Walking up through the rows of tombstones, plaques, and grasses was Daisy Buchanan. It was a dark day, weeks after the actual funeral. She knew it was only due to Tom, he'd told her everything. His blame of Gatsby on the death of Myrtle, his urging Wilson toward revenge. It was only then when she snapped and told him that it was no one's fault but hers, that she'd deliberately turned back and run into Myrtle, her mind a haze of hate, despair, and betrayal that made it impossible to think clearly. She'd regretted her actions, staying holed up in her room for days, even going as far as to take out the only bottle of liquor she owned and drink long from it, trying to drown out the intense feeling of guilt that swarmed her. Tom had barged up to her the day she emerged from her room, brandishing a stack of divorce papers. She'd only felt a drop of pain at this, now sure that she did not love the man that had stood before her, but the man buried six feet under dark soil.

Spotting the golden lettering on the polished stone, she stepped forward, taking a deep breath as she gazed, her eyes skimming over the newly placed stone and the replaced earth just below it. Her lower lip shook as she fidgeted with the dark dress she wore, a hat atop her head with a veil of black lace laying before her eyes. Even with the lace, she could still read the two main words clearly engraved in the stone. The stone was etched with the name 'Jay Gatsby', even though his father had protested. It was the name everyone knew him by; the name she knew him by.

Taking yet another breath, her lip shaking worse than before as she started to speak, "I'm such a fool, Jay. If I'd known, I'd have come the day of, but Tom had planned an outing the week before, and we've been gone for weeks," she said to the dark stone, her lovely voice floating out on the winds that had begun to blow. She didn't even feel the cold, the pain inside her masking all ability to feel anything but internal agony. "I-I told him, you hear? I told him that it wasn't anyone's fault but mine. I saw a pain, betrayal flash over his stern face just then, and I ended up secluding myself to my room after that. Just as I'd stepped out, days later and in a horrible state, he drove a stack of papers in my hand, a pen in the other. Do you know what they were? Divorce papers. Divorce papers, Jay!" screamed the distraught Daisy, her voice crackling in the wind. She stopped a moment and closed her eyes, trying to calm herself. Opening them again, she continued, "I wasn't very much shocked at him, so much, but the idea that I was getting divorced. It was moments later, after that minute of shock, that I realized. I didn't love him as I'd once thought. He was a despicable man, Jay. Absolutely so. I was a fool to be with him."

It was only then that the first tear fell, and moments after did the first droplet of rain hit her hat. She felt it only slightly, the tears that fell having gathered on her lashes and absorbed her make-up, those droplets leaving trails of black on her pale cheeks. She stood there for a while, letting the blackened tears mix with the clear droplets of the rain. It was almost as if the universe was in mourning for the man who was the great Gatsby, and it had waited for the woman that loved him most. Through her blurry, mournful haze, she made her eyes focus on the letters on the stone and spoke again, her voice crackling occasionally. "Do you remember the letter you sent me before? I had received it on my wedding day. My heart, oh, the foolish thing, was conflicted. I was to be married that day, and it wanted to run off to you. It was yours that day, Jay; I know that to be fact now. I'd gotten truly and dreadfully trashed that day, my dainty hand curled white around a booze neck. I told them - I told them I changed my mind! I told them and they pushed me through with it! I had been holding your letter when they pushed me into a cold bath, and the paper wettened and fell apart in clumps. Seeing that had made me sob harder than I had been before, and even before I had been in a dreadful state! I-I regret it. I regret marrying that monster, Jay, though I do not regret the child that came about. Lovely little fool, she is," she told the stone, a smile lighting her sad features for a moment. It fell quickly, however, and she went back to telling him, "She is the one fortunate thing that resulted from sharing a life with him."

A clap of thunder sounded, followed by a flash of lightning. That flash brought light to the stone, the words glistening brightly for a moment, and with that, she broke, falling to her knees before the darkened, grassless mound. Her head bowed forward and she let out a wail, freezing and soaked to the bone but unable to feel any of it. "Jay, you - you beautiful fool! What a fool you are! Allowing me to leave you all those years before, and now leaving me in the same position!" she screamed, still bowed over forward and sobbing.

Daisy stayed that way for a while, curled forward and sobbing openly, the words beautiful fool sliding from her shaking lips several times during her bout of sobs. She moved then, reaching for her purse and opening it with a click. She pulled two objects from it, both of which significant to the both of them. Leaning, she lay a single white daisy - slightly crushed - and a small, green lightbulb against the polished black stone, and stood. She stared at the stone for a moment, sniffling. It was then that she felt herself enveloped in a strange, otherworldly warmth, and she unconsciously leaned into it. She allowed herself to think that this might be Gatsby, returning her affections from beyond, and she smiled as she felt the warmth curl around her like a hug, and warm her cold, blacklined cheeks as if it - he - was holding her, wiping at her cheeks and murmuring, Don't cry, my dearest Daisy; her knees shaking as she let it warm her for a moment. She stayed that way for an unknown amount of time, before the warmth left her suddenly. Though she still missed him, and she was still pained, she felt better. That otherworldly experience had left her with the knowledge that he loved her too, and that all her pain was not in vain. With a last look at the polished stone, she turned and walked back toward the cemetery entrance, a brightness back in her eyes and a smile on her lips.

As she walked away, a figure materialized within mists near the stone marked with his name, and with his eyes following the beautiful, delicate figure of Daisy Buchanan, the spirit of Jay Gatsby leaned and - with concentration - he materialized just enough to gather up the daisy and the light. Sending a smile toward the retreating figure of the woman he loved, Gatsby bowed his head and turned away, disappearing into the mists once more.