Part XI: Into the Past

"...He'll show me the way there

I can see the light

But in the darkness

I'll follow you..."

~ "Into the Past" - Nero

Rebecca Gatsby looked around the library in horror. Books were torn up, tables smashed and overturned and furniture destroyed. Upon arriving home from spending the night with Matthew, Rebecca had found her household in uproar even though it was late in the evening. Gatsby had destroyed the library and had yelled at anyone who had tried to approach him. He'd even thrown a vase at one of the poor parlor maids who'd come up with some warm water to tend to his bloody and bruised hands.

Rebecca had always known that Gatsby had anger in him. There were rumors that he husband had killed a man once and she'd always ignored those words but looking around the room made her wonder if the person who had started the rumor was right. Everything was destroyed and she'd never admitted it to Gatsby but the library was one of the few rooms in the house that she actually liked the decorations in. Holding the silver tray that the tearful maid Patsy had given her, Rebecca spotted the spiral staircase in the corner and walked towards it. The winding metal steps led up to what the staff called 'the tower'. Rebecca simply thought of it as Gatsby's space. He often retreated up the steps when he wanted to be left alone and she'd never followed him up the steps.

Walking up them quickly, every thought in her head floated away as she looked at Gatsby. He looked like he hadn't slept in days and exhaustion was consuming his body. A blank expression was across his face but his eyes were so sad. It was feeling that Rebecca knew so well. The startling realization that they had practically switched places nearly caused her to fall. She was finding joy while Gatsby was beginning to sink into a depression. Rebecca was torn between being sympathetic while at the same time feeling like Gatsby had gotten exactly what he deserved. The small table next to Gatsby was still intact and Rebecca walked slowly towards it. Setting the silver tray she was carrying down on its smooth surface, Rebecca looked down to see that her husband wasn't looking at her. Instead, Gatsby's gaze was fixed on the green light that was still blinking ever faithfully in the dark.

Slowly sinking to floor in front of Gatsby, Rebecca ignored the light and picked up the box of matches from the silver tray. The gas lamp that was on the small table came to a flicker life as she lit it. Giving some light to the otherwise dark room helped her to see. In the light, Gatsby looked even worse than he had in the shadows of the green light. He hadn't shaved and his hair was tussled. The man who normally looked impeccable to her was a complete mess. Shoving aside any worry, Rebecca looked to see that a blanket was covering his lap.

"Jay…let me see your hands," she asked him softly as she continued to knelled in front of the chair he was slumped in. Slowly, Gatsby pushed the blanket that was covering his lap back to reveal his bloody and bruised hands. A small gasp escaped her lips as she stared at his hands. She'd been expecting his hands to be bad but she hadn't been prepared to see them completely black and blue with bruises. Dried blood was on his knuckles and even some fresh blood reflected between his fingers. Rebecca could even see some shards of glass embedded in his skin. His hands were swollen and looked painful. Reaching her hands out slowly, Rebecca took one hand of his broken hands in hers and frowned sadly when Gatsby took in a sharp breath and winced.

"Why didn't you tell anyone about your hands?" Rebecca demanded softly, "You could have a broken bone or something. You have glass in your skin not to mention how painful this must be."

"I like the pain."

Rebecca's head shot up when she heard his hoarse voice. Gatsby had rested his head back against the back of the wingback chair with his eyes closed. He looked so tired that Rebecca didn't have it in her heart to chastise him anymore about his hands. She couldn't even bring herself to be angry about the destroyed library or anything. Grabbing a linen cloth that had been on the tray, Rebecca dipped it into the warm water before ringing it out. Slowly and methodically she cleaned up his hands and removed the few pieces of glass in his hands. It took her nearly two hours but she finally had rid Gatsby of the blood and had bandaged his bruised hands.

At some point, Gatsby had fallen asleep and Rebecca watched him realizing that in the three years she'd been married to the man before her, it was the first time she'd even seen him sleeping. His dark blond hair fell a little in his face and that once familiar feeling in her chest grew despite Rebecca's urgent desire that it stop. Watching Gatsby sleep, her heart picked up a beat or two and fluttered. His was a handsome man and it ached that she was so aware of it. Gatsby looked years younger when he was asleep and his boyish looks only added to his attractiveness. Impulsively, Rebecca grabbed another blanket nearby and draped it over the front of Gatsby. Tucking the blanket under Gatsby chin felt as natural. It scared Rebecca so much that she quickly stood up and moved away from Gatsby as quickly as she could.

Just being around him was bringing feeling to the surface that she wasn't prepared to deal with. As horrible as it was, Rebecca hoped that losing Daisy was create even more distance between them. Daisy had been her cover when she was with Matthew. Now that Daisy was gone, Gatsby would want to know where she was at night or why she was gone for so long. With Daisy in the picture, Rebecca hadn't been in his mind. Now Daisy was gone and Rebecca hoped that Gatsby would continue to think about Mrs. Buchanan. If his attention became directed towards her and Gatsby found out about Matthew, Rebecca had no idea what Gatsby's reaction would be and it frightened her. She guessed that if Gatsby found out about Matthew, he'd make serial killers like sane.

Looking over her shoulder one last time before she descended the spiral staircase, Rebecca watched as Gatsby slept. The shadows of the gas lamp playing on his face and the walls around them and for a brief moment, Rebecca wondered if in another life they could ever be happy together. As quick as the thought had come it was pushed away. She'd learned long ago that the 'what-ifs' of life helped no one and it was always a long, painful road to go down. There had been enough pain in her life that Rebecca knew that adding more wasn't a good idea. She didn't know how much more pain she could ever take before that pain consumed her very life.

Descending the staircase, Rebecca came face to face with Crawley. The old butler looked tired in his eyes but one would have never guessed from how the man stood with a ridged straight spine and his hands clasped together behind his back.

