Work Text:
What components go into a man
Is it the notches on his uniform
The trophies adorned in his household
The fortune he has accumulated
The love that gives him hope
The war he has undergone
Tell me what is it
Rolling hills of water pummel the coast of Long Island. Gatsby pulls his face from the window of his private jet. This is his final service to New York before he’s free. Free from the pain and memories that haunt this desolate little city he used to call home. As the plane touches down on the private runway near the Valley of ashes airport he comes to the realization that things are not as urgent now that he is here. His plan to finally be with his first love can be enacted. Daisy and he can finally be happy. His car is waiting for him down the long strip of concrete. He takes his bags with him on the trek to the car. Getting in and traveling to his gothic home in West Egg.
Lurching into his driveway Gatsby moves to take his bag out of the back and makes his way to the front door. Maneuvering his way inside is like taking a bath in ice water. The house is his by money alone. Nothing inside is personal except in his room. All the new trendy decorations adorn the walls and floors. Perfect decorations for a party. Full of young wealth and young people to boot. An excellent lure for his love. Daisy lives life lavishly across the bay. Gatsby makes his way outside to the dock that extends the house outwards into the water. The green light still burns at her house, illuminating the water with its bright light. With renewed vigor, he began thinking about the preparations needed to make this party the best out of any he had ever hosted. Every detail down to the appearance of the floor needed to be perfect.
The night sky is blotted out against the lights pouring from Gatsby’s house. Proceedings are in full swing. People are coming left and right. Dancers, musicians, waiters, chefs, performers, and other personnel are bustling back and forth across the lawn. The party-goers are joyful; some are drunk and others are just immersed in the environment around them. Gatsby is still in his room anxiously pacing as he awaits Daisy’s arrival. He has on his best suit and accessories; his hair is gelled to perfection in a slick back style.
His pacing ceases as Kilpspringer opens his door to inform him that his expected guest has arrived. Taking a deep breath and smoothing out his clothes Gatsby puts on his hosting smile and makes his way downstairs to greet her for the first time in years. His version of a perfect meeting is quickly shattered once he sees Daisy. In place of the happy smile he expected is a scowl as she glances at the man and other women who accompany her up to the front door. She speeds up her pace to make it to the door first and gives Gatsby a hug once she recognizes his face. Greetings are exchanged and he is notified that the man and woman in question are her husband, Tom, and his mistress, Myrtle Wilson. Soon the group makes their way to the main party out in the back where things are more lively.
Gatsby follows at a distance as things begin to get heated between Daisy and the unnamed woman. Her being at this party seems completely spontaneous. The climax in whatever discussion was happening when daisy pulls back her hand and slaps the woman across the face with all her might.
The world seems to stand still for a movement. Gatsby’s never seen this type of anger from Daisy before. Red-faced, clenched fists and gritted teeth all are visible from anywhere in the party. Daisy mutters one last retort before storming off the way the group came.
The altercation still has a hold over the party. “Come now friends the night is still young. Do not let it pass you by because of some simple conversation that did not pertain you!” With that, the music starts up again. Daisy’s husband Tom had long since forgotten about the two women he brought with him; already engrosses in the alcohol offered. Myrtle collecters herself. shaking off whatever trace that slap had over her, she makes move to follow Daisy. Gatsby follows after them both. He doesn’t know why but any argument that results in violence does not sound like a stable breeding ground for resolution.
The shouting match has traveled from the front steps down to where the cars are parked for the night. Daisy is in the driver’s seat of a car that is running clearly seeking to calm herself down but that seems like a far-off dream with myrtle on a murder strut towards her. The two come to a head. Shrill voices rising but never enough to drown out the music still bleching from the house behind them. The car is still running exhaust rising with the growing time the two spend getting nowhere. While Myrtle seems to have a stable hold on her angry. Daisy is becoming more and more unhinged. He watches all of what comes next from his perch closer to the house. He notches as Daisy’s hand creeps closer to the gear shift, as she screams and slams her foot into the gas peddle, as Myrtle’s body is struck and flies sky high before plunging back down to the ground. It only lasts for a second but that is enough to change everything.
