The journey to Zurich, Switzerland felt arduously slow and tedious. Jaselle arrived feeling as if he had been travelling for two weeks, non-stop. When he got to Zurich, he was completely exhausted, although he suspected that the past week's events were catching up with him, too.

He still had one last leg of his trip to make. While in London, he had telephone ahead to the LaFeyette Clinic, which had come recommended to Raquel by his friend, Lorna. It was located some several hours journey, by train, from Zurich, and situated a few kilometers from the small township of Locarno, nestled in one of the loveliest and most picturesque parts of the country.

Ticino was the warmest part of Switzerland, extending south to the Italian plains, having hot and balmy summers and rather mild winters. It was a land dotted by hills and cut by green, idyllic valleys, where the natives built their lovely homes of white stones, reaching two stories high. The villages were filled with trees, and often divided by small, crystal clear streams or rivers.

During the call to the clinic, Jaselle had required that a car be sent to the Swiss airport to meet Jackson and take him to the clinic, as he had no desire to travel by train to Locarno. The person that he spoke to was quite agreeable and promised that it would be attended to.

Presently, Jaselle was sitting in the back seat of that car, staring out of the window, hardly noticing the pleasant scenery that was flashing by, as they drove further into the countryside, following the gently winding road. He was too tired and anxious, to give proper credit to the lovely lush land and the quaint houses that they drove by. He did notice, however, that this part of the journey seemed to be taking the longest, allowing him too much time to think. He found himself fidgeting with his hands almost constantly.

'Am I doing the right thing?’ He asked himself. It was the first time that he had really considered the question.

The tall, wrought iron gates of the LaFeyette Clinic loomed ahead of the car. He could see that behind them, down the lengthy, circular driveway, was a large, picture-postcard-like manor, and that constructed near it was a more modern building, two stories high, long and brilliantly white.

The estate was encircled by high stone walls, which had fierce looking metal spikes running along the top of them. There was also a sentry posted at the main gate. All of it together was reminiscent of some prison camp.

'This is it', he realised, as the vehicle passed between the gate, toward the manor house. Jaselle glanced back at the gates. They were already closing behind them. He could not turn back now -not even if he wanted to, which he didn't. He had made his choice a long time ago and was prepared to live by that choice.

The front door of the main house opened and a woman came out, smiling broadly, walking down the steps to the parked car. The woman had a round, cheery face that was adorned with a charming, warm smile. She had big, green eyes that sparkled with kindness. She was attired in a white nursing uniform, and introduced herself to Jaselle as Matron Marion Thomson. She spoke with a clear and pleasing English accent.

Marion escorted Jaselle into the grand old manor, which was filled with everything fine and beautiful, from the furnishings to the objects d'art. Marion took Jaselle upstairs, to the second floor, and showed him his room, which was where he would be staying while at LaFeyette Clinic.

The driver followed them into the room, carrying Jaselle's luggage, which he placed by the wonderful looking double bed. The bed was made of oak and handsomely carved in a simple style, and the pillows were large, looked fluffy, and ultimately comfortable. A large goose down, patchwork quilt covered the bed, blending into the rustic, charming air of the room. There were a large set of windows, which opened out onto a balcony that had a splendid view of the rear grounds of the manor and the surrounding countryside, and beyond that some distant, snow capped mountains. Jaselle was suitably pleased.

The driver, a tall, broad, dark-haired young man, was looking to Marion to be dismissed. She kindly thanked him, calling him Erik, and said that he could go. He bowed to her silently, but stole a quick but smoldering glance to Jaselle one more time before departing.

The young man's blatant appreciation of Jaselle's beauty made the two women regarded one another with a smile, for Jaselle assumed that as matron of the clinic, Marion would be aware of what sort of surgery he was to undergo.

"If he only knew, right?" Jaselle said glibly. He stepped out onto the balcony to survey his new surrounds. Marion followed.

"Dr. LaFeyette will come by to see you directly. He would have been here to greet you personally, as he likes to, but I'm afraid that today is one of those days that - "

"I understand," Jaselle remarked, cutting her off bluntly, but not looking at her.

"Yes, well... I trust that you find the accommodation suitable, Jaselle," Marion said, smiling.

"It's just fine, thank-you, Matron," Jaselle replied.

"Please, do feel free to call me Marion," she offered. She explained that at the clinic they aimed to dispense with all the sterile trimmings of hospitals, and other clinics, including many formalities that can cause some clients discomfort and anxiety. They aimed for a harmonious, peaceful environment.

"So I do hope that if you ever want for anything, or feel the need to talk that you won't hesitate to come and see me, at any time of the day, or night."

Jaselle could see that the woman was being quite sincere, but after all his hours of travelling, and with all the tension that was building up inside of him, he wasn't in any frame of mind for niceties and idle chatter. He just wanted to be left alone.