"I trust Mr. Gatsby is well ma'am," Crawley said in his gravelly voice.

"He's asleep," Rebecca said quietly, "I'm off to bed. Have someone check on him though out the night though. Wake me if anything happens with him and in the morning, we'll send for a doctor to look at his hands. Also, please send Tilly up to run a bath. Goodnight Mr. Crawley."

"Goodnight ma'am," the old butler nodded as Rebecca walked past him.

Three Months Later…

Wednesday…May 7, 1923…

No one was more surprised than Nick when he opened his front door in the early evening to see Jay Gatsby on the other side. Gatsby looked like he'd lost some weight but he didn't look as exhausted as he had when Nick had seen him briefly in late March. Rebecca had been worried about Gatsby and had begged Nick to come see him. Nick had gone wondering if his visit to Gatsby would do more harm than good. They'd sat together for nearly four hours and said nothing. When one of the maids had come with a dinner tray, Gatsby had eaten all the food and had asked for more. Nick wasn't sure what he'd done that day but Rebecca had given him steady reports that Gatsby was getting better according to Mr. Crawley and Gatsby's valet, Mrs. Blackburn. Nick hadn't heard a word from Gatsby since the night in the library and he'd always assumed that his friendship with Gatsby was over. Having believed that for so long, Nick wondered if he'd been incorrect about everything. He couldn't understand why Gatsby was on his porch.

"Evening old sport," Gatsby said in his melodic voice which was just the same as it ever had been, "Would you mind terribly if I came in to have a word with you?"

Nick quickly opened the door with a smile. If Gatsby wanted to talk to him, Nick was more than happy to listen. Rebecca had told him that Gatsby hadn't said a single word to her since she'd cleaned his hands up in the library. She'd brushed it off but Nick knew that beyond her mask she was worried and even if she threw herself into all her charities and organizations, she couldn't hide her worry. Her worry made Nick firmly believe that Rebecca still cared for Gatsby. She was simply hurt and looking for love with another man. Nick couldn't fault her but he didn't approve either. It wasn't his place to say anything to Gatsby but Nick wonder if his friend would turn a blind eye like Rebecca had done to him. Matthew would eventually go back to England and the affair would end just like Gatsby's affair with Daisy.

"Of course," Nick said, "Would you like some tea?"

"No thank you old sport," Gatsby replied as he walked into the house and down the hall to the living room. Nick closed the door behind him and followed Gatsby. The cozy living room was peaceful and Nick watched with interest as Gatsby stood staring out the windows to the old Buchanan Manor. Sitting down, Nick crossed his legs knowing that Gatsby wouldn't talk until he was ready to. After nearly an hour of silence, Nick cleared his throat.

"Jay?"

"I don't understand it," Gatsby said quickly, "I don't understand why she left. I thought I did everything right. I thought I made myself worthy enough to be the man she wanted me to be. I built her a house and filled it with beautiful things. I gave her anything I could with in my power. Was it not enough? I just don't understand."

Nick leaned back in his chair and sighed, "It's nothing you did."

"How do you know that?" Gatsby snapped as he turned around and looked at Nick.

"Because I know my cousin Jay…she and Buchanan are perfect for each other. He's a brute and she's a spoiled little girl who has a deep rooted need for affection. It doesn't matter who gives her the affection as long as she gets it. Why do you think she married Tom? He lavished gifts on her and she forgot you the minute he started buying her things. I'm sorry Jay but my cousin never loved you. She loved that you loved her. I don't think Daisy is capable of love."

Gatsby moved away from the window and sat down on the couch.

"My cousin and Tom use people," Nick continued, "They're selfish and cruel. Whether or not they know it, I don't care. The only people they care about are themselves. You're not the first man to fall prey to my cousin nor will you be the last. When Daisy and Tom are done using people they retreat away into their vast wealth and empty lives. You and I will never understand why they do it. I've been trying for many years to understand but I haven't understood and never will. It's just who they are Gatsby. You can't change Daisy no matter what. Trying to live up to the impossible standards she sets and giving her everything she wants won't win you her love. She'll love the man who gives her the most material things. Tom is taking her on a trip to Paris and the minute he told her that…she forgot got you again Jay. Why would you want to be with that kind of woman? She doesn't love you. She doesn't deserve you."

"I can't seem to help feel like a fool," Gatsby whispered.

"You fell in love with a woman but that woman isn't my cousin. With time, Daisy will fade from your memory. You'll forget her like she forgot you and it will be nothing like but a beautiful nightmare."

"I don't want to forget her. I want to remember everything because I want to remember what it feels like to be taken advantage of by a beautiful woman," Gatsby told him, "I don't want to make the same mistake twice. Daisy was so beautiful and kind. Every room she walked into…her smile lit up. She could make you feel like the only man in the room with a simple glance at you. There was just something about her…this passion for life and a thirst for it. She was like a rare diamond. Sparkling and perfect…she could forgive but she was always so honest with me. She liked to laugh and read…she was as smart as she was beautiful and she did everything with enthusiasm. Her kisses could make a man weak in the knees."

For the second time, something inside Nick snapped as he watched Gatsby carefully. He'd just described someone Nick knew well…Rebecca.

The woman who claimed she was incapable of love but Nick didn't believe it. She wasn't the kind of woman to marry someone she didn't have genuine feelings for. The fact that she had begged him to speak to Gatsby proved just how much she cared. She tried to bury those feelings deep inside and lied to herself that she wasn't using Matthew to cover those feelings up. She cared for Matthew, that was true but there had been a powerful driving force behind her when she'd married Gatsby. Nick refused to believe that it was gone. He simply believed that Rebecca spent her whole being trying to repress that force so she wouldn't be hurt again by her husband.

