Chapter Text
He was alive.
Just an inch or so lower and he’d be dead, but he was alive.
Jay Gatsby lay in his cot staring up at the blurry ceiling with exhausted eyes. His breathing was shallow but just enough to where he could breathe and think not of Daisy Buchanan but of Nick Carraway.
He couldn’t remember how he got there. He did remember, though, that Daisy had called him just before he fell into the black abyss of the swimming pool. Remembering this, his heartbeat sped up along with his breathing and, almost like magic, a nurse had appeared by his side and carefully took his hand.
“Mr. Gatsby,” she said calmly, trying to give him a reassuring smile, “you must calm yourself, you’re in no state to afford a panic.”
He looked around a moment, noticing a tube going from his wrist to a clear bag above him, then noticing the slight tingling sensation where he had been shot. The numbing was slowly going away and he knew he was in for a world of pain, emotionally and physically.
“Nick-” he gasped, trying to force himself to relax, “Has Mr. Carraway come to see me?” He paused, “Or Mrs. Buchanan?”
The nurse thought a moment, contemplating not telling him out of slight jealousy. Being Gatsby’s nurse would give anyone a feeling of honor, and him being him, they’d want him for themselves. Especially if they got the chance to give him a sponge bath. That wouldn’t really be necessary, though.
“Y-es,” she said slowly, putting her index finger on her chin and taking her time to think, “come to think of it, Mr. Carraway was actually here earlier. He’s been checking in every other hour it seems like.”
He was disappointed, somewhat, that she did not mention Daisy.
“How long have I been here?” He asked with a quiet shock, his eyes widening. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Perhaps a week, maybe shorter. You’ve lost an extraordinary amount of blood and your doctors had to put you under.”
Her bluntness set him back a foot or two, but he continued forth, not realizing his breathing was back to normal. “Did I mutter in my sleep?” He wondered, frowning a bit. He wasn’t much of a sleep talker, but for some reason the answer to this question was imperative. He hoped if he did, he asked for Daisy, his sweet Spring flower. The thought of her, though, disheveled him.
“You asked for Daisy,” she confirmed. He smiled. “And Nick. You two must be good friends. Should I call for him?”
“At once!” Gatsby exclaimed, using his free hand to lift himself up on the bed. “He must think I’m dead, the poor thing- Let me call him myself, will you?”
He squeezed her hand lightly, sending just the right amount of electricity through his fingertips and up her arm to make her giggle, nod, and call for a telephone. A black rotary was set on a small, round table next to him and, as quickly as he could and without skipping a beat or number, he rang up Mr. Carraway.
Alone in his cottage home, Nick sat on his sofa, staring blankly at nothing in particular. The faintest whiff of a flower caught his nose, making him wonder when they, too, would die. Since Gatsby and Daisy’s visit, he hadn’t removed a single flower, letting them all wilt. That wasn’t his intention; he was going to take care of them, truthfully, but he had all but lost his will once the rumors of Gatsby’s death hit his ears and heart like bricks.
It was only about a week since that fatal night and he was already growing a shadowy grey stubble around his chin and below his nose. Misery had Nick in a vice grip and he almost didn’t answer the phone when it began to ring. At first he assumed it was Daisy, calling to ask if it was true, that Gatsby was really dead, and he was in absolutely no mood to hear anything she had to say or ask. He believed, that for the rest of his life, he wouldn’t really want much to do with Daisy nor Tom. True, it wasn’t their faults that Jay was in the hospital, but he still felt a sort of hate toward them that he couldn’t describe. Besides, he knew they wouldn’t have attended the funeral anyways. He asked for them, he was shut down. Why not shut down on them, too?
He picked up the phone though, on a whim, and the voice he heard nearly put him to tears.
“I’m alive, old sport.”
Despite his excitement, Jay’s voice was soft and tender. He was unaware of the extent of Nick’s worry, unknowing to the fact that he wasn’t really taking too much care of himself, so when he heard the faintest, most quietest sob on the other side of the line, he knew automatically that Nick wasn’t alright. Or, more so, un-alright than he presumed.
“Are you doing alright?” He heard Nick’s raspy voice ask, and somehow this made he completely forget about Daisy, just for the moment.
“I’m alright, old sport, but are you?”
His voice ended with a sort of tone that almost made Nick feel okay, and hearing Jay’s voice made him feel a little better already, but something irked him so badly it prevented him from really being excited to talk to him. This happened often.
“Yeah,” Nick lied, rubbing his eyes with his free hand and trying to wake himself up by sitting up taller, “yes, I suppose I am. Did the nurses tell you I-”
“Came to check on me? Why, of course they did! But there’s no need to worry, old sport, I’m completely alright. I’m alive, aren’t I?”
Nick smiled tiredly but with relief. “I suppose you are. Would you like me to pick you up once you’re discharged?”
“As long as you don’t mind it, of course.”
