick her bed for the night, but he had to fight hard to keep the disgust out of his face while refusing. After he pushed her aside he stood out in the dark waiting for his taxi when a whisper fought its way into his ears. When he turned, he came face to face with Gatsby.

"Nick, was she killed?" Gatsby stared back at Nick in anticipation. Calmly Nick nodded his head.

"Yes." Gatsby cringed.

"I thought so; I told Daisy I thought so. Its better that the shock should all come at once, she stood it pretty well." Nick felt a strange burning envy in his gut knowing that to Gatsby all that mattered was Daisy's reaction.

"How the devil did it happen?" Nick personally didn't think that Gatsby would be so irresponsible as to not stop the car, but he had to hear the truth. Gatsby stared at the house blankly then turned back to Nick.

"Well, I tried to swing the wheel-"he broke off, realizing that he had just given the truth. Nick's eyes widened as everything came to focus. It was Daisy that was driving the car the killed Myrtle.

----present----

After that he left, leaving Gatsby to stare at the house, listening for a ruckus. Though in truth there would be none, for Tom and Daisy were more concerned about escape. Currently, Nick was at his job working on selling bonds. He had seen Gatsby in the morning and told him to jump town but his advice had been refused. Bending his head forward, he leaned into his hand. The mad look Wilson had in his eyes just before Tom, Jordan, and he left was enough to worry even the calmest of souls. He glanced at the clock once more and then reaching a decision, began to pack; he rushed out the door pausing to bid farewell to his manager.

Soon he was at his house. He gave the driver an adequate amount and shouted for him to keep the change while rushing to the hedge that separated his backyard from Gatsby's. As he moved he discarded his briefcase and shed his suit jacket littering them on his yellow speckled front yard. Once he penetrated the hedge, he saw a scene that made his heart freeze. There in the pool was Gatsby, lying like he was soundly asleep, and in the driveway facing in, was Wilson. Nick dashed forward noticing the revolver in the anemic mans hand. A scream tore itself from his throat in his desperation to reach Gatsby in time.

"Jay!" Gatsby startled, turned to face the noise but then fell inelegantly into the pool, creating a large splash with his plunge. Wilson's light blue eyes widened in panic as Gatsby disappeared into the water. Nick, still running forward with his momentum was the next best target. The barrel of the gun focused clumsily onto Nick and then, bang.

Nick felt a tremor run through his entire body but strangely, he didn't feel anything. Slowly, he fell to the floor, numb. With his diminishing vision he saw Wilson raise the gun to his own head with an expression of insane agony then the same blast crashed through the air. With his death, Nick knew that the jarring he felt earlier was the force of a bullet. Ceremoniously, he looked down and stared at the growing red stain on his shirt. Red consumed his vision before it sank to black yet, in his last moment of consciousness he saw Gatsby scramble out of the pool and run towards him with his mouth opening and closing, like that of a fish on land.

When Nick first woke, all he saw was the blinding white of the room. He looked around and noticed the sparse furniture and the large window to his right. He felt tired and sore, wanting to stretch he sat up but then yelled in alarm as a sharp burn spread from his side. Bending forward even farther to cradle his pain, Nick hugged himself. Minutes passed in silent agony until he heard a rather loud clatter at the doorway. When he looked up there stood, Tom.

Tom walked gruffly to Nick holding out his hand, an unfitting gesture for the occasion. Nick stared blandly at the large hand then turned to stare out the hospital window.

"What's the matter, Nick? Do you object to shaking hands with me?" Nick continued to stare out the window, viewing the birds that passed over the small river that ran through the city. The vantage point of the hospital was nice with the fresh breeze easily accessible.

"Yes. You know what I think of you." Tom withdrew his hand and, frustrated, stuffed it into his tight rider pants.

"You're crazy, Nick, crazy as hell. I don't know what's the matter with you." Tom stared at Nick with soft eyes that betrayed his words. Still looking out the window and unable to see his expression, Nick pointed to the door saying,

"Get out." Hurt ran across Toms face. Possessively, Tom grabbed Nicks arm and shook it.

"Nick…I-"Nick yanked his arm back and turned his head to glare straight at Tom. "I know what you did. You told him whose car it was." Tom reared back and seemed to hunch, making his already overbearing form seem even more so.

"He came to the door while we were getting ready to leave and when I sent down word that we weren't in he tried to force his way upstairs. He was crazy enough to kill me if I hadn't told him who owned the car. His hand was on a revolver in his pocket every minute he was in the house---"He broke off defiantly, throwing his arms in the air. "What if I did tell him? That fellow had it coming to him. He threw dust into your eyes just like he did in Daisy's but he was a tough one. He ran over Myrtle like you'd run over a dog and never even stopped his car." Nick sighed heavily, releasing all his tension and remembering his wound.