Nick knew Gatsby wouldn't have married Rebecca if there wasn't something more than business behind his feelings too. He'd married Rebecca even though he'd vowed to marry only Daisy. He had to have some feelings buried deep with in him. Those powerful feelings had allowed him to push aside his dreams for a brief moment and marry a woman who wasn't Daisy. It couldn't have simply been lost to time. Nick refused to believe that no part of Gatsby cared for Rebecca in some way. He described her very person when he described Daisy. There had to be something there even if it was faint. It made Nick only wonder if Gatsby had fallen in love with Rebecca at some point and only transferred how he perceived Rebecca to be to his image of Daisy. It was possible but now that Gatsby had finally accepted the truth about Daisy, he still couldn't see what was in front of his very eyes. The woman he thought Daisy was described the woman he married.

Even Elizabeth had agreed with him that Gatsby and Rebecca were so well suited for each other. Only they couldn't see it. They were both blinded by their own anger, hurt and grief. Clarity hit Nick again as he knew what he had to do. He had to show Gatsby that just because Daisy wasn't what he thought she was it didn't mean that the woman he loved wasn't there. He could put Gatsby on the right path but ultimately it would be Gatsby who would have to work to fix what had been broken. It would take time and energy but he would prove to Gatsby that Rebecca was the image of Daisy that he loved. He only hoped that he wasn't too late for both of them to realize there feelings.

"Why did you marry Rebecca?" Nick questioned, "You've always left that part out and I'm curious to know why you married her knowing full well that you supposedly loved Daisy and wanted to marry her."

"I didn't marry her because I loved her," Gatsby said quietly, "I married her for business."

Nick shook his head, "Daisy doesn't deserve you and you don't deserve Rebecca. It's a simple question Jay. If all you married Rebecca for was business…I pity her and you. You've spent months in this self-pity and depression. Life must go on Jay. It's time to forget about Daisy and move on."

Gatsby stood up quickly, "I'm going to be late to dinner. I'll show myself out old sport. Have a good evening."

Friday

May 9, 1923

Gatsby stared down from the library window at the gardens. Nick's words had been floating in his head since Wednesday and it was bothersome. He hadn't been able to accomplish much work and Gatsby had given up. He'd worked all morning but his mind kept drifting. He'd tried to return his mind to work after lunch but his mind still was cooperating. The veil of self-pity that had covered his eyes for months had been lifted but unsettled business still plagued his mind. Even though he knew the truth about Daisy, Gatsby was still unsure about other parts of his life.

Why had he married Rebecca?

It was the only answer Gatsby hadn't been able to answer satisfactory when Nick had asked. His own thoughts swirled around as he tried to answer the question for himself. His instinctive answer had been business but Gatsby knew it went deeper than that. He could have picked any girl out of New York society to marry. So why had he picked Rebecca? The question had kept him up awake the past few night as the many memories of his time with Rebecca had passed through his mind. He wanted an answer to Nick's question and he wanted an answer that he believed was satisfactory and truthful.

Standing at the window, he could see his own wife walking around the gardens with a book in her hand. She stopped and reached out to touch a rose petal and the soft breeze outside blew against her soft pink muslin dress. She picked the rose bud and held it cupped her hand as she walked on. Watching her walk around the garden, Gatsby was keenly aware of another time he'd watched her before.

He could remember that first time he'd watched her. It had been after the Great War had ended and he'd been in New York for almost a year. He'd already begun to make millions with Wolfsheim and business had been booming. He'd been at a party when Wolfsheim had pointed her out as the perfect candidate for their scheme. He could still remember the first time he'd stood on a balcony watching her from below…

…Friday…November 15, 1919…

Twenty nine year old Gatsby stood with his hands clasped behind his back as he watched the dancing on the dance floor below him. He stared at the many people wondering if they all knew what he did for a living. His education as a gentleman had only helped his business in ways that he couldn't imagine. His behavior as a gentleman opened doors to him that would have never been opened otherwise. His partnership with Meyer Wolfsheim was prosperous and was making him thousands and thousands of dollars.

People all over New York marveled at who he was. His mysteriousness only added to his appeal as he slowly bought the city. His status as a gentleman was solidifying in New York Society but Meyer had wanted more solidification. He wanted Gatsby to marry one of the daughters of the highest members of society. At first, it had seemed like an impossible task but fate had been working in their favor according to Wolfsheim.

Watching the fair haired woman dancing with Theodore Rimes, Gatsby couldn't lie and say that she wasn't attractive. At nineteen, Rebecca Harper was undoubtedly a beautiful woman. Her soft blonde curls were done in a stylish hairdo and a hair band that glittered with precious stones tied in a ribbon at the base of her neck. The diamonds, pearls and topaz of the black hairband twinkled in the light and matched the dark dress she wore. Snow white gloves encased her petite hands as she waltzed around with Rimes.

Even from afar, Gatsby could tell she was slender woman. The top of her head would barely reach his shoulder and he could probably wrap his hands around her slender waist. She was the woman Wolfsheim had pointed out in the earlier and the more he stared at her, the more she reminded him of Daisy with her blonde hair and soft smiles.

According to Wolfsheim, the beautiful woman was the oldest daughter of Edward and Katherine Harper. Rebecca Harper was the oldest sister of the now shamed Mary Harper. Rumors circled wildly around about the middle Harper daughter and the child she was pregnant with. Speculations hadn't ceased as to who the father of the child was and Wolfsheim had grinned when he'd told him that the Harper family was looking to marry their eldest daughter off quickly to conceal the scandal that Mary had created.

Rebecca Harper was the daughter that Edward and Katherine were so desperate to get rid of and the more Gatsby thought about it from a business stand point, the more ideal the plan became. Rebecca Harper could open doors for him that no one else could and in return, his wealth and New York's love for him would soothe the hurt that had happened to the Harper family. Wolfsheim was brilliant but Gatsby hated the brilliant plan.

