Title:

The Flesh Is The Surface Of The Unknown

By:

Canonisation

Disclaimer:

I do not own Holby City, or anything created by Clive Barker, and I'm extremely grateful to the creators for giving me works that I enjoy so much.

Notes:

This is an AU for the most part. Jessie and Zosia never hooked up, but it is set around the time they would have.

Dr. Cowley (and her desire to date Zosia) was mentioned in 'Anything You Can Do'.

This work contains some explicit language and references to sex and violence. It is an edited version to comply with FanFiction dot net's regulations - an uncut version can be found on Archive Of Our Own.

The title is a quote by Victor Hugo.

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Chapter One:

Stark brick passageways faded into the painted walls of the bedroom. The eerie blue glow that seemed to pass between the bricks dimmed, then disappeared. The distant sounds of crying grew faint, then silent.

As awareness grew, Zosia realised she was awake, and in her own bed. Wiping the sleep from her eyes, she pulled herself up to a sitting position and glanced at her alarm clock. It was time to get up.

Already, the details were fading, but she knew she'd had the dream again. From what she could recall of it, something was calling her - something that was in pain, something that was suffering. But she could never find it - she was trapped in a maze of corridors, unable to find a way through, taunted by anguished cries that seemed to come from all around her. And there was something else...something...

Zosia shook her head - it was gone. It always went quickly, no matter how many times she had the dream - and she'd had the dream quite a few time now. It had to mean something, didn't it? She'd tried searching through dream interpretation books, done research on the details she could remember, but none of the interpretations she'd found seemed to make much sense, or be of any relevance to her current life.

Sighing deeply, she rose from her bed, and strode into the bathroom, pushing past a slightly surprised Arthur. As she closed the door, it sounded like he was complaining about her jumping the queue and using all the hot water or some such business, but she wasn't really listening.

Pulling off her clothes, Zosia stepped into the shower and let the hot water cascade down her body, refreshing her and washing away the questions of her nocturnal visions. Puzzling dreams aside, her life seemed to finally be on track for the first time in as long as she could remember. Her training was going well, and even Sacha Levy was confident she was going to pass the year, despite some fairly disastrous events along the way. She liked where she lived, she enjoyed the company of her roommates (far more then they seemed to enjoy each other's company), and she was even - sort of - getting along with her father.

Her father. She closed her eyes at the thought. Both of their lives had been eventful - to say the least - since the day she'd been shocked to see him at the top of that staircase. He'd been giving a would-be inspirational speech to his new acolytes and the sight had almost floored her. She hadn't expected to see him at her place of work, much less running it, and with no forewarning. It had been quite a shock, to say the least.

They'd had their ups and downs since then - which was a colossal understatement - but now they had seemed to have a reasonably decent working relationship. They were, at the bare minimum, able to have a conversation without it breaking down into a screaming match, which was a big improvement.

Finishing her shower, Zosia stepped out and dried herself off. Wrapping herself in a towel, she left the bathroom, walking past Arthur again, who still seemed annoyed about the water for some reason.

At breakfast, Zosia was nibbling a piece of toast and Dominic was fixing some coffee when Arthur emerged from his room, his hair still wet. He sat down at the table, glaring at Zosia, and endeavoured to pour his cereal as angrily as he could.

Zosia frowned. "What?"

"What do you mean, 'what?'" said Arthur peevishly. "You do this every morning."

"Do what?"

"Barge past me into the bathroom."

"I don't think I barge, Arthur."

"And you use all the hot water. I mean, how long do showers need to be, anyway?"

Dominic wandered over with two cups of coffee. "You need your coffee, Digs. You get so cranky in the morning."

"Thank you," mumbled Arthur, obviously not keen on having to thank Dominic. "I just hate having to take cold showers every day."

Dominic smirked. "Well, it'll help to curb that rampaging libido of yours."

Despite herself, Zosia giggled. Arthur glared at her. "It's good to see that my discomfort is so amusing. Plus, I have a girlfriend, as you well know."

"How is Mollusc Girl, anyway?" asked Zosia.

