Chapter Four:

Zosia's hand stretched out in the darkness and connected with cold stone. Confused at the unfamiliar sensation, she looked around and realised with growing dread that she was in the Labyrinth again. This time she was naked, and she tried to cover herself up in a panic, turning her back to the wall and quickly glancing all around her.

There was nothing around her, save for the endless walls, the omnipresent blue phosphoresce, and the terrifying, shifting mass of blackness that the corridors led to. However, she could hear things all around her - the sounds of children crying, the screams of pain, the rattling of chains, and - most prominently - a horrifying roar of what sounded like an unearthly musical instrument. It was not constant, but its hellish bellowing came and went on a regular basis.

She sank to her knees, sliding down the wall, oblivious to the cuts the stone sliced into her bare back. Her naked form huddled down onto the sandy ground, curling up behind her legs, her arms hugging her knees tightly. She rocked back and forth, tears streaming freely down her face, dreading each reoccurrence of that other-worldly horn.

All she wanted to do was close her eyes and wake up again in her bedroom. Why was she here? What was the meaning - if any - behind this? The most frightening thought was that there was no explanation behind this - no reason. That this was simply happening to her at the whim of fate, and there was nothing she could do about it.

As the horn sounded yet another blast, a quick glance around her revealed something else - something new. Through the blue haze she could see a shadow - no, not a shadow - more like a beam of light, but a beam of light that was somehow jet black, in defiance of all reason. It was sweeping down the passageway towards her. She wanted to move, to get out of its way, but she found she could not move - either through terror or some other phenomenon, she was rooted to the spot, unable to do anything but wait for the dark beam to pass across her.

When it did so, it was as if her very essence was being torn apart and picked through, as if some malevolent force was searching through the core of her being to uncover her deepest feelings, her darkest secrets, the hidden parts of herself that she had shared with no-one.

And suddenly Zosia knew why she was in the Labyrinth.

"Zosia! Zosia!" The repeated calling of her name shocked Zosia back to consciousness. Disoriented, she tried to get her bearings and realised that she was back in her bedroom, sitting up in bed, her arms tightly clutching her legs close to her body, her face buried between her knees. She was rocking back and forth gently, half-gasping, half sobbing, shaking uncontrollably. Fighting to regain some kind of control, she forced her head to turn towards the voice calling her name. It was Miranda, sitting up in bed next to her, a look of panic on her face. "What's wrong?"

"I..." Zosia tried to catch her breath, tried to unclench her arms from their vice-like grip on her legs, and failed. "Bad dream," she eventually managed to mutter.

"Bad dream? What about?"

"It..." Zosia paused. The revelation that had come to her in the Labyrinth was gone now. "I don't know," she said softly.

"Jesus, you're dripping with sweat." Miranda reached out to touch Zosia's shoulder in comfort, but Zosia instinctively flinched, causing Miranda to draw her hand back in surprise. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I...just..." The effort of trying to speak exhausted Zosia, and she simply broke down into incoherent sobs.

Miranda stared at her for several seconds, as if trying to gauge what the correct response might be. Finally, she leaned over and wrapped her arms around Zosia. "Is this okay?" she whispered. "Is this what you want?"

Zosia nodded quickly. The feel of Miranda's cool skin against her own felt wonderful, as did the soft kisses Miranda kept planting against the top of Zosia's head, and the whispered reassurances that everything was okay. After some time, she felt her limbs begin to unclench themselves, and was able to lie back down in the bed. Miranda pressed her body to Zosia's, embracing her from behind, kissing her shoulder, and taking Zosia's proffered hand in her own, squeezing it comfortingly.

Finally, the sobs stopped, the gasping relented, and Zosia was able to relax, secure in Miranda's arms, until sleep took her again.

For the first time in weeks, the dreams did not trouble her.


Arthur stumbled blearily out of his bedroom, wiping his glasses on his pyjamas before setting them crookedly on his face. He made an immediate beeline to the kitchen-slash-living room, clearly hoping to get some much-needed early morning coffee. However, when he arrived, he saw an unfamiliar face at the kitchen table, causing him to stop in confusion.