Daisy is not phased by what she’s done, maybe it’s shock, or maybe she just doesn’t want to accept the fact that she killed a woman in cold blood. Gatsby is the first to move. He cleans the scene. Placing the car Daisy drove back in place and calling the police. He spins a tale of lies claiming that a rouge car came from nowhere and hit Myrtle while the two were arguing in the street. His reputation holds under scrutiny and things go without a hitch. When the body is finally courted away, Gatsby tells daisy of his desire to take her away from New York, where they would live their own life happy and content as a couple. Daisy has no response to this but after a moment she nods.
Things don’t improve as Gatsby makes the necessary preparations for their departure. More and more bodies show up all connected to Tom and Myrtle. To the double life he lived. He is so engrossed in what awaits him on the other side he neglects to notice the impending crisis that is coming. The only thing that yanked him out the clouds for once is a note left on his front porch late one night informing him to go to an abandoned warehouse in the city.
He makes his way inside the side door as instructed in his note. He knows there’s no point in creeping so he boldly walks towards the center room. The sight that greeted him was Daisy hold Tom’s unconscious body up with a knife to his throat. “Daisy, my love, this doesn’t have to be the end. I can help set you free and then we can fix this. Get away from this toxic town and the people in it.” The last word that leaves his lips sets it all in motion. Daisy tugs her hand across his throat and Tom’s body slumps to the floor. Gatsby will remember the deranged look she has in her eye while she slipped the knife across her own husband’s throat. Shaking he stands in front of the scene before propelling himself towards Daisy where she stands. He goes for a hug all while reassuring her that he can fix this. And they can still travel to Europe to live their lives away from all that happened in New York. As his mumbling gets more and more frantic Daisy snaps. Pushing away from him and wielding the knife in wide arcs as she begins to rant.
“Y’know you’re pathetic. All the romanticization of the love you feel for me and the relationship you want us to have.” Every emphasis on the word you is paired with a knife right in Gatsby’s face. “The perfect life where everything that happened while you're gone is just erased from existence. I don’t want that. I never even dreamed of having anything with you once I read that stupid letter before my wedding. I wanted to stay and be passive with my shithead of a husband in that house we had with that little sniveling blob that came out of my vagina.” Now she stands right in front of Gatsby, the precarious knife perched on his chest. Right on the spot where his heart resides beating with fast-paced anticipation on what she will do. “Now, look at me. Covered in his blood with a groveling fool in front of me who was so blinded by the past he couldn’t accept that his pReCioUs liTtlE sWeeTHeArT didn’t want him.” Both of their chests rise with heavy breaths. Daisy’s with anger and Gatsby’s with fear. The deeds he’s committed are now coming back to haunt him. It’s as if her expression of the rage and resentment she held finally snapped him out of his fantasy world he built inside his mind. But now was far too late to be coming to life-altering realizations. Countless bodies are attached to both of their names and Nick has slowly been getting closer to closer to the true culprit with every passing hour.
“I- Wha-” He stops. What is left to say? Every ambition and goal he set for himself being here is moot. The two of them are still standing in front of each other. Knife to Gatsby’s chest, blood staining Daisy’s sundress she had worn for the day. There’s no out for them now
Shuffling originating from the front door catches both of their attention. Ripping their gaze or each other to the door Nick emerges with Jordan and the whole police department in tow.
The context of this meeting is not lost on anyone present. It’s the finale of their connected stories. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be Gatsby” Nick is the one to break the silence. Gatsby lifts his head to fully look Nick in the eye. The young man doesn’t see the light that was once there and knows the statement was not needed.
Gatsby and Daisy criminals by chance.
Police proceedings go smoothly. Gatsby has lost the love that helps him up and Dasiy is free from the expectations he held for her. Statements are taken from both of them on every death that happened. Myrtle, Her sister Catharine, her husband Geroge Wilson, the McKees, and finally Daisy’s husband Tom. The evidence is damning. Solidifying the outcome of jail for life for both of them.
Trial advances as foreseen. The guilty verdict does nothing for the two defendants. Gatsby keeps his blank look even as he’s led to his cell. Wherein he will sit for the rest of his days. With nothing to hold dear except any fantasy, he could build up in his head.
Inform me on what goes into making a man
The lies he has spun
The bodies that follow his footsteps
The tears that adorn his cheeks
The reputation that now has a stain
What is it?
What makes a man?