"Maria is fine," said Arthur pointedly. "Anyway...all I'm asking is that maybe we could follow the bathroom rota that I so painstakingly drew up. It's more than fair, I think everyone will agree."

"I'm sorry, Arthur," said Zosia. "You know me - I get tunnel vision sometimes. Hard to see what else is there apart from what's on my mind."

"That is certainly true," said Dominic. "Laser-guided doesn't even begin to describe it."

Arthur took a sip of his coffee. "I suppose I could always get up 45 minutes before anyone else like Dominic."

Dominic recoiled in mock-offence. "Oh, I suppose that just because I'm gay I have to spend more time than anyone on my hair?"

"No. I know you're doing it because I can hear you and your stompy footsteps every morning at an ungodly hour, and it always wakes me up."

"Ignore him," said Zosia soothingly. "Your footsteps are as light as feathers, and your hair is well worth the effort."

("If you like the Tintin look," interjected Arthur.)

"Right back at you," said Dominic and high-fived Zosia.

This prompted an eye roll from Arthur. After a brief pause, however, he looked over at her and gave a small smile. "It is good that you do seem to be in such a good mood lately," he said softly. "I mean, I was getting a little worried that you were falling ap...I mean, I'm not an expert in the mind or anything..."

"Makes the choice of neurology a bit weird," muttered Dominic.

Arthur ignored him. "But...you were...well, struggling is probably the wrong word...and I'm not suggesting that I was listening at your room or anything, but the times I could hear you at night crying..."

"It's okay." Zosia smiled at him warmly. "I know what you mean, and things were rough there for a while..."

"More like most of a year," mumbled Arthur.

Zosia ignored him. "But I really think things are starting to get better. Work's going well...I'm living with two guys I really like..." No point in mentioning the dreams. Bad dreams were just a part of life.

Arthur grinned bashfully. "Oh! Well, of course I like living with you too." Dominic cleared his throat meaningfully. Arthur ignored him, and continued. "And maybe...you could...just a suggestion...talk to your father more?"

Zosia's brows furrowed for a second, then she looked down at her plate. "He didn't put you up to this, did he?"

"Oh no! No...it's just...well, he talks about you sometimes, and you...well, you can tell he misses you."

"Of course, I'd forgotten...you, he, and Uncle Jesse are all great chums now." Zosia smirked. "Keeping up with the all night drinking sessions, are we?"

Arthur put his head in his hands. "Don't remind me...I have to keep thinking up excuses to get away. How can they do that, then perform ludicrously complicated surgery the next day?"

Dominic grinned at Zosia. "Based on both of you, the Marches/Selfs seem to be able to put away a truly staggering amount."

"Dad's always been something of a hedonist," said Zosia.

"Wow, that doesn't sound like you at all," said Dominic with a smirk.

Zosia ignored him. However, what Arthur had said stuck with her. Maybe what she had at the moment wasn't all she needed. Maybe there was something missing.

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A normal enough shift passed, and as she stood in the locker room, buttoning her shirt, Zosia was lost in her own mind. Maybe the dreams were a message. Maybe it was her own subconscious trying to tell her something - that she was lost? No, too literal. That she needed to help someone? That didn't seem right either - she helped people every day (or at least tried to). That she was trapped?

Trapped.

She paused in her buttoning. Maybe that was it! Maybe she'd been so caught up in complicated interpretations and trying to analyse the deeper meaning that she'd missed the most obvious one. She was trapped, and knew the way to get free.

Never being one to back down from a course of action she felt to be right, she made her way through the corridors, finally reaching the CEO's office. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door - having learnt from bitter experience that barging in was rarely helpful to her own mental health - and waited for the invitation to enter.

When it came, she attempted her most upbeat expression and walked in. Her father looked up from his desk in surprise. Opposite him, Colette looked up from her own desk wearing a similar expression. "Zoshie," he said, an air of slight confusion in his voice. "To what do I owe this surprise visit? Hopefully not for you to tell me you've flagrantly violated the rules again in service of your moral compass."

A bitter comeback came up Zosia's throat, but she forced it back down. "I was hoping we could talk," she said levelly, trying to keep her expression upbeat.