"Morning, Digby," said the unfamiliar woman chirpily.

Digby adjusted his glasses and stared at her for a few moments, trying to get his bearings. Finally, he said: "I know you, don't I? You're in radiology."

"Miranda Cowley," she said. "That's right."

"We're...ah...not in radiology right now," he said slowly. "So it's a bit...weird to see you here." He looked around the room worriedly. "I'm not dreaming, am I?"

"I don't think so," said Miranda thoughtfully. "Of course, if I was a figment of your imagination, I would say that."

"Yeessss..." said Arthur uncertainly.

Zosia popped her head around the corner of the kitchen area. "Stop teasing him. Come in, Arthur. You're not dreaming, and there's fresh coffee."

"Oh good." Arthur sat down. "So..."

"Morning!" A chipper voice interrupted him. It was Dominic, who immediately sat himself down at the table, looked at Miranda, looked at Zosia, and made an affected "Hmmmmm" noise.

"Good morning, Doctor Copeland," said Miranda sweetly. "Murdered anyone today yet?"

"Not yet. Getting sort of tempted now, though." Dominic looked over at Zosia. "So...anything exciting to tell us? We don't normally have visitors for breakfast."

"Nothing to tell, really," said Zosia, busying herself at the cooker. "Miranda and I - you don't mind if I tell, do you?" Miranda gave a 'go ahead' gesture. "We were on a date last night. It went really well, and here we are."

"A date?" Arthur processed this and a large grin immediately spread across his face, which he quickly suppressed, leading to an eye roll from Dominic. "Okay. Well...good for you." He looked up and what Zosia was doing and frowned. "Wait, you can cook? I didn't even know you knew how to turn that on."

"I'm full of surprises," said Zosia airily.

"You certainly are," muttered Arthur.

Zosia finished her cooking, and spooned an elaborate omelette onto Miranda's plate, which Miranda thanked her for. Dominic pouted. "You've never made me an omelette."

"You've never spent an amazing night with me," shot back Zosia.

"Thank you," said Miranda.

"Thank you," said Zosia, and leaned over to give her a quick kiss.

"Well, you and I have spent the night and together, and..." Arthur tailed off. "I..ah...I feel I may have...um...said a bit too much there."

"It's okay," said Miranda soothingly. "Zosia told me all about your history."

"She did?" Arthur looked over at Zosia in a panic. "You did?"

"Not all of it," said Zosia defensively. "Just...you know...the gist of it."

"What didn't you tell me?" asked Miranda.

"Let's talk about something else, shall we?" said Arthur quickly, laughing nervously.

"Awkward," said Dominic gleefully. "I have to say, this is one of my personal favourite breakfasts ever, now. Anyone want some more coffee?"

There did not appear to be a great demand for more coffee.


It was a pleasant, warm morning, and Zosia savoured every minute of it as she and Miranda walked through the hospital grounds. "Sorry about breakfast," she said wryly as they passed the peace garden.

"It's fine." Miranda waved her hand dismissively. "Digby's a lot of fun to tease."

"That he is." Zosia paused. "Um," she said nervously. "Also, thanks for last night."

"Well, I aim to please..."

"Not just that..."

"I know." Miranda looked at Zosia, a look of concern on her face. "You okay? You were pretty out of it last night."

"I haven't been sleeping well lately. Just...bad dreams."

"Do you remember what they're about?"

"No," Zosia lied. She might not remember specifics, but she remembered plenty of small details. It was not a subject she wanted to talk about.

"Okay...you ever think of talking to someone about it? It could help..."

"I'll think about it."

"Good." Miranda clearly sensed this was not a subject Zosia wanted to discuss, so she dropped it. "Can I ask you something else? Feel free to say no..."

"Go ahead."

"Last night...when I went to comfort you...it was like you didn't want to be touched. And after we...you know...you just rolled over and went to sleep - no cuddling. I thought it might be me, but..."