Watching as the dance came to an end, Gatsby picked up a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and watched Theodore Rimes escort Rebecca Harper off the dance floor. Rimes picked up two glasses of champagne from a waiter also and handed a glass to Miss Harper. The girl smiled and thanked him as Gatsby shook his head. He didn't want anyone but Daisy and when Wolfsheim asked him what he thought of the plan, Gatsby knew he'd put his foot down and tell Wolfsheim his answer was no…

Leaning an arm against the window frame, Gatsby continued to watch Rebecca as she sat down on a blanket and read. Her beauty hadn't diminished since the first time he'd saw her that night. With time, she'd only become more attractive and it shocked him that he admitted that. Her hips had rounded out by the time he'd married her and any childhood fat had slipped away from her figure leaving a stunning woman in its wake. She'd taken to wearing her signature red lips stick and it often reminded Gatsby of the Grimm Brother's Snow White. Her lips were as red as blood and her skin was as pale as snow.

There was no denying that Rebecca was a very attractive woman. A man would have to be blind, deaf and dumb not to see her beauty. Wolfsheim often took pleasure in reminding him plenty of times that half the men in New York would probably kill him to get the opportunity to be in bed with such a beautiful woman like Rebecca. Her fully, pouty lips were like sin and sky blue eyes could ensnare a man's soul. It would be a complete lie if Gatsby were honest with himself that he hadn't once thought about Rebecca's body. He was only a man and he even he could admit that her long legs, supple hips, tiny waist and firm breast beckoned him at some point. But those thoughts had only existed before he'd married her. Those thoughts had existed when he'd first started paying calls to her. He'd been keenly aware of her body and youthfulness then and if Mary was anything like Rebecca…he could have easily seen why any man would be captivated by the Harper sisters.

Gatsby could still remember the soft pink dress she'd worn the first time he'd met her. The deep 'v' cut of the dress had shown off just enough cleavage to keep her dress respectable but she showed enough to keep a man's blood hot and wondering what lay beneath the silky fabric of the evening gown. Her hair had been pulled back into a soft hairdo where it was gathered at the base of her neck in some kind of elaborate style. Around her swan like neck had been a strand of pearls and diamond earrings had rested against her delicate ear lobes. Just looking at her had been distracting and Gatsby was sure it was a memory he'd never forget for as long as he lived…

…Saturday…December 15, 1919…

Gatsby was sure she had no idea how absolutely ensnaring she was to a man's senses. He'd spent the last month thinking over Wolfsheim's proposal and in the end, Gatsby could see no other way out of it. He'd agreed to marry Rebecca Harper but the moment Daisy came back into his life and he convinced her to be with him, Gatsby would leave Rebecca Harper. It was his final plan and nothing would change it. Rebecca might become his wife in the eyes of the law and church but she was never truly going to be his 'wife' in any sense of the word. He wasn't going to bed her and he sure as hell was going to have any children with her. Daisy was the only woman he wanted in his bed and she would be only woman birthing his children.

Oh, Rebecca Harper would become Rebecca Gatsby but it all stopped there. Rebecca would be like a beautiful piece of artwork. She'd be his hostess and companion on the nights he needed her but beyond that it would be nothing more. Getting her to marry him would be the hard part of the plan though. Gatsby would have to charm her and family but he knew that if he just imagined her as Daisy the whole time, it would make everything easier.

Watching her laugh at whatever had happened on stage, Gatsby could see the similar beauty she shared with Daisy and was grateful that his love and Rebecca Harper looked almost alike. As the curtains fell for the second act of the show, Gatsby stood up in his box and tugged his dinner jacket down so that it laid against his body correctly. Smoothing his hair back, Gatsby left the box quickly hoping to see Rebecca when everyone left their boxes for refreshments and to socialize. Going to the great hall that was the place where people congregated, Gatsby slowly worked his ways through the throngs of people greeting business associates, city officials and friends alike.

He finally spotted her speaking with a female companion. She was even more beautiful in the lights of the hall. Slowly approaching the two women, Gatsby watched as the girl Rebecca had been talking to slipped away into the crowd leaving her alone. Seeing his chance, Gatsby walked a little quicker and reached her before anyone else could.

"You're the most distracting woman I've ever had the pleasure of seeing," her told her with one of his rare smiles as she looked at him with amusement.

"Am I?" Rebecca smiled back at him. "I've been called a great many things but never that. I do hope it's not a bad thing sir."

"Not at all," Gatsby said as he took her hand in his. He pressed a soft kiss to her snow white glove, "In all my travels I've never met a more enchanting woman than you. I can barely pay any attention to the show."

Her head fell back as she laughed and once she'd recovered herself, Rebecca shook her head.

"You are the most charming man I've ever met. You're words are like a very sweet dessert. A dessert that is far too rich," she said. The lady could see through his charms and a genuine smile came to Gatsby's lips. She wasn't as unintelligent as he'd thought.

"Am I Mr. Jay Gatsby," he told her quietly, "What might your name be?"

"Rebecca," she said as a soft blush came to her cheeks, "Miss Rebecca Harper, Mr. Gatsby."

"The pleasure of making your acquaintance is all mine, Miss Harper."

He still hadn't let go her hand and gave it a soft squeeze, "Am I correct to assume that this opera is one of your favorites?"

A soft smile returned to Rebecca's face as she nodded, "Yes. I do love it dearly."

"Well, then I shall forever be grateful to the composer for if he had not written it, I wouldn't have had the opportunity to see such a beautiful angel laughing."

