16Title : A short stay in Switzerland (the title doesn't belong to me. It belongs to a BBC show that I didn't watch. But the name was inspired :):)
Synposis: The last weeks of a girl about to die.
Length:- This story is going to have six/seven chapters.
Inconsistencies: I'm not a doctor so there may be a few medical inconsistencies. This is purely a work of fiction. No characters depicted in this story are based on real people.
Rated : T
Heathrow Airport. Terminal 5.
We're officially in the biggest airport in all of Europe. Jack is in awe. He keeps looking around with interest.
This is my first time too, but I feel too tired to get up and explore. Instead I collapse on a seat and Jack seats himself beside me. "What is it?" he asks worriedly, "What's wrong?"
I try to smile but it comes out a grimace instead. "Just tired," I mumble then wave my hand towards the shops. "Go ahead. Shop till you drop."
Jack doesn't want to leave my side but I threaten him to go. I watch satedly as he walks briskly to Duty-Free and wave my hand, as he stops to look back.
The next thing I know, I've nodded off and don't wake up until a tannoy loudly announces the next incoming plane. I sit up and tiredly rub my eyes.
"Why didn't you wake me?" I ask and Jack stares back at me in guilt. I note the three new bags around him with pleasure. "You looked so peaceful.." he mutters and then scratches his ear.
I've known him long enough to know that a sign of lying. I glance down at my newly adjusted watch and gasp. "Our train!"
Jack looks up at me under his eyelashes then looks away, staring out of the darkening window determinedly. The pieces start fitting together as I continue staring at him.
"You wanted me to miss the train, didn't you?" I accuse and he doesn't say anything to deny it. I tap my fingernails agitatedly against the arm-rest.
"Well it's good thing I booked a late train, isn't it?" I ask and watch as he starts. Fists clenches tightly at his sides. I get up, dusting off my stone-washed jeans in preparation.
"I'm getting on the 8:02 train to Paris whether you like it not. If you don't, then I suggest you fuck off back home."
I don't mean to be that harsh but it's the only way he'd understand I wanted this.
I grab the handle of my luggage and start towards the exit, stopping once to ask someone where the nearest train station was.
Heathrow was in south-west London and I needed to get to central London within the hour.
A kind lady directs me to the London Underground to board the Piccadilly Line, and I thank her profusely.
The train takes ten minutes to come. In the ten minutes I bought a magazine and flipped through the pages blindly.
With two minutes to spare, a stranger comes and sits in the seat beside me. Tearing my eyes from an article about Beyonce, I look up- and then freeze.
It's Jack. He's staring straight ahead withought breathing a word, his fists clenched on his lap. I notice the three bags he previously had with him were missing.
I sniff and flip a page and when the train comes, brightly lit and delightfully warm, I board it, Jack following me all the way.
This time I make sure I'm wide awake until we reach our desired stop-
St King's Cross and St Pancras.
"I'm sorry miss, no needles are allowed on board, medication or no," the lady stresses the word no and I feel like smacking her.
It was 7: 50 and we'd be lucky if we were able to board on time. For some strange reason, I felt like Jack wasn't going to help me out on this.
"Fine," I relent throwing my arms in the air. I turn to Jack. "Jack, just stick a needle in me and get this over with."
Jack looks alarmed and guides me a safe distance from the desk. "What?" he hisses.
"It's simple," I say matter-of-factly. "Inject the twelve hour dose in me and we'll take it from there."
"Are you crazy?" Jack yells/whispers. "You've been taking 38mg for every four hours! Taking a twelve hour dose of 70mg will screw your system!"
I stare him dead straight in the eye and watch his green eyes spark. "Listen. To. Me, " I say calmly, " We have no choice. I have to take a twelve hour dose now. I'll top up when we get to Switzerland. I took four hour doses earlier but hey, I've been doing twelve hour ones forever!"
Jack still remains unconvinced but I can see that he's beginning to bite back his scathing responses.
He watches me as I take out the needle and tap it, making sure the morphine all rests at the bottom. Then I stick it into my inner elbow.
"Just make sure I don't embarrass myself, okay?" I smile as I start to waver on my feet. Jack reaches out to grab me and firmly holds me by the hips.
"Whatever you want, Cassie," and kisses me while I can't protest. After, I giggle weakly and my head lolls on his chest as he leans down and snaps my suitcase close.
He straightens up, holding it firmly and makes sure to discard of my used needles. Wrapping it in tissue paper and securing it with an elastic band.
And then as he strides over to the bin, I hear him mutter, " Whatever you want," once again.
But this time, he sounded angry. Very angry.
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