Colette raised an eyebrow. "Look, Zosh, if you and Guy are going to talk, give me some warning so I can take refuge in Pulses."

"No, no," said Zosia quickly. "Nothing like that." She turned to Guy. "Look, we've been getting on lately, haven't we?"

"We haven't not been getting on."

"For you two, that's practically a party," muttered Colette.

"So I was just thinking," continued Zosia, "that it's been so long since we talked. You know, really talked. Not since before...well, you know. And I thought it would be...nice."

"Nice," said her father incredulously.

Zosia's face burned in embarrassment. This was stupid. She should just go now and salvage at least some of her dignity. "Forget..."

"I'd love to," interrupted Guy, smiling. "I was supposed to meet the other Rat Packers later on..." (Both Zosia and Colette audibly snorted at the reference, and shared a smile.) "...But they'll understand, I think."

Zosia took a metaphorical breath of relief. She really hadn't expected that to go so well.

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Guy sank into the booth with an apologetic look on his face. "Sorry, darling - had to get some reports finished up. You know how it is."

Zosia sipped her wine and fought back her natural inclination to make a snarky comment. She was making an effort to build bridges, she reminded herself. "It's fine."

Her father waved over a waiter and ordered a drink. Turning back to Zosia, he smiled. "I have to admit, I was a little surprised that you wanted to get a drink. Well, a drink with me at least - Dr. Digby assures me that you're quite fond of a drink most of the time."

"Look who's talking. Anyway, you really shouldn't be using Arthur as a way to spy on me, you know."

"I wouldn't dream of it," said Guy, mock-offended. "Dr. Digby is simply terrible at holding things back - in fact, he often just blurts things out. That's how I found out about you and him, for instance."

"There is no 'me and him'," retorted Zosia. "We're just friends and roommates, and sometimes...there's other benefits. It's not a big deal."

"Very businesslike."

"You're forgetting who I learned that from."

Guy frowned. "Are we arguing? Because I'm sure you said something about getting together for talking, not arguing."

Zosia took a deep breath. He was right - this hadn't been why she wanted to have this get-together. Her father just had this way of getting to her, of bringing out this worst in her. She took a moment to collect herself, then smiled. "You're right. Sorry. I just...since Mama died, I've been so angry..."

"You've always been angry," said Guy with a smile. "So passionate and fearless."

"...And I was aiming it all at you, and I'm realising that now..."

"Only now?"

Zosia looked up at Guy. "I missed so much," she said softly. "Getting to say goodbye...the funeral..."

"That was how your mother wanted it."

"I know...I'm not blaming you..." At Guy's glance, she added: "Any more. But the fact remains that I missed that, and I need...closure on that part of my life. You understand that, don't you?"

"Of course I do." Guy reached to take Zosia's hands. "But you have to understand, it's raw for me too. I know it's been over a year now, but...it was difficult for me...seeing her like that, and afterwards, I was alone..."

By choice, Zosia wanted to yell. At the bottom of a bottle, she wanted to spit at him. I needed you and you left me alone. I came home from medical school and my mother was dead and buried, my father was a drunken mess, and I thought we could help each other, and you pushed me away.

She swallowed the bile back down into her throat. There had been enough screaming matches between the two of them. Now was the time to build bridges - to try to understand what her father had gone though as well, and maybe help each other through this now, like they should have done before. Show some empathy - after all, Mr. Levy was always telling her she needed to work on that. "I understand," she said, with a forced smile. "Let's just talk then, you and me, and maybe later we can talk about Mama?"

"Later...yes." Her father turned away from her as his drink arrived.

Zosia reached for her drink, and kept her smile pasted on. The dinner continued - they ate, drank, chatted about work. It was a perfectly pleasant dinner between father and daughter - not exactly as planned, but it was certainly a start. All she needed to do was be patient - although being patient wasn't really one of her strong suits.

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Pulses coffee shop was known for mediocre coffee and worse muffins, but it had one large advantage - it was the only place within a reasonable distance of Holby City hospital that served fresh coffee. And, since medical professionals practically ran on coffee, it always did a roaring trade. Any time one wanted to find a missing member of staff, Pulses was always the first place to look. Which is exactly what Zosia did, sliding into an empty seat opposite Colette, who was sorting through pages of reports in between sips of coffee. At Zosia's arrival, she looked up, a surprised look on her face. "Zosh? What's happened now?"