The soft blush that had graced her cheeks returned and Gatsby found that he quite suddenly enjoyed making her blush. There was something about it that he liked. She looked down at her feet quickly before looking up and down at the crowds below the box they were standing in.

"May I call on you Miss Harper at a later date?"

Her eyes quickly went to his and the way she bit her bottom lip brought a heat to Gatsby body that he hadn't felt since Daisy. He noticed how full her lips were and images of all the things a man could do with those lips flooded his mind.

"Of course."

The two minute warning bell rang and people below them began to make their way back to their respective seats as did the people in the boxes around them.

"Till then," Gatsby whispered as he pressed another kiss to her hand before gently letting go and walking away without a backward glance…

She hadn't been like anything he'd ever expected her to be. Rebecca turned out to be something completely different than what he'd thought she'd ever be. He'd been expecting someone who could barely hold an intelligent conversation and cared for vanity more than anything else. Rebecca had been a pleasant surprise in that the first time he'd called on her, he'd found her reading Voltaire. They'd had a lively debate in her mother's parlor about the philosopher and he was sure they'd shocked poor Mrs. Harper.

Rebecca was witty and teased him but all in good nature. She loved to hear him laugh and she equal loved to laugh also. Each visit, outing or party they went to, Gatsby learned something knew about her. She liked music more than arithmetic and enjoyed reading above all else. It didn't have to be any subject as long as she could read it. Her French was awful and her German even worse. She was far more proficient in schooling than she would ever be in needlework and she preferred live performances to all the new technology coming out that could make people move on camera.

Gatsby had filed away each piece of information all the while keeping Daisy in the back of his head. She had been the goal he had been constantly working towards and he'd hoped that the time that she'd forgive him for marrying. With each passing day, Gatsby had forgotten Daisy a little more until he scared himself beyond anything he'd ever experienced…

…Tuesday…March 23, 1920...

Her gloved hand was in the crook of his elbow as they walked down a cleared path in central park. The air was a bit chilly but Gatsby knew they wouldn't be out long. In the few months that he'd been seeing Rebecca Harper he'd come to care for her. He cared for her well-being and he didn't want her becoming ill because of him.

"And the house is finished?" Rebecca asked him as they slowly walked, "Is it to your satisfaction?"

"Yes," he replied as he covered her hand with his, "It has come together exactly as I imagined it would in my head."

"Excellent!" Rebecca exclaimed happily and it made Gatsby laugh. In everything she did, Rebecca had an enthusiasm for life that he enjoyed. Stopping and looking down at her, Gatsby was stuck by how her lips looked soft. Parted, her lips enchanted him and Gatsby couldn't help but wonder what their softness would feel like against his own lips. They had stopped walking but the way she was looking at him was making it hard for him to keep his urges in check. Unconsciously, his hand slipped around her waist and he pulled her close. Her body fit perfectly against his and the friction of the fabric between them didn't help his arousal. Her perfume surrounded his senses and he couldn't quite figure out what it was. Whatever it was, it was just as entrancing as her lips.

"So will you?" she asked him with a smile that wasn't completely innocent.

"Will I what?" Gatsby asked her as his head dipped lower towards her.

"Show me," Rebecca breathed, "Your completed gardens. I dearly love roses."

At the mention of roses, Gatsby felt his whole body stiffen. Roses were Daisy's favorite flower. She compared everyone she loved to a rose. Horror swept through Gatsby as he realized that he'd been slowly forgetting Daisy. He'd stopped thinking about her and wondering where she was and what she was doing. He'd become so ensnared in Rebecca that he'd lost sight of his goal. His remorse stung and he quickly pulled away from Rebecca before he could kiss her.

"Of course," he said stiffly, "I'm sure Elizabeth would like to come as well."

Rebecca looked at him with a confused look but the look couldn't even compare to the confusion Gatsby felt on the inside…

That day had truly left him so confused that it had taken weeks to feel normal again. Nearly kissing Rebecca had left him in an emotional wind storm that he couldn't have even begun to understand. Looking back now, Gatsby could see that what he'd been feeling was only natural feelings. She was a woman and he was a man. To feel desire was to be human and standing in that park he'd desired Rebecca. He'd felt that tug low in his navel when she'd looked up at him. But looking back again, Gatsby also knew he hadn't been ready. He hadn't been ready for those feelings. Early in his relationship with Rebecca, he'd been so wrapped up in Daisy that he'd barely been able to see straight. Having spent the past few months in a tunnel of self-pity, Gatsby was finally beginning to see the light and upon closer inspection, he could see the truth behind Nick's many warnings. He could see how Daisy had used him. He was scared to wonder if she'd ever really loved him. He'd done so much for her and had barely gotten anything in return.

That day in the park, Gatsby hadn't kissed Rebecca because of Daisy. He'd promised himself that the only kissed he'd ever give her was the one he had to perform at the end of their marriage ceremony to make her his wife. Beyond that, he hadn't planned to ever kiss her. Nearly kissing her in the park had scared and shocked him because he'd forgotten Daisy. For a brief, single moment he'd almost forgotten Daisy and kissed another woman.

That day in the park had been a turning point for both of them. Gatsby knew that Rebecca was falling in love with him. He could see the love sick girl in her smiles and eyes. She lit up when he was around and she always wanted to be with him. He knew that she thought she'd hidden it so well throughout the years but he'd always known that she'd fallen in love with him. The love he'd felt for Daisy had been the only thing that had prevented him from exploring his feelings for Rebecca. That day had only solidified Rebecca's feelings for him but the events had left Gatsby in far more confusion then he'd ever felt. Instead of speaking of his feelings to anyone, Gatsby had done the only thing he could think of at the time, he distanced himself. He still paid calls to Rebecca but he kept his distance emotionally and physically…

…Saturday…April 27, 1920…

The ring in Gatsby's pocket felt heavy. Heavier than anything he'd ever carried before. He'd always imagined Daisy would be the woman he'd propose to but it wasn't going to be. She'd already married Tom Buchanan and the name left a sour taste in his mouth.