"It's not you," said Zosia quickly. "I'm sorry if I gave you that impression. It's just..." She paused, considering how best to put it.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't feel comfortable."

"No, no...I want to tell you. It's...look, most of my sexual encounters have been pretty...dispassionate." At Miranda's look, she quickly added: "Last night aside, of course."

"Naturally."

"I like to keep things casual, so I don't usually like to cuddle or...you know, anything too intimate." Zosia paused and laughed nervously. "Is this making me sound like a massive bitch? I feel like it is."

They were almost at the entrance now. Miranda stopped, turned to Zosia, and took her hands. "If it makes you feel any better, I don't think you're a massive bitch."

Zosia grinned. "Thank you. But last night...when you held me, and when I fell asleep in your arms...that's not something I normally do."

"Okay." Miranda nodded. "I think I get it."

"What can I say?" Zosia shrugged awkwardly. "I'm a fuck-up. And last night...I'm glad you held me. I'm glad I fell asleep in your arms. It felt...right."

"Yeah." Miranda met Zosia's glance for an instant, grinned nervously, then glanced down. "Um...it felt right for me too."

"I want to see you again." Zosia hadn't meant to blurt it out that bluntly, but she meant it. "I mean, if you want to. Go out again, I mean. Or stay in. I don't mind."

A large, joyous smile spread across Miranda's face. "Yes!" she said happily. "I mean, yes - I'd love to see you again."

"Great!" Zosia and Miranda looked at each other for a moment, then fell into a kiss. As they separated, Zosia noticed her father over her shoulder, talking to Arthur at the doorway and suddenly looking at them very intently. She smiled at Miranda. "So...this is where I go in."

"Okay." Miranda leaned forward and kissed her lightly again. "Call me, okay?"

"Count on it." Zosia watched Miranda leave with a smile, then walked towards the entrance and her father. Arthur was clearly asking him something, but Guy's attention was solely on Zosia.

Without looking away from Zosia, Guy spoke to Arthur: "If you're looking for some research, Dr. Digby, look up the notes of Dr. Philip Channard. Finest neurosurgeon I ever worked with."

"Channard. Got it." Arthur followed Guy's eyeline, and saw Zosia. "Oh! Morning. Again."

"Arthur. Dad." Zosia swept by them both, not stopping. Her father was not to be dissuaded, however, and he followed her, with Digby scurrying to catch up. Zosia called the lift, and to her relief, the doors opened instantly. However, her father was too fast, and he made it in as well before the doors closed.

Digby also made it to the lift, but Guy held a hand up before he could come in. "You should probably get the next one, Digby."

"Next one. Right." The doors closed on him, and the lift began its ascent. Zosia kept her eyes perfectly level and stayed silent, but Guy cut through that silence right away.

"So...your latest romantic partner is a bit of a departure, isn't it?" said Guy lightly. "I must say, I didn't see that one coming."

Zosia sighed irritably. "Since you'll just interrogate everyone until you find out what you want to know, I'll tell you. Her name is Dr. Cowley, she works in radiology, we went out last night, and I'm planning to go out with her again."

"Well, whatever works for you, I suppose."

"One more thing." Zosia glared at her father. "If you and Uncle Jessie could manage not to intimidate or threaten this one, it would be really nice."

Guy smirked. "Would we do that?"

"You have done that. Many, many times. Even for people I wasn't with anymore!" She shook her head. "Poor Arthur. I saw him in the canteen that day - he looked like someone had threatened to kill his dog."

"Banter, darling, harmless banter," said Guy silkily.

Zosia kept glaring. "I mean it - I can handle my own relationships - please stay out of this one."

"Okay, okay." Guy smiled at her. "Whatever makes you happy, that's my motto."

Don't I know it, thought Zosia ruefully as the lift doors opened. She gave her father a terse smile and stepped out onto the ward.


