Author's Note: I…think I'm coming back to this most elegant fandom. Thanks to listening to the movie album. Gosh I love it. Sorry for the wait. Review? I might be just a touch off key…

~Natty.

Within.

~T.G.G~

The night had passed by in short terms. I had drifted in and out of sleep thinking over and over of what I had witnessed. I'd never seen Gatsby like that before. He was so frustrated and full of hate, so unlike his usual calm and collected demeanor.

I questioned who the violence was for, since he only ever seemed to do things to fit others instead of himself. Who had made him so furious? I never knew such could lurk inside of a man like him.

That's probably because of my illusion that he was perfect and had not a flaw. It had been slipping lately, even more than usual and now more than ever. I admit I still didn't really know Mr. Gatsby all that well. We talked over tea and it's been a few weeks since the reuniting with Daisy yet she had called the other day to say he had been avoiding her. That was something I highly doubted.

If Daisy was his whole world then why was he constantly blowing off their dates and meetings? She had wanted me to see if something was wrong or, and in her own words: 'God forbid, what if he's found someone else? Oh Nicky please you must see about him! You know how you men can be…You forget the simplest things…'

I doubted that he'd ever forget about her. Something else must have been troubling him which I can now see quite blatantly. Something was troubling Gatsby and even though it really wasn't any of my business and I hardly knew the man, I was a bit worried for him as well.

During these past few weeks I now recall that Gatsby had been acting off the entire time. He was more hasty and distracted. I'd hardly seen him. It was then that I realized he was avoiding me too and everyone.

Was it right to pry in my neighbors issues? That never stopped me before. I guess I could pry a little. It couldn't hurt and maybe I could offer him my assistance if he even wanted it. He most likely wouldn't but he'd never turned me down on any of my suggestions before. In fact whenever I suggested something he jumped through hoops to make it possible. I had been joking once and he took me as serious as if I was god himself giving him a commandment. He had actually gotten Klipspringer into the pool, more like made the man get into it. I apologized to the pianist until Mr. Gatsby had ushered me away to make me stop. I had been drinking that evening I remember so my apologies were more mumbled and red-faced anyway.

It was just before noon when I finally decided that my wandering mind wouldn't let me rest on my day off. It's not like I could sleep the whole day anyway.

Gatsby and I were to ride in his hydroplane today. So after about an hour I was mid-knock at his front door when it precipitously opened, and there was Gatsby. I hadn't even completed saying half of a greeting before he hurried past me. He both respectfully and rapidly apologized for any inconveniences he was throwing upon me, just as fast as his words that rocketed out of his mouth with such a stride. I was barely able to get an explanation out of him, what with not being able to hear him as the distance between us grew while he rushed away from me.

I caught some of his words and was able to make some sense of them. He said he had to go to town, he had to go to town, almost insisting the words to himself, and he apologized again and again until he all but scrambled into his car, barely closing the door before speeding away, leaving me alone to ponder on the steps what exactly just happened…

That night after that one I wasn't doing much of anything when I heard the roaring machine pull up to the driveway. I recognized the engine instantly and smiled. It seemed as though my neighbor had at last returned but why at such a late hour I wasn't aware.

I made my way to my window. I pulled back the drapes and looked out. The bright of the yellow made it almost illuminate under the moonlight. It was dark, but I could still make out the form of the man getting out of the car. But he sat there in the car for a few moments, and I watched him with growing attention.

He moved and for a second the sudden movement startled me. I squinted my eyes to better see him and he got out of the car. Something about his stance was off from his usual upholding one, and for a second I wondered if this was even Jay Gatsby. This new form was weakened, and drooping. There was no pride or likeliness to be found in it. It hung low, and if my ears weren't deceiving me, I thought I was able to hear a slight whimper.

I still observed him from my window, preparing to drop the curtain if he were to turn around and look into my house….But he didn't. He just closed the car door and stood there tilting over it, and he wouldn't move, almost as if he couldn't.

My mouth trembled as I went away from the window, throwing on my coat before quietly opening my door and going out on my porch where I still viewed him. He still had not moved and stepping onto my lawn, getting a closer look, I realized that he was shaking. His pale suit wrinkled and shifted with each slight tremor of his body.

"Mr. Gatsby?"

He cringed at the sound of my voice, confirming he now knew I was behind him. Still, he did not move from his position. Then, he paused and bowed his head low, his face concealed in the shadows.

"Old Sport…I'm…so happy to see you…"

That was erroneous. His voice, it was wrong, all fragmented and hazy the way it was. That wasn't his voice. It was too weak.

"Are you alright?" I asked him,

Again Gatsby faltered and didn't respond, almost as if he were thinking about the answer. He stopped, and lifted his head to look up at the sky, reflecting the moments five years ago when he had first kissed Daisy Buchanan, contemplating, grimacing at the action. I thought something shot through him because his back straightened and he pushed himself backwards. He groaned and stumbled without support from the car.

"Jay, are you alright?" I inquired with more firmness, moving towards him. He didn't answer and worry wrecked through me as I forcibly spun him around to face me, his back against the car as he pathetically stared up at me. I gasped at his sight, his once golden, silky hair, was now matted and clumped with dark red, his perfect face now bruised, suit tattered and blood stained, and he looked so, so very exhausted… "...Gatsby?"

And his watery eyes fluttered, closing as he slipped away from me and the waking world. He fell limp in my arms as I struggled to catch him, everything silent, save for two cars suddenly speeding down the road and it was then that I realized we were being watched this entire time.