There was a moment where the conversation ended and the line was quiet, neither of them knowing what else to say but not exactly wanting to stop talking. Nick was almost afraid that Gatsby wasn’t actually talking to him, that he was just so grief-stricken that he was imagining it, but then he heard his voice again and it made his world a little brighter.
“Have Edgar give you the keys to my Duesenberg, I trust that you won’t wreck it on your way over here, hmm?”
This almost made Nick laugh. “I’ll be there soon.”
“Ah, there you are! I was beginning to think you forgot me!”
Nick couldn’t bring himself to laugh once he reached where Jay was standing in front of the hospital, but he did give the man a smile at his teasing remark. Seeing him standing, walking, breathing- it gave him a sort of childlike happiness that only Gatsby could seem to make him feel.
“How badly does it hurt?” Nick asked as without meaning to as he pulled away from the hospital. Jay patted the wound a few times and said it didn’t hurt too badly, but Nick could tell otherwise when he saw him flinch just a little when he did that. He decided to change the subject. “You know they found him dead by your pool, don’t you? Mr. Wilson?”
“God bless him and his family.”
Nick was flabbergasted at this statement. “The man tried to kill you, Jay, and you say ‘God bless him’?”
Gatsby nodded. “He was just a lost man, old sport, and he had no idea it wasn’t me that killed his wife that night,” his voice suddenly dropped, either as if someone could hear them or he was trying to convince him of something, “don’t you feel bad for him, too?”
Nick thought for a second and sighed a bit, not sure how to argue his feelings about it. “Yes, I guess so. “
In his agreement, Jay sensed a distasteful disdain in his voice and cocked a brow to give him a begging look. “Oh, don’t be so upset, old sport. I’m here and that’s all that matters, isn’t it?”
This relaxed Nick a little.
“Yes, I guess so,” he repeated, a corner of his mouth turning up just slightly. Satisfied, Jay sat back in his seat and took in their surroundings as they made their way to his home, smiling fondly as he usually did.
“Would you like to stay for tea?”
“Oh, I really couldn’t-”
“Oh, but you could!” Jay insisted, a hidden excitement in his voice. He was always an eager man, but Nick could tell there was something behind his words that he couldn’t quite find. He observed Gatsby a second as if he could see the secret on his face, but he couldn’t stare for long so he agreed. Besides, he hadn’t had much intake since the incident. Maybe some tea and lunch would do them both some good.
“I suppose you’d like me to invite Daisy as well?”
The smile on Jay’s face gave his answer away before he could, and Nick gave him a simple nod.
“Alright. But allow me to get ready first-”
“If you mean you need to shave, you could just use a razor I haven’t used yet. I’ve got many new ones somewhere…” Jay reserved himself to a mumble and he tapped his chin as he walked toward a hallway. Nick followed close behind, somewhat curious and somewhat not wanting to just stand alone in his glorious home. He didn’t like being awkward in front of others, especially Gatsby, but it was worse alone in a still unfamiliar place (despite having been there many times before).
“Jay,” Nick tried unsuccessfully. He tried again. “Jay, it’s alright, I have one at home.”
He reached for Jay’s arm to stop him and he did, but the look on his face as he turned around told Nick before he could get a word out that he didn’t want him to go, not at all. Then, all of a sudden, that smile was back on his face and he gave Nick a curt nod.
“If you insist. Might I call you a cab?”
“No,” Nick responded quietly, almost immediately. They were both standing still, now, tension growing around them. Nick had no idea what he was doing, but that was the usual, wasn’t it? “No, I suppose I could use one of yours if that’s really alright with you.”
His words seemed to make Jay relax and the stress in his smile lessened. “Of course, I don’t mind at all. I’ll find you a razor, and- and you’ll go phone Daisy, will you?”
Nick nodded, letting go of the man’s arm and turning back into the living room to phone his cousin. He didn’t really want to considering she hadn’t contacted him at all since before Jay was hurt. It was all over the newspapers and headlines and she hadn’t shown an ounce of regret or mourning to Nick. It disgusted him, but he did it anyways for Jay.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
“Hello?”
A sweet, angelic voice floated into Nick’s ear and he was surprised that she had actually answered. She didn’t at all when he tried calling her a week ago. Maybe she knew, somehow, that he was calling from Jay’s phone and that’s why she picked up.
“Hello, Daisy,” Nick tried to sound cheerful, “Jay and I would like to invite you for tea.”
“Oh…” she said, disappointment thick in her voice. Nick couldn’t tell if she wanted to or if there was something else going on. “So Gatsby… he’s okay?”
“Of course,” Nick responded, his voice a bit hard, “so you know about what happened?”
“I meant to call,” she attempted, “really, I did, but-”
“But?”