"I'll keep it in mind," he said, more sharply than he'd intended.

"Yes, well," Marion mumbled, still smiling, but conscious that she was not wanted. She quickly asked if there was anything, such as food or drink, that she could get him, but he just shook his head.

He supposed that he should apologise for his shortness, but didn't. He really didn't feel like eating, he was certain of that. Airline food had killed his appetite indefinitely.

He told Marion that all he really wanted to do was to freshen up and begin unpacking his belongings. Marion took the hint that it was time to leave, and on her way out told Jaselle that the evening meal would be served at 5:30 p.m. precisely, and that if Jaselle was hungry by that time, he should join them. He adopted a wait-and-see approach, at which point, Marion left Jaselle to settle into his room.

Jaselle unpacked his clothes and sundry personal items, storing them away in the multitude of cupboards and draws. When he was finished, and he was feeling more at ease, he ventured back out onto the balcony.

The afternoon sun hung pale orange and warm, in the sky. The sweet, clear air blew softly into his face, teasing the long, raven locks of his wig. Movement below, on the grounds, caught his eye. It was the young man, Erik, wheeling a barrow across the lawn.

He was dressed in a pair of overalls, but was bare chested underneath them. There was a shovel and a couple of small trees in pots in the barrow. He stopped at a point just below Jaselle's window and began digging up the earth, working under the bright glare and warmth of the sunshine.

Jaselle watched, not from interest, but for a chance to rest his own mind from thinking about so many things. He didn't really see Erik at all. But the young man must have sensed the stare, for he looked up at Jaselle, his tanned skin glistening with a healthy sweat.

From where he stood, Jaselle looked like some princess of legend; a Juliet waiting for her Romeo. Her hair was billowing about her face in the light breeze. She swept it from her grey eyes, which were large and lost. Erik smiled at Jaselle and waved.

Jaselle snapped back from his distraction when his mind registered that Erik was waving to him. He didn't respond to him. He chose to step back into his room and ignore him. This left Erik to wonder, and frown, at the magical beauty's behavior.

Jaselle sat in front of the dressing table, gazing at himself in the mirror. He thought of Christopher... and there was Old Jas and Raquel, too. And Pearly - God only knew what had been done to her, to extract the information about Jackson’s escape to Zurich.

All of them had been hurt or killed, and because of him; and Claire - the heart he had trampled into the ground, and whom he had loved too selfishly. How much pain had he caused her? No, he didn't want to bring these things upon another living soul; save one and one who deserved it. That person being, of course, his father, Lloyd Crane.

Jaselle had to remain totally free of involvement, for his own sake as well as theirs, or they would only find themselves getting hurt… or worse.

Hadn't Old Jas warned him that his actions would only serve to bring sorrow and agony to all those which he came in contact with? Those words had been proven correct, but he would not let it happen again.

Sometime later, when he washed and changed clothes - the room had an adjoining bathroom - and Jaselle was checking himself in the mirror, there came a knock at the door He called out to whoever it was, telling them it was open. In came Dr. LaFeyette.

He was younger than Jaselle had been expecting, being somewhere in his mid-thirties. He had dark hair and a moustache, with a pleasant, but not handsome face. He was of average height and build and dressed little like a doctor, as Jaselle had expected. He wore expensive and fashionable attire, the latest designs out of Paris, no doubt. He had already introduced himself, and greeted him, speaking with an English accent.

Gaston LaFeyette had been born of French and American parents, his father being a consulate in the diplomatic corps and his mother a famous heiress from one of the best Bostonian families. He'd been schooled in England, and later Paris, where he still spent a lot of his time, when not attending to his clinic. His parents lived in London.

"Pleased to meet you, Doctor," Jaselle said, and they shook hands.

Dr. LaFeyette stared at him with admiration, which made Jaselle feel somewhat uncomfortable. The doctor noticed this and was quick to apologise.

"But it's just - well, you are so very beautiful," he said with a broad and honest smile. "If I had no prior knowledge of your situation, I would never have guessed." he said, amazed.

Jaselle just smiled at him.

They went out onto the balcony, where the doctor proceed to give Jaselle a basic outline of what he could expect over the ensuing couple of days. While he was doing this, Jaselle saw that Erik was still at work, below, and stealing glances at him. Jaselle forced himself to avoid gazing in his vicinity.

"Today and tomorrow will be spent with you resting," Doctor LaFeyette began. "And that will be all you'll be doing."

"I’d thought that I could get this operation over and done with," Jaselle protested, looking at him suspiciously.

"Not so fast," the doctor counted. "Your body needs to regain its strength and energy after such a grueling journey -"

"If you're trying to give me extra time, in the vain hope that I shall reconsider, then forget it. I can assure you that I have made up my mind."

