"…Oh! …Jay!….Jay! …GATSBY...!"

"…Me and you?"

Daisy looked at him. She hadn't been paying attention to what he was saying. Maybe it was because she wasn't interested, or because they had just finished. She hadn't the slimmest clue. But the man in bed beside her sure treasured to talk to her. She supposed she liked that about him.

Gatsby flashed his smile. He was exposed under those blankets, but they were draped over him, so it pretty much covered his torso. But he didn't care. Daisy Buchanan could appreciate all of him. He loved her, and she had the independence to do anything she liked with him. He was hers, and he was hers! A thousand times over! They were meant to be!

He looked at his soft sheets and bed ware. From his bed he could see out his balcony and from there his land which held all his riches. His mansion, pool and his garden, patterned with neon lights that lit up the dark and green fresh grass like a Christmas tree. From there, he looked to the sky and beyond to see the light. The lighthouse, the green light emanated from it, and for a second he forgot where he was. It absorbed his soul and mind, for a whole moment. He'd stroll to his golden front gate some nights, just to look at it in more depth, in hopes that it would guide him to his future and even further than that. The green light reflected in his eyes, making them shine even livelier. His trance was broken from noise by his side, where the one he loved was amused.

She laughed in a fairness Gatsby couldn't quite describe. Her pretty lips curved into her smile, which to him, made her even more flawless.

"Jay, we couldn't possibly do it again. Far too late and we haven't got the fairest time."

Gatsby would have said something to object, because he hadn't asked anything like that, but there was a knocking on the other side of the room, at least four yards away to the door. That got his attention, but it seemed that in the short time he was distracted, Daisy was already halfway dressed and out of his bed.

"Come in then." Daisy ordered, tying the black ribbon closed on Gatsby's silk robe. It fit her well, she noted. The man was petite, another flaw in his form. She'd have to talk to him of it some other time. The butler entered the bedroom as informed, and she wasted no time in making the suited waiter service her. "Yes…I want a brandy. Get Jay a platter, would you?"

"Yes ma 'dam." The butler said, his black suit was spotless and lint free, except for a small red splotch under his right breast from an accident at the earlier party. But in the circumstances, it wasn't noted. "Your husband called ma 'dam."

"Oh, well then forget the platter. Just toss me the brandy and I'll surely be on my way."

The butler nodded to her, and Daisy went on with dressing, the butler turned to his actual boss, and man of the house. "Anything for you Mr. Gatsby?"

"No…I'm quite alright, old sport."

"You're positive sir?"

"Yes…quite alright, thank you." Gatsby told him and the servant went off to get the alcohol. He watched her slip off his robe and the fabric slid down her pale back. She was wearing bra and underwear, but he couldn't help but see her naked under the small pieces of clothing. She picked up her clothes off the floor and began to slide them on. He watched them glide up her skin as they were pulled on, and he wished the fabric was his own skin. Again. "Drinking so early?" He asked her.

Daisy spared him a glance. "Well, I figure if I go home not all there, he will spare me questions."

"Do you have to go?" It was a stupid question, he knew. But he had to ask, not for her, but for himself. He never wanted her to leave him.

"He'll worry that I've-"

"Why don't you leave him already?" Gatsby blinked. The inquiry came out so suddenly that he couldn't stop it. But he didn't dare desire to take it back.

Daisy didn't see what to say. She had hoped this conversation wouldn't resurface by her coming here. Forlornly, it had.

Gatsby looked down, and decided he should continue with his opinions now before he could be stopped. "This house…Is it respectable for you? I could enhance more items if you-"

"Gatsby." Daisy snapped, losing her usual calm composure, making the man jump at her tone. "Leave it alone. I don't want to hear any more of it tonight." She scolded him, just finishing putting on the last piece of clothing she came with.

The butler came back then, an open bottle and a filled glass in hand.

Daisy took the glass from his hand as she walked past him, turning it up to her lips and downing it as if it were a shot. "Come along. I would like as many a glass as I can before I'm to the car."

"Right away ma 'dam." The butler said as he tried to keep pace with her to the door, spilling some of the bottle as the woman stopped abruptly in front of the door.

Daisy turned to Gatsby, solemnly staring at his pitiful, naked, form in the lone bed before finally leaving, the butler close behind her.

Gatsby heard the footsteps leave down the grand stairs, and the front door close, and then he was in complete silence for a few more moments. He heard the start of a car engine. That's when he was reactant to the world around him again. He threw off the covers, wrapped the sheet around his mid-section and ran to his balcony. By the time he got there, the car was already pulling off of his property. And there she went, off and out of his life again. Her headlights disappeared from sight and he watched in the direction she went, as if his hopes and his loneliness could once again bring her back to him.

"Mr. Gatsby, would you mind a drink, sir?"

"No…" Gatsby told the returning servant. "I'm alright, old sport, I-" His gaze was now glued to the bottle. There was barely any left of it when it had been full just instants before. "Tell me, does alcohol help to forget?"

The butler didn't understand his superior's reasoning, but his job was to answer nonetheless. "In some cases, but I wouldn't worry too much about that-"

"My clothes, old sport."

"Oh yes, right away." His butler said and hurried to fetch the articles.

Gatsby remained by the balcony, staring up at the night sky, searching it for something.

"Here you are." The butler walked back to him soon after. "Remarkable shirt and pants for a remarkable young ma-"

"What is it I'm doing wrong do you think, old sport?"

"Why, nothing sir. You are the Great Gatsb-"

"I know who I am! And I'm afraid that is the problem!" Gatsby cried. "It's because of who I am that I can't be who I want to be! …Old sport, look at me. There must be something wrong. There has to be!"

The butler didn't know what to say, so he didn't say anything.

This inadvertently proved Gatsby's point and with a despaired cry, he pushed past the butler and ran down the beautiful staircase and through the main room, it still in shambles from the night's party. He ran for the detailed front door, and pushed through that as well. He ran through his garden, ignoring the sparkling lights and as fast as he could towards his pool until he could no longer run another acre. He collapsed centimeters in front of the pool, gasping and breathing. He could hear some servants calling after him, and two that were still cleaning up, came after him. They halted a few feet away, panting from chasing Gatsby all this way.

Gatsby saw himself in the reflection of the pool. Angry, he bat at it with his hand, anything to get it away. The water rippled for a second before the reflection was back once again, now more perfect. And the lights in the garden abruptly shut off, their reflection now leaving Gatsby's reflection unaccompanied in the water. He turned at the hand on his shoulder, looking up at the butler that followed him all the way down here to his yard's end. "I'm so tired, old sport…" He whimpered and connected eyes with his reflection. "It was me…It was always me…"