The next few weeks were unusual for Zosia. She had meant what she'd said - she really did want to see Miranda again, and so they went out again, and then again, and then they just began spending time together after work without needing to go out on specific dates, and pretty soon they were spending a good amount of their free time together. Eventually, Zosia realised to her surprise that they were, in fact, an actual couple - a concept that was quite foreign to her. Almost all of her relationships had been strictly casual, and usually strictly sexual. But with Miranda, it was different. Of course, the sex was amazing, there was no denying that, but it was so much more. She enjoyed just being with her, spending time in the same room with her, not even having to talk - just enjoying her company. Lying in her arms at the end of a long day was simply heaven.

If she had to be honest, the intimacy still frightened Zosia a little. She was so used to keeping her lovers at a distance, of never letting them really know her, that to be in a relationship that was growing more serious by the day was a little intimidating. She hadn't told Miranda of her fears - Zosia didn't want to scare her away with more of her foibles - this was something Zosia just had to work through. On the whole, though, Zosia felt that her life was going incredibly well again. The dreams had ceased - her nights were peaceful now, held in the soft, reassuring arms of Miranda.

Emboldened by how well her life was going, and full of confidence, Zosia finally felt ready to face her mother's diary. It had been sitting at the bottom of a drawer in her room, buried under some clothes ever since she had gone to the family home. Today, however, she was ready to finally unearth it.

She took it to the hospital with her, and when her break rolled around, she made her excuses to Dominic and Arthur, and headed outside to start. Finding a handy bench, she sat down, lit a cigarette (sadly, spending so much time with Miranda meant that any attempt to re-quit smoking was doomed to failure), and began reading.

Her mother's words were instantly recognisable - Anya had always had such a gift for language, whether in Polish or English. Zosia had tried, after she had died, to write down some of her wisdom, but it never sounded like her mother - it always sounded like Zosia.

The diary began several months back, and to start with, was fairly unremarkable stuff. It was when Zosia was away at school, getting ready for her final exams, and her mother seemed very concerned about whether she'd been preparing enough for them - concerned that perhaps Zosia's occasional hedonism would get in the way. Zosia smiled ruefully - her mother had known her too well - although she didn't seem to suspect half of what she'd gotten up to at school. Perhaps that was for the best, though.

Zosia smiled as she read through her mother's thoughts on her choice of career, how proud she was of Zosia's accomplishments, and how great of a doctor she thought Zosia would be. Tears sprang to her eyes as she read that, memories of her mother's encouragement, and how her belief in Zosia had helped her so much over the years, flashing into her head. That was what she missed the most, thought Zosia - how Anya could make Zosia believe she could do anything, how Anya could defuse any problem with a few well-chosen words, and above all, how connected she made Zosia feel. She always knew how to make Zosia feel like she was part of something much greater than herself, that she was not alone, that she would never be alone.

Tears were streaming down her face now, and she set the diary down to wipe them away. Taking a deep breath, she composed herself, lit another cigarette, and was ready to pick the diary back up when she heard a familiar voice behind her.

"Thought you'd given up?" It was Colette, walking across the grass to the bench.

"Oh, please," said Zosia defensively. "This is my first relapse. I've known you for, what, fifteen years? How many relapses have you had? Well into double figures, I think."

"Point taken," said Colette, sitting down opposite her, eyeing the packet and lighter.

"Anyway," said Zosia, ignoring the obvious hint, "you're on the e-cigs, right? They're just as good, aren't they? Bet you don't miss the real thing at all."

Colette scowled. "Are you going to give me one, or am I going to have to kill you and take them by force?"

Zosia gestured to the packet, and Colette lit up. Exhaling a plume of smoke appreciatively, she gestured over to the diary. "What's that?"

"Just some light reading," said Zosia evasively. When Colette reached for it, she quickly snatched it away, causing Colette to jerk back in shock.

"Seems light, all right! What's up with you?"

"Sorry." Zosia sighed. "Okay...it's Mama's diary. Her...last diary."

"Oh." Colette paused awkwardly. "Sorry. Um...found anything interesting? Sorry, that was a stupid thing to say."