"Why," said Zosia irritably, "does everyone assume something's gone horribly wrong whenever I show up? Is it so unbelievable that I simply want to catch up with people I've known most of my life?"

"It's a little unbelievable, yes," said Colette, "considering that I've barely had more than a few grunts and snide remarks from you since I started here. And a drunken breakdown, of course."

Zosia flushed red as she remembered the anniversary of her mother's death. "Thanks for not mentioning that to anyone," she mumbled.

"What was that?" Colette cupped her ear. "Almost sounded like something nice - that can't be right, though."

Once again, Zosia's instinct was to snap something pithy and storm off. However, once again, she fought the instinct. Building bridges and empathy, she reminded herself. "I do just want to talk, believe it or not. I mean, we were friendly at one point, weren't we?"

"A while ago, but yes." Colette sighed. "I miss that girl, you know. The bratty, precocious, brilliant, driven, but still friendly, funny and smiling girl."

"Not the bitter, angry, cold one, then?" said Zosia softly.

"That isn't what I said."

"I know what you meant thought...and you're right." She tilted her head up to meet Colette's eyes. "I'm...trying to work through this. That's why I wanted to speak to Dad yesterday...why I'm talking to you now. I know things can't be as...they were, but I miss those days too..."

"It's about time," said Colette, but her tone was warmer. "What did you want to talk about?"

Zosia sipped at her own coffee nervously. "When I was away...at medical school, and Mama...you know..."

"It was what she wanted. At least, that's what Guy said." Colette shook her head. "It didn't sound like the Anya I knew, but working in hospitals for twenty years - I'd seen it before...terminal illnesses make you see the world differently. Make you take actions that you'd never thought you'd take."

"That was the time I wanted to talk about. About what it...what she was like at...at the end." Zosia looked down at the table. "If it's not too hard...I know she was your friend."

"I miss her too," said Colette softly. "But...I didn't see her much then. Guy and her kept themselves to themselves for the most part, and I didn't want to intrude. They had a limited time together, and I thought they just wanted to make the most of it. So...I let them. I didn't see Guy afterwards until the funeral...and by then he was already..."

"In the bottom of a bottle." Zosia tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice, but didn't entirely succeed. She closed her eyes and shook her head "I'm sorry...I'm trying, I really am. What was it like? The funeral?"

Colette shrugged. "Fairly typical. It was a nice service. Closed coffin. I was worried Guy might...make a scene, but he didn't. It was...nice - she'd have liked it."

Zosia gave a small smile. "Thank you," she said quietly.

"I'm sorry I can't help you any more, but like I said, you'd have to ask Guy."

"I have. He says he's not ready to talk about it yet."

"He probably isn't - you're not the only one that was devastated by it."

At least he got to say goodbye, Zosia wanted to yell, but held herself back. "I know. I'm...giving him time."

Colette raised her eyebrows. "Is this a new and improved Zosia? Did you cut down on caffeine or something?" At Zosia's snort, she grinned. "Kidding, Zosh. I'm really glad you're making the effort to get along. And so are the patients - they were complaining that the constant yelling matches weren't great for recovery."

"They can just go to Darwin for that now."

Colette groaned. "Don't remind me...I have the horrible feeling I backed the wrong horse in that race."

Zosia clocked her head to one side. "Didn't want to say anything, but...yes, quite possibly." At that, she quickly had to jerk to one side to avoid the slightly stale chocolate muffin that flew from Colette's hand.

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"I'm just saying," said Arthur nervously, "that I watched the film, like you both suggested, and I...well, that is..."

Jesse turned to look at him as they walked through Keller Ward. "Speak up, Frank - don't be afraid to speak your mind. Fortune favours the bold, right?"

Arthur stopped and scratched his head. "Um. The thing is, that while I understand the appeal and chemistry of the leads, and certainly, having them all in one film would have been a big draw...that being said...the film itself...is kind of terrible."