Rebecca's hand rested lightly on his arm as they walked through the gardens of his newly built estate but her hand felt like a weight on the sleeve of his coat. She looked pretty in a soft blue dress and she was probably the most beautiful woman in his home easily but she wasn't who he wanted. He wanted Daisy and even though Gatsby knew in the back of his mind that Daisy would someday be his, Gatsby couldn't help but feel impatient. The whole business of marrying Rebecca Harper was leaving him with a sick feeling that he couldn't shake.

Pushing his feelings away, Gatsby reminded himself that everything he was doing was for Daisy. The future he was building for her required sacrifice and if that sacrifice was marrying Rebecca Harper than he would do it. He would do whatever he had to do to give Daisy the future she deserved.

"I have a question for you," he said quietly as he stopped in the middle of the stone path.

"Oh?" Rebecca asked looking confused as she looked up at him, "Is everything alright?"

Gatsby gave her a tight smile as he nodded yes, "My question is more personal in nature."

Reaching into his pocket, he slipped out the black velvet box and pressed it into Rebecca's waiting hands.

"I was hoping you'll say yes."

He watched as Rebecca lifted the lid and gasped in shock.

"Are you asking me to marry you?" Rebecca asked in shock as she looked up from the ring to him and back at the ring again.

"Say yes," Gatsby whispered softy. He wasn't even able to ask her to marry him. That would be too much for him. That would be asking too much of him and Gatsby wasn't even sure if the words would be able to come off his lips.

"Yes!" Rebecca exclaimed happily as she took the ring out of the case and slipped it on, "Oh! It's so beautiful! It's so perfect!"

Her arms quickly wrapped around his neck and the weight of her thin body nearly knocked him off his feet. Gatsby held her close as Rebecca hugged him tightly. He felt her soft, smooth lips against his cheek and just for a moment he left the feeling of her in his arms take him over. Her perfume invaded his senses and the cheek she'd just kissed tingled. Her body was warm against him and she was light. Just for a moment Gatsby let himself be lost in the moment.

Rebecca pulled away from him and broke the moment. Her eyes were full of excitement and they glittered joyfully in the soft, fading light of the evening. Reality came crashing back to Gatsby as he stared at the woman who had just accepted his proposal for marriage. He'd been silently praying that it wouldn't be Rebecca's face that he saw but Daisy's.

"I shall be the envy of everyone in New York," Rebecca declared with a laugh, "Wait till my parent's see this beautiful ring! I can't believe you remember that I loved this one. It's so perfect!"

Rebecca didn't give him a chance to respond as she grabbed his hand and began walking back to the house. With each step, Gatsby felt the noose become tighter and tighter around his neck. There was no backing out now and he could only pray that Daisy understood everything he did was for her. No love existed between him and Rebecca nor did he care for her. Everything was simple business transaction. A feeling of relief also passed over Gatsby with each step too. He had secured Rebecca's hand in marriage and he didn't have to play the part of enamored suitor anymore…

Gatsby closed his eyes as the memory faded away. That day had only been the beginning. In the months leading up to their marriage, he'd had become increasing distant to her. Rebecca had tried to include him in their wedding planning but he'd ignored her. He only showed just enough attention to keep her parents convinced that he was serious about marrying their daughter but beyond that he did the bare minimum. His reasoning had been that he'd already convinced her to marry him, he didn't need to do anymore. So, the flower had stopped coming to her house and his calls had become less and less frequent. Every time she asked him if he was alright, Gatsby would lie and wave his hand. He always came up about something involving business but Gatsby had known the truth deep down.

He felt like a traitor as he had prepared to marry Rebecca. He'd vowed to Daisy that he'd come back and marry her but he wasn't…

…Sunday….August 7, 1920…

The floors were dark, polished wood covered by various Persian rugs. The walls were a neutral color with molding at the top of the high ceilings. Two large windows were opened to let the warm summer air in. The deep, heavy red curtains that were pulled back with gold tassels fluttered a little in the wind but Gatsby barely noticed as he stood in front of a full length mirror. He stood still as he let his valet dress him. Blackburn ran his lint catcher over the seams of his morning suit as Wolfsheim walked around the room staring at various paintings that lined the walls of the large dressing room that doubled as a reception room in his private quarters.

"I don't know what you're so nervous about," Wolfsheim chortled as he held the tumbler glass full of brandy to his lips, "Do you have any idea how many men would kill to be in your shoes. Wealth and marrying a beautiful woman…the American dream indeed my friend."

Gatsby didn't say anything because no words could form on his lips. He felt like a man being led to his death. This wasn't how he'd ever intended his wedding day to turn out. He'd always anticipated Daisy being the woman walking to him down the aisle but it wasn't going to be her this time.

He felt sick to his stomach as Blackburn buttoned his vest. Gatsby felt like a traitor deep down and even though he knew the logic behind the reason why he was marrying Rebecca, it didn't ease the feelings he had deep down. Gatsby hadn't even realized that Blackburn had finished buttoning the vest until the valet had opened a medium sized case that contained various fob watches in different makes and metals.

"Sir?" Blackburn asked with a blank face that convinced both men in the room that Blackburn had no opinion about which watch was picked.

"The silver one," Gatsby murmured as he pointed to the simple silver fob watched that he'd bought in London.

"You're not getting cold feet are you?"

Hearing Wolfsheim's words, Gatsby looked up at his business partner and shook his head as Blackburn retrieved the specific watch and began placing it on Gatsby's vest

"No," Gatsby answered calmly while he held out his arms to let Blackburn work, "Why would you think that?"