She was quieter. “Tom and I…” Nick could feel her pouting from the other side of the line. “Don’t you understand, Nicky?” She asked, desperation in her voice. He couldn’t tell if how she felt was real or not and he wasn’t quite sure he cared. And though he didn’t want to see her in the first place, he was a bit upset she couldn’t come. It would have made Jay feel much better and that’s all he cared about at the moment.
“I do,” he said shortly, “so what should I tell Jay? That you don’t love him anymore?”
He didn’t mean to be so rude or blunt and he even felt bad for saying it like that, especially when he could hear her gasp, but it was something they were obviously dancing around. Daisy was quiet before she answered.
“Tell him I can’t make it today and I’m sorry.”
Suddenly, the line was cut and Nick was finding himself unable to put the phone down for he had such a tight hold on it he felt he could barely move. When he put it back on the receiver, though, he realized he wasn’t alone in the room. Standing in the entrance to the hallway was Jay with the most lost look that Nick had ever seen on a man.
He had heard everything and his heart was broken.
“I found you a razor,” he choked, holding it out to Nick, “I’ll have Edgar fix our tea.”
“Jay, I’m-”
“Oh, old sport,” Gatsby whispered, putting the razor in Nick’s hand and putting his other on his shoulder. He was trying to force a smile, but Nick could see the intense pain in his eyes. “It was only a matter of time. But at least I still have you, don’t I?”
A tug on his heart made Nick smile gently and he nodded once. “Yes, you do.”
“Right then,” Jay said, turning his head to cough out the lump in his throat so he could speak clearer, “right then. You get cleaned up and I’ll have the tea readied. Shouldn’t take too much time. Is there a certain kind you like?”
“Earl grey is fine,” Nick assured, only aware that he had only ever had that kind. Jay nodded, forcing his smile wider as he walked past him into the kitchen. Nick continued on into one of the many bathrooms, ridding his face of the week-long depression stubble before coming back out. He wasn’t half-surprised to see that Jay still wasn’t in the living room- he was always easily distracted- but then he heard the man’s voice in the kitchen and he stood near the entrance, quietly, to listen in.
“He enjoyed the small, chocolate cakes you made last time. Make them again, won’t you?”
“Sir, wouldn’t you prefer me to make-”
“No, she… won’t be enjoying those here anymore. It will just be Nick and I for now, thank you.”
Nick could detect some sorrow in words and decided not to listen anymore, so he made his way to the couch and waited for Gatsby there. When he walked in, he sauntered over to Nick as if nothing was wrong. He was rather good at pretending he was fine. He was Nick’s favorite actor.
“What’s on your mind, old sport?” He asked softly, sitting rather close to Nick. Nick knew what he was about to say was obvious, written all over his face, but he said it anyways.
“I was sure you were as good as dead when I hadn’t heard from you,” he admitted, the sadness they were holding at bay creeping upon them once more, even more heavily, “I was a little lost, to say the least. I’ve never met a man like you before and wasn’t sure I would again.”
Jay was speechless. His whole life, he’d never had anyone care for him in such a way that Nick did. Maybe Daisy did, when they were younger those five years ago and freshly in love, but never really quite like Nick did. For the first time in a rather long time, even while he was with Daisy for that short time a little over a week ago, Jay felt a sense of belonging and like someone needed him. To tell the truth, he needed Nick, too.
“Why- thank you,” Gatsby said, patting Nick’s knee and giving him a smile, “you haven’t the slightest idea what that means to me, Nick.”
The sound of his name on Gatsby’s voice and tongue made Nick see stars. It was so rare for him to be called by his name by Gatsby, always being referred to as ‘old sport’ (which, really, he didn’t mind), but Gatsby saying his name, for some reason, relaxed him to say the least. So much, even, that he had lost his vision and consciousness.
When he was back, Gatsby was holding a small, chocolate treat before him with a worried expression.
“Nick, are you alright?”
His name again. His heart jumped.
“Yes, yes, I’m so sorry-”
“When was the last time you had eaten anything?”
Nick almost laughed. Of course he didn’t get so excited he passed out, that was ridiculous. It was only then he realized he was basically starved. Perhaps he wasn’t as alright as even he himself thought. How troubling.
“I’m not sure,” he responded honestly, slowly taking the cake from Jay, “maybe yesterday or days ago. The last week has been a blur.”
“Well, eat up then!” Jay insisted, taking one for himself, “And you’re staying for dinner, I won’t hear another word about it. What would you prefer, lamb or beef?”
Nick smiled and shook his head, the situation making his head spin, “I couldn’t-”
“But you could, I insist.”
He couldn’t say no, and he didn’t much want to, but he sighed anyways. “I’m fine with whatever you want,” he said, smiling a little, “Jay.”
Jay paused at the abrupt use of his name, but then he smiled some more and nodded once before standing. “Alright,” he said, fixing the overcoat to his suit, “lamb it is. Let me fetch our tea and you can tell me about the last week’s events.”