Jesse cocked his head to one side. "Terrible?"

"Terrible is actually sort of a harsh way to put it," sputtered Arthur. "It's more...amateurish? Or lazy?"

"That sounds even harsher."

"And you understand that I'm not criticizing people who...um...like the film or anything. We all have tastes in art...and things...that other people might find stupid..."

Jesse frowned. "My taste in films is stupid?"

Arthur held his hands up in a placatory way. "No! No, of course not...that was a...poor choice of words. As I said, I'm of course in no way criticizing..."

"He's teasing you, Arthur." The two men turned to see Zosia standing behind them, her arms folded. "Anyway, you're right - it's a juvenile, sexist, badly made piece of rubbish. And Ocean's 11 is the best of the Rat Pack movies - it's all downhill from there."

"Zosh..." Jesse shook his head. "How could we have failed so badly to instil the greatness of the Pack into you?"

"Forcing me to watch the films well into double figures did not help."

"Next you'll be telling me the Clooney version was better." At Zosia's smirk, Jesse laughed. "Don't let Selfie hear you say that, or your medical career is over."

Arthur raised his arm weakly. "Ah...does this mean I'm excused from watching Robin and the Seven Hoods?"

Jesse draped his arm over Arthur's shoulder. "It's part of your training, Digby. Report back to me tomorrow with what you've learnt."

Arthur nodded reluctantly, and walked off. Jesse turned back to Zosia, who was shaking her head. "That poor boy. What did he ever do to deserve you and Dad?"

"We're making a man out of him! Bringing him out of his shell! Besides," Jesse gave her a significant look, "I could also ask what he'd done to deserve you."

"Hilarious." Zosia paused, looking around the ward nervously for a few seconds. It was a quiet day - the ward was half-empty. What patients there were dozed quietly, while nurses and HCAs busied themselves with their various duties. She looked back to Jesse. "Are you busy? Because I want to talk to you."

"What's happened now? Oh God, you're not pregnant, are you? Is it Digby's? Because if it is, I'm not sure he's ready for the demands of parenthood..."

"Uncle Jesse!" Zosia glanced around quickly to make sure no-one had heard her snap. Luckily, no-one had, or if they had, they were hiding it very well. "I'm not pregnant, and anyway, Arthur and I haven't slept together in months..."

Jesse raised his hands. "TMI, girl. What did you want, then?"

"If you're not busy, can we go somewhere more private?" At his nod, Zosia led them to the staff room. Jesse took a seat, and she followed. Once settled, she took a deep breath. "I know you and Dad are great friends..."

"Where's this going?"

"Nowhere bad, I promise. I'm just..." Zosia rubbed her temple. "I want to fix things..."

"You know he wants the same, right?"

"I know...or at least, I'm trying to." She sighed. "We've never really been close, he and I. It was always Mama and me. But she's..." Don't let your voice crack, she told herself. "Gone...and she always said family was the most important thing. So I'm trying to achieve some sort of closure on Mama's death, and then me and Dad...well, maybe we can be a normal father and daughter? I don't know...I'm rambling, aren't I?"

"It's fine, "said Jesse warmly. "I understand. What did you want to talk to me for, then?"

"When I was...away..." Zosia held back the tirade that was always lurking right at the front of her mind. "What were they like, during that time? What did I miss?" What did he make me miss, she bit back. No tirades - not any more.

Jesse took her hand. "Zosh...I'd love to help out - but I wasn't there. I hadn't see your Mum and Dad for about a year before I got here. We'd just drifted apart. I'd tried to get in touch after Anya died, but...well, Colette tells me he wasn't exactly taking calls from anyone at that point."

"No - not from anyone." Zosia cursed herself. "Sorry, sorry...I'm trying."

"It's fine. Sorry I can't be of more help."

She gave a thin smile. "It's okay..."

"You should talk to Guy about it."

"I tried...he isn't really ready to talk about it, he said."

"He probably isn't...it hit him really hard."

"I know." She looked up at Jesse. "I'm working on the empathy thing, I really am. And I can't really fault him for not being over it - God knows I'm not."