"You look like a man who's about to run," Wolfsheim grinned.

"I'm not running Meyer. I know what an asset marrying Rebecca Harper will be. Don't worry so much. She'll be an asset to us and I'll see to it that we have every wealthy man in your pockets in no time."

Meyer grinned even more and his gold tooth shined in the morning light that poured into the airy room.

"That's my boy!"

Gatsby merely smiled and tried not to lose the contents of his stomach as he thought about Daisy and what she would think if she could see him getting prepared to marry another woman…

…Gatsby opened his eyes as the final memory finished playing in his head.

"I'm no better than Buchanan," he whispered quietly to himself in the empty library. The realization was haunting but accurate. He was no better than Buchanan because he'd used Rebecca and toyed with her just like Buchanan had used and toyed with Mary. Granted, there were differences between what had happened but the bottom line was that he'd used Rebecca.

He'd made her fall in love with him and then he'd cruelly ripped out the rug from underneath her. He'd given her hope about their future together. She'd told him how she'd love children and a happy home. She also told him about how she wanted to see Paris and other cities in Europe. She'd confided in him every failure, every hope and dream all for nothing it seemed. He'd been so caught up in Daisy and loving Daisy and trying to create the perfect life for her, that he'd forgotten the one woman who he'd made his wife.

Gatsby felt his failure deep inside. He'd married Rebecca letting her dream and hope of a wonderfully bright future and they hadn't even been married a day when he'd smashed them. Watching her below in the gardens was painful. She'd placed so much faith in him and he hadn't given her anything. Yes, she had nice things and place to live but he'd never truly invited her into his life. He'd told her not to change anything and took away any opportunity for her to ever feel like she was at home with him. He'd denied her attempts early on in their marriage to spend time together or anything like that. He'd built up walls between them and eventually she'd given up. She'd resigned herself to him and he couldn't help but wonder if she still dreamed of a family or travelling.

Had he killed everything inside her but her beating heart?

Watching her turn the page of the book, Gatsby knew he had his answer for Nick and it answer he didn't like. He'd married Rebecca for all the wrong reasons. He'd led her on and crushed her as hard as he could all for the sake of one woman whom he believed to be the love of his life. He'd always be grateful to Daisy because she'd given him the determination to become the gentleman he wanted to be but he wasn't a worthy gentleman. He wasn't worthy of the house he lived in or the cars he drove. He wasn't worthy of the money he made nor was he worthy of the parties he through. Most of all, Gatsby knew he wasn't worthy enough for a woman like Rebecca. He wasn't worthy of the generosity she'd shown him the night he'd destroyed the library. Nor was he worthy any other of the times that she'd been kind to him.

Shame filled him as he thought about how he'd brought Daisy into his house and the humiliation Rebecca had suffered at his hands. He wasn't worthy enough to call himself her husband and it made him feel sick with the knowledge of what he'd done to her. In that single moment, Gatsby vowed to himself that he would change.

He'd make himself worthy of Rebecca and maybe he could gain her friendship. It was the first step in mending the burnt bridges he'd created with her and it was the only way he could ever get over Daisy. He had to move on with his life because Daisy was the past. She was a beautiful nightmare of the past but mourning her couldn't be his future. He'd destroy himself trying to be what he thought Daisy wanted him to be and it would leave him a hollow man. Nick had been right on so many occasions when he'd tried to tell him that Daisy was vain, spoiled and childish.

With a new found clarity Gatsby could see his life and Daisy. The harsh light of reality shone and it wasn't how Gatsby ever picture his life being. The woman he supposedly loved a complete fraud and his personal life in shambles. Closing his eyes and resting his forehead against the glass, Gatsby let out a long breath. The green light hadn't been his future. It had been his past and for the first time, he could feel a willingness pass over him that he'd never felt before. He was ready to let go of Daisy and move on. All he needed was the courage to step off the path that he'd mapped out for himself and let fate decide how his life was really meant to be.

Rebecca read the letter that was between the pages of the book she carried with trepidation. It was written in Matthew's neat handwriting and its content was overwhelming but it was also the reason why he'd been so distant lately. He was apparently seeing one of the top fertility specialists in the world about his infertility and the doctor had discovered that the problem was quite simple. A quick procedure would correct the issue and he'd be able to father children if the surgery was a success.

It left her with the feelings of elation and fear. She was so happy for him that he might be able to have the children that he so desperately wanted. Rebecca knew that Matthew would make a wonderful father to some child someday and now he would have that opportunity. Fear also filled her heart because she was terrified of something happening to him during the procedure. Matthew's letter had assured her many times that there wasn't a thing to worry about but she couldn't help but worry. He was so dear to her heart that the thought of something happening to him was almost too much to bear.

His operation was happening even as she read the letter and she cursed him for not telling her about. She would be with him if could but Matthew hadn't wanted her to be there. She understood his fears of someone finding out about their affair and tarnishing her name but at that moment she didn't care. He was having something life altering done and she wanted to be there with him.

Folding the letter back up, Rebecca tried to focus on the words in front of her but nothing helped. Closing the book and standing, she walked slowly back to the house. She had been so focused on what was happening in her mind that she hadn't been paying attention to where she'd been going. Her body collided with another person's but warm, strong arms grabbed her before she could fall.

Looking up, Gatsby's clear blue eyes met her and every fiber of her being was aware of his warm hands on her. That same electrical feeling traveled through her body like it did every time he touched her. She'd never experienced that feeling with Matthew. It seemed Gatsby was the only person who could produce the feeling inside her.

"Are you alright?" he asked her awkwardly as he slowly let go of her.

"I'm fine," she said as her skin tingled from where he'd touched her, "Thank you."