"That's not true." It was but a mutter nevertheless, Tom still caught his words. Suspiciously, he leaned forward, using his mass to dominate Nick.

"What's not true? He tricked you Nick, and even now he's still doing it." Nick locked eyes with Tom knowing that what he had to say next would hurt the burlesque man.

"Gatsby never ran over Myrtle." Tom's brows furrowed in either anger or confusion; he opened his mouth to protest but Nick continued, ignoring him. "The one who was driving the car was Daisy." Silence followed Nick's statement. It was a fact that cut into Tom's unending confidence of his life, ripping what he saw as right and wrong to shreds. However, like every other classic man, Tom quickly gathered himself back up and remembered his anger.

"Daisy was just confused. She didn't mean it." Nick remembered the conversation that he had with Gatsby the other night regarding the accident and couldn't help but smile at the irony.

"You're sounding a lot like Gatsby right now." Toms waning fury came back like a crashing tide.

"I'm nothing like that Nobody! He hurt everyone I care about! I would never do that." Tom pointed an accusing finger at Nick's stomach. "He got you shot!"

"No, from what I hear you got me shot" Nicks voice was laced with cold malice, making even Tom back up ever so slightly. Tom rushed forward and bend over Nick trying to show is side of the argument.

"If you stayed away from him then you would have been fine. It's all his fault, everything." Their faces were inches apart and Nick suddenly realized that the close proximity made him somewhat nervous. Pushing Tom away, Nick heaved a heavy breath. Slowly he extended his hand towards Tom who in turn, shook it. Relieved somewhat, Tom placed his hand on Nicks shoulder and smiled. "I'll come back and see you later." Nick smiled shallowly.

"I don't think so, old sport." Both Tom and Nick turned their heads to the voice and saw Gatsby, clothed in all his extravagant glory. He walked gracefully to Nick, smiling the smile that rare smile that had a quality of eternal reassurance in it that only came four or five times in life. As Nick sat on the bed staring up at Gatsby's smooth countenance he felt that his smile faced the whole world for and instant, then concentrated on him with irresistible prejudice in his favor. There was a moment between the two, as if they were really the only people in the entire city, much less the hospital.

"What don't you think so."Tom's cruel voice interrupted the peace of the moment. Gatsby's smile vanished, leaving Nick laying there with an immense feeling of loss and longing. Nick almost reached his hand out to capture Gatsby's face but stopped himself from humiliation. Gatsby turned to Tom and with a closed expression.

"You aren't going to be coming back to see him." Then after a pause he added, "Old sport." Tom's face reddened in anger and Nick knew that Gatsby had just said 'old sport' to push his buttons.

"What I do is none of your business." Then Tom leaned forward and again brought his face close to Nicks and said, "Don't worry, I'll come back." His lowered voice was so intimate that Nick couldn't help but blush. It seemed as though Tom had just comforted his lover. Then he straightened and marched out of the room, leaving in his wake a blushing Nick and a stunned Gatsby. A silence settled down, much like the silence between Daisy and Gatsby when they first reunited with each other on that rainy day.

"Thanks." Nick started before he registered what Gatsby had said.

"Thanks for what?" Gatsby leaned forward and placed his hand on Nick's stomach in an intimate gesture. The pain flared slightly but it was already so bad that Nick barely noticed the change. Instead, he focused on the strange actions of both Gatsby and Tom.

"The bullet. The doctor said that the wound wasn't bad and that it was clean." Nick glanced down at his stomach and finally understood that he had been shot. The bullet had well and truly sank deep into his body, creating a hole where there should be none.

"So I was hit."Gatsby straightened up and bent forward awkwardly, ending up at an angle.

"I'm sorry. This is well and truly my fault." Nick gawked down at Gatsby in shock. The proud and securely confident man was bowing in apology. Terrified to some degree Nick held up his hands in slight defense.

"It's alright. If the bullet had hit you instead then…" Unable to say more, Nick audibly shut his mouth. The fact that Gatsby would have died if Nick hadn't been there hung in the air. "You should get home and sleep." The statement was said to a heavy silence but after saying so, Nick saw that Gatsby had unnaturally dark circles under his eyes and his clothes were ever so slightly disheveled. Gatsby nodded and turned to leave but stopped just before the door and said,

"If I can, I'll come tomorrow as well." He turned back to get one last look at Nick but found that once he did, he couldn't turn away. Nick, though hurt, was happy that Gatsby was going to come back. He had some wariness towards Tom and would not enjoy time alone with him. Sinisterly, he was using Gatsby's presence to drive away Tom but then, Gatsby would never realize. Out of his mind, Nick was smiling softly with his heart in his expression. Relief was the main emotion in his face but with the sun streaming onto his bed from behind him, to Gatsby, Nick seemed to come from the very heavens.

"Thanks." And with that one last word, Gatsby left.