Jesse smiled. "See? That's empathy, right there. Keep working on it, you might even pass the Turing Test one of these days."

Zosia flicked him a rude gesture. "And while his methods of coping - namely drinking and fucking - probably aren't ideal, I can't really criticise him for it, since those are pretty much my methods of coping as well." She tried to keep the edge from her voice, but wasn't very successful.

"Whoa!" Jesse sat back in his chair. "This conversation is going to kind of a weird place."

"Uncle Jesse, come on. I'm twenty-seven - can't we just talk about things as adults?" At Jesse's look, she pouted. "I'm not having a go at him, I swear."

Jesse appeared to be searching for the right words for a few seconds. "I'm not sure I should be talking about this with you," he said finally.

"I'm not going to let anything you say get back to him, honest." She paused. "I mean, unless we get into a screaming match again and I blurt everything out, but I've been getting better at those." At Jesse's incredulous look, she smiled. "I'm joking."

"Humour is not your strong suit." Jesse sighed. "Look, your Dad's methods are what works for him, and they seem to be working."

"I said I wasn't criticising them!" Zosia paused and took a deep breath. She'd wanted to talk about her mother, about the time she'd missed. But, if she was honest with herself, there were other things she needed to deal with. She shook her head. "I'm lying. To you, to myself, to everyone. I'm really not okay with all of that."

"I didn't think you were. Your poker face isn't what it was." He sat back. "So tell me - what exactly aren't you cool with?"

"Him fucking all those other women! Mama wasn't even dead a year before he started - that bitch O'Malley, and I know he's fucking Connie Beauchamp. And those are just the two I know about. God knows how many others there were!" Zosia realised she was shouting, and clamped her mouth shut, trying to calm herself. After a minute, she exhaled loudly. "Wow. That felt good. I hadn't realised how much I'd been holding that in."

Jesse stared at her incredulously. "Probably better you directed that at me, rather than, say, the head of the board."

"Been there, done that."

"So I heard. Feeling better?"

Zosia nodded. "Actually, yes."

Jesse sat back in his chair. "Okay. At the risk of getting another tirade..."

"Sorry."

"Guy has always...been very similar to you. Which makes sense, I suppose."

"We're nothing alike," said Zosia, but she knew it wasn't true.

"He's always enjoyed...the pleasures of the flesh..." Jesse chuckled nervously. "This feels so weird, talking about this with you."

Zosia smiled weakly. "Please. It might be what I need."

"Okay." Jesse took a deep breath. "And he's always had a very...dispassionate approach to sex. Again, just like..." He gestured to Zosia. "Anya and him, though - that was love, not just sex - they had a real connection. But it makes sense that after she was gone, he'd fall into...you know...what he liked. Just...more of it." He sighed. "And it doesn't mean he doesn't still love your mum - he's just...distracting himself."

Zosia was silent for a few minutes, reflecting on what Jesse had said. Eventually, she nodded. "You're right," she said softly. "And like I said, I can't criticise him for it...not when it's what I do. I just...I just can't help myself feeling this way. It feels different now - not like it did before Mama died."

Jesse coughed awkwardly. "What do you mean?"

Zosia fixed him with a withering look. "Don't patronise me - I'm not an idiot. I know he was screwing around with other women even before she got sick, and that you were his...what's the term? 'Wingman'."

"Which you seem strangely calm about..."

"Like you said - dispassionate. It's just sex." She shrugged. "She knew about it and was okay with it. It's what worked for them. I just...have to process that it's okay for him to do it now. And I'm working on that."

Jesse chuckled and shook his head. "Don't take this the wrong way, Zosh, but your family's messed up."

Zosia slumped back in her chair wearily. "Tell me about it."

Jesse was silent for a moment, processing something in his mind. "So...is he really sticking it to Beauchamp?"

"Oh come on." Zosia snorted. "Have you seen the two of them together? It's not even subtle!"

"Gotta give the man respect, though - that's one classy piece of tail."

"Uncle Jesse!"

Jesse held his hands up placatingly. "Sorry, sorry - forgot who I was talking to. That was inappropriate."

Most things with my family seem to be, thought Zosia glumly.