Clutching her book to her chest, Rebecca wasn't sure what else to say. Gatsby almost always walked off after they'd had their short exchanges but this time he wasn't leaving like he normally did. Instead, his hands were awkwardly at his sides and he looked just as confused as she.

"Well…I have a few things to do before the end of the day," she finally said after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence.

"Of course," Gatsby replied as he stepped to the side so she could pass him, "I have to go see Nick. He had a question and I have an answer for him."

"Send Nick my regards," Rebecca said before walking past Gatsby. She wanted to go up to her rooms and avoid him as much as she possibly could till tomorrow when she'd go see Matthew. She was almost halfway up the grand stair case when Gatsby spoke.

"Mrs. Gatsby," he said quietly.

Rebecca faltered in her steps unsure if she'd heard him correctly. Even if one spoke quietly, voices echoed off the walls and could be heard. Gatsby cleared his throat and she turned to looked at him. Dressed in a navy suit with a navy vest and gold tie, the thought struck Rebecca that Gatsby looked well. Something about him was different. For the first time in three months he looked sober and put together. With his hands in his pocket, Gatsby walked towards her till he was at the base of the steps. He looked up her and Rebecca couldn't control the small flutter in her heart.

She could lie to herself all she wanted but she knew that when it came to Gatsby, she'd always feel the sizzle of attraction. She'd felt the same sizzle of attraction since she was nineteen and it had never lessened. As Gatsby slowly walked up the steps she couldn't help but scold herself for thinking about Gatsby in such away. He'd hurt her and had slept with Daisy Buchanan on plenty of occasions. He'd brought the whore into her home and rubbed it in her face. It wasn't something she was sure she could ever forgive. She'd told Nick the truth when she'd said that she wasn't sure what she'd felt for Gatsby. She wasn't sure if she ever loved him or if she loved the idea of him. Rebecca wasn't even sure what love was and all she knew was that Gatsby had hurt her.

The closer he got, the more her heart fluttered and when he stopped two steps away from her she breathed in. The smell of his sandalwood and lemon soap filled her senses and pushed any thoughts out of her head that were coherent. She couldn't truly remember the last time he'd been so close to her and touched her. The only night she could think of had been the night in the library but that didn't count. Gatsby had been exhausted and had said nothing to her the day afterward. She'd received no thank you or acknowledgement of what had happened. Gatsby pulled a hand out of his pocket and rested it on the railing. His fingertips nearly touched her and the wild beating of her heart began again.

"Mrs. Gatsby will you be a dinner tonight?" he asked her quietly and his words nearly stopped her heart.

Never in the whole three years had he ever called her 'Mrs. Gatsby'. He'd always called her dear or Rebecca but never anything else. Any words that could have formed in her mind faded. It was all she could do to nod 'yes' that she would be at dinner.

A gentle smile came to Gatsby lips, "Would you play for me after dinner? I haven't heard you play the piano in a very long time."

"If you wish," Rebecca said hoarsely after she finally found her voice.

"Thank you…I'm most grateful to you for agreeing. I'll see you at dinner then. I don't want to keep Nick waiting. Have a good rest of the day and if you need anything don't hesitate to ask."

Gatsby turned and walked back down the steps leaving Rebecca feeling like she'd been hit by a hurricane of emotion. She couldn't remember the last time he'd been so kind to her. Normally he simply ignored her but for him to ask her to play…he hadn't asked her to play for him since she'd become engaged to marry him. Her knees felt weak under her as she clench the railing tightly. She wasn't sure if she was more shocked or suspicious.

Rebecca couldn't help but wonder if he was after something and she couldn't help but feel so confused about what had just happened between them.

Gatsby pounded on Nick door quickly. He had an answer for Nick and he didn't have much time till dinner. The door opened and without preamble, Gatsby walked into the house and went straight to the living room. The brief, confused look that Nick gave him was ignored. Nick closed the door behind him and walked to the living room with the same puzzled look on his face that Gatsby had seen before.

"Is everything okay Jay?"

"Ask me what you asked me Wednesday," he said quickly, "Quickly old sport!"

Nick stared at Gatsby hard as he sat on his chair in the cozy little living room still looking confused.

"Alright…why did you marry her?" Nick challenged, "If you never loved Rebecca why did you marry her?"

Gatsby was silent as he rested his forearm against the window and stared out at the bay. His mind was reeling as he thought about what had made him marry Rebecca. He had first approached her because of business but in the months he'd spent paying visits and courting her, something had changed and it had scared him. Whatever had changed had scared him so much so that he'd pulled away from her as much as he could when they'd become engaged. Looking back, Gatsby could see clearly why he'd pulled away. Rebecca had reminded him so much of what he thought Daisy was like that it had hurt. The more time he spent with her, the more he'd grown to like her and it had terrified him. His only solution had been to put distance between them and it had worked for a while. Now, Gatsby felt like the distance between them was as wide as an ocean.

"I married Rebecca for business," Gatsby finally said quietly, "I married her because I like her."

Nick's eyebrows rouse in astonishment, "You like Rebecca?"

Gatsby looked at his fob watch again and quickly put it away in his vest pocket. He didn't want to be late to dinner. In fact, Gatsby wanted to be early. For once he didn't want to keep Rebecca waiting or wondering where he was or who he was with. He'd spent most of his day reliving memories and combing through them carefully. Everything finally made sense in his life and now that he could see Daisy for what she really was, he could see Rebecca for what she truly was too.

A good woman who deserved a good husband and he was willing to try as hard as he could to be that good husband for her. If he ever wanted to move off from Daisy he had to start being a better person and husband sooner, not later.

"I must go," Gatsby said quickly as he left Nick in a confused state. Nick stared at him like he was crazy and in truth, Gatsby did feel crazy. He felt wildly confused and unsure of himself but at the same time, he felt like he was ready to try and move on from Daisy.