"I believe you," the doctor said, and continued. "So please, believe me when I say that a rest period is needed, and that it is honestly for your own good. The day after that we will run a few tests and start you on a series of injections, which include hormones, some essential vitamins and minerals -"

Jaselle cut him off. "Can't we skip all that and just do it?" he cried-

Dr. LaFeyette shook his head. 'This is my clinic, with my name on it. It has a good reputation," he told her. "I am taking considerable risk performing this operation. I could go to jail if it is discovered that I'd performed it without the legal prerequisites. Plus, you could die on the table due to the severity of the surgery, coupled with your exhaustive journey, and once again, I would be held accountable," he informed her, his tone uncompromising.

Jaselle conceded that he was being unreasonable and agreed that the doctor was talking sensibly.

"Well, I am pleased that we've sorted that out," he smiled at him. "Now, shall we go down to dinner?" he asked Jaselle, as he put out his arm to him.

Jaselle regarded the gesture curiously. He did not accept the doctor's arm. He merely turned away, going back into the house, and the doctor followed him back in.

The dinnertime gathering was quite large, and informal. Aside from Jaselle, there appeared to be another dozen or so people staying at the clinic. They sat along two large, wooden tables. Dr. LaFeyette had Jaselle sit by him at his table. Marion, the matron, sat on the doctor's other side.

The tables were all stacked high with platters of fine of food; roast meats and steaming hot vegetables, fresh bread and a wide selection of mustards. There were glass jugs of water, orange juice, mineral water, milk and Soya milk – but strictly no alcohol.

The extensive selection of foods was consumed with considerable gusto. It was extremely good and Jaselle found that his appetite had returned from it's premature grave. The doctor remarked that it pleased him to see such a healthy appetite in one so young.

As he ate, Jaselle took the time to observe the other clients of the clinic, and speculate as to why they were there. Some were old, and some were in the middle years. Jaselle was evidently the youngest. He guessed that most of the other clients were there for cosmetic surgery, not unlike himself, he supposed, for that was what LaFeyette Clinic was renowned for.

Jaselle made no attempts to strike up conversation with any of the other clients. He spoke only when spoken to and even then it was in abrupt and closed replies. This was the method he'd come up with to remain free of personal entanglements.

That night, after dinner, as he lay in his bed in the darkened room, he prayed for the sleep that would cure his mind of it turmoil. But the hours passed restlessly and he only managed to snatch brief moments of rest.

In the morning, he awoke feeling tired still, but determined not to appear it. He found the energy to go outside and explore the grounds of the clinic. It was a delightful, solitary way to pass the time.

The fresh, crispness of the air made him feel alive and vital, and the power of the old trees that spotted the well maintained grounds, the glow of the flowers, filled his soul with their life and strength. Jaselle was most displeased when his communion with nature was intruded upon by an American woman, also a client of the clinic.

In her late fifties, she had a big mouth, a toothy grin, and ugly, goggling eyes. She smiled wide at Jaselle, revealing her over-developed gnashers.

"Hi! How are you, darling! Remember me? We met last night at dinner. I'm Joanna Bartley, from Los Angeles," she said in her loud, booming voice.

"Ah. Yes, I do recall," Jaselle replied quietly.

"And you're Jaselle, aren't you, honey?"

He nodded, remaining subdued, but growing irritated.

"My goodness, but that is such a lovely name! Jaselle!" She sighed, then looked him over carefully, as one might a prized cow, before shaking her head in bewilderment. “Damned if I can see anything that needs to be ‘nipped’ or ‘tucked’!”

Jaselle felt an ironic snicker flicker at the corner of his lips. Perhaps that’s because you’re not looking in the right place, you obnoxious old bat,’ Jaselle mused.
'
"I sure wouldn't mind looking like you, honey," Joanna said, grinning toothsomely at her. He smiled politely at her, but was finding the woman insufferably abrasive.

Joanna noticed Erik working in the garden, a little distance away. He was stripped to the waist, wearing only a pair of form hugging shorts. His back was turned to them as he was bent over a flowerbed. The sun glistened on his well-shaped shoulder blades, and tiny beads of sweat trickled down his spine. Joanna smiled at the sight approvingly.

"Now that body is perfection, don't you think?" she said.

Jaselle looked at Erik just as he happened to look round at them. His eyes found Jaselle's, but Jaselle quickly looked away and dismissed him. Erik continued to stare, the awe apparent in his face at the sight of Jaselle's beauty.

Joanna waved at Erik enthusiastically and he returned a polite reply. "God, what a man! What a body!" Joanna said with a sigh, and then picked up that it was Jaselle that Erik's gaze was fixed on. This excited her even more.

"Well, if I may say so, I do believe that Erik's more than just a little interested in you, Jaselle."

"I hadn't noticed," he snapped at her, sounding bored.

The head care-take of the clinic's grounds passed the twosome, on his way over to see Erik. He was an old gent, in his early seventies, and balding with a long, elf-like white beard. He had a pixie shaped face and stature to match it. He smiled toothlessly at Joanna and Jaselle as he walked by. Joanna responded in her typically boisterous manner, while Jaselle let him pass without a word.

"I think I'll continue my walk," Jaselle stated, and turned on his heel, leaving Joanna on the garden path, without offering a good-bye.

The American woman looked after him with some offence. "God," she muttered to herself. 'That girl is so cold, you could smash coconuts on her tits," Joanna remarked, with her hands placed on her hips.

He was staring at the perfectly shaped petals of a creamy coloured rose. The tips of the petals were stained, faintly, with different shades of pink, as if dipped in blood, and then left out to dry.

"They are most beautiful, aren't they?" inquired the masculine voice.

Jaselle had not noticed Erik's arrival at his side. He stiffened instantly and took a step back from him and the rosebush.

Erik reached for the bush, for the flower that Jaselle had been staring at. He snipped at the stalk of the flower with some shears, and held the rose in his hand, between them, so that he and Jaselle could both see it more closely.

"Some people call this variety 'Peace'," he informed Jaselle.

Jaselle noticed the blood oozing down Erik's forearm. He'd cut himself on one of the thorns on the rose bush.

"You're bleeding," Jaselle said with concern, and almost went to wipe it away, but then snapped back and restrained him from doing so. Erik did not seem concerned with the scratch.

"Sometimes," he began, "you need to go through pain to find your peace. Do you agree?" He asked Jaselle, eyeing him meaningfully, and extending out to him the hand that held the rose.

Jaselle regarded the flower and then met Erik's eyes. They were kind, thoughtful, and strong.

But Jaselle quickly turned his back to the young man and strode off, taking long, assured steps.

On this afternoon, Jaselle had been summoned to Dr. LaFeyette's office, located in the more modern, out building. It was in this domain that the clinic's clients stayed just prior, during and after their respective surgeries before being transferred back to the main house, and then being permitted to leave the clinic.

This medical out-building was more like a hospital. It was completely and brilliantly white, both inside and out, and utterly sterile of atmosphere, as oppose to the homeliness of the main house. The wards were all private rooms, comfortable, but devoid of humanity .The nurses, and other doctors, provided excellent services and care to their high paying clients.

LaFeyette himself was sitting behind his desk, while Jaselle sat across from him, waiting for him to speak. When it appeared that the doctor, who looked to be lost in some thoughtful pose, Jaselle spoke up himself.

"Doctor, is this about my operation?" he asked him.

This roused the man from his musings. "No, Jaselle, not exactly," he told him. "I called you here about your... er, let’s call it your ‘attitudinal’ problem."

Jaselle's face was set rock hard, as though preparing to do battle.

"In the time that you have been with us, Jaselle, you have been nothing but coldly acknowledging of both me and my staff, and as for the other clients here - well, you are obnoxious, rude and arrogant. This has brought about some tension and unhappiness." He informed her.

"Dr. LaFeyette, I am paying you a great deal of money for an operation - not to make new friends for me. If it were friends that I wanted, I'd go on a Contiki tour, wouldn't I?" he said sarcastically.

LaFeyette grinned wanly at him. "All this leads me to wonder if you're ready, psychologically, for the consequences of this proposed surgery.”

"I wasn't aware that you were a psychiatrist, Doctor?" Jaselle quipped.

"I'm not, and don't profess to be. But I do have some basic knowledge in the field," he told him. "Your behavior is classic of that of person who feels betrayed - who has been hurt and feels unlovable for fear of hurting those close to them. You choose to shut yourself off from all those around you, afraid you will hurt them and yourself. But I'm telling you, it doesn't have to be that way," LaFeyette said passionately.

Jaselle rose from the chair, as if standing to attention.

"Does this mean an extra fifty francs to my bill for this session, Doctor?" Jaselle asked coldly. He looked at him and shook his head, perhaps wondering why he had even bother to try to reach him-

"Well then," Jaselle said, continuing on in his icy tone, "if that's what you feel, Doctor LaFeyette, then I will be out of your clinic within the hour. But I swear, I'll see this clinic's name in ruin because of the inconvenience you have caused me," he vowed solemnly.

LaFeyette sighed and told him that would not be necessary. "It doesn't have to be this way, Jaselle, don't you see?" he said again. "You can have friends and close, intimate relationships...”

"You're a fool," Jaselle said with seething disgust and anger. He turned to go, tired of bantering with him.

"Jaselle - wait!" He cried, as he reached the door. He paused and looked back at the doctor in an arrogant, regal manner. .

"Be ready to be admitted later in the day. Your surgery is scheduled for the first thing tomorrow morning," he informed him.

Jaselle did not show any indication of how he was reacting to the news. He walked out of the office without another word.