"Well, I found a bit that wishes I'd stop smoking...so I sort of feel bad now." Zosia smiled crookedly and took a drag of her cigarette. "Colette...please don't tell my father that I have this."

"Why?" Colette's face fell. "Zosh, did you steal this?"

"No! Well...sort of. I just...went to the house when he wasn't there, and took it." Zosia winced as she heard itself.

"When you take something and don't tell anyone, they call that stealing, you know."

"Colette, please," pleaded Zosia. "I know this puts you in a rough position, but I need this. I just...there was just so much I missed, and this will fill in the gaps...probably..."

Colette sighed. "Okay. Guy will kill me when he finds out, you know that?" She shook her head. "You always did have a way of bending people to your will, didn't you? Like father, like daughter."

Zosia gave a small smile. "Thank you," she said softly, always feeling awkward whenever she had to be totally sincere with someone. Colette ground out her cigarette, rubbed Zosia's shoulder supportively, and left her to her reading.


The diary practically dominated Zosia's leisure time from then on. Her mother had always been a diligent diarist, very rarely missing a day. All of her thoughts, her activities were recorded for Zosia to go through - a fact for which she was immensely grateful. Having these entries made her feel like she almost had her mother back again - she could practically hear her mother's voice dictating the entries as she read.

Having this at her fingertips meant she hadn't felt the need to trouble her father again about the subject, for which she (and probably him) was very glad. He obviously did not want to talk about the subject, and Zosia wasn't in the mood for another shouting match.

Unfortunately, the detail of the diary entries was a downside when it hit a certain point - the point at which her mother learned that the cancer had returned. When Zosia hit that point, she was in the staff room on Keller, on her break, and a growing knot of tension was in the pit of her stomach as she read about her mother documenting the symptoms, knowing full well what the diagnosis would be. Her mother had known as well, judging from the tone of the entries, but had seemed reluctant to put it down in black and white until she was sure - perhaps hoping that all the signs were wrong, but knowing that they were not.

Zosia closed the diary before she reached the diagnosis - she was already feeling the back of her throat constricting, and she knew that if she read that part she would be in tears. That was something she wanted to avoid at work - or at least, something she didn't care to repeat at work.

As she placed the diary back in her bag, the staff room door opened, and Arthur poked his head through. "Ah! There you are. Come on - break time's over."

Zosia took a deep breath, made sure she was composed, and got up to join him. "All ready for you - what have we got?"

"Okay." Arthur lead her out onto the main ward. "In bed six, we've got a gentleman - no name, think he's homeless, suffered a nasty fall." He handed her the notes. "All yours."

"You always know how to show a girl a good time," said Zosia with a smirk. She glanced at the notes as she walked over to the bed. "So...have we got a name, mister..?" She lowered the notes and took a look at the patient. He certainly seemed homeless - he was unshaven and unkempt, long hair coming out from below his woollen hat. His face was filthy and appeared to be covered with scratches and scrapes of uncertain origin. His clothes were torn and ragged, and there was a ungodly stench coming from him - almost like rotting flesh. Zosia involuntarily gagged as she approached, but tried to stay professional.

"No name?" she asked again, to no reply. "Okay then - let's take a look at your leg - I hear you went over on it pretty badly..." Still no answer. Zosia moved to examine the leg, but before she could do so, she noticed the man's eyes. They were blue - a piercing, intense, almost unearthly blue - and staring straight at her. It was extremely unnerving, especially coupled with the continued silence.

No matter where Zosia moved, the man's gaze remained rock-solid on her. "I'm just going to move this bit of clothing here," she said nervously, trying to dispel the feeling of dread she was having. The stare was causing her stomach to churn now, and she didn't know why - maybe because its intensity was bordering on the frightening now?

As she moved the man's coat to look at the leg, a swarm of insects suddenly rushed out from beneath the coat, swarming over the man, the bed, and her hand. Reflexively, she screamed and jumped backwards, shaking her hand to throw the bugs off. The man stood from the bed and walked towards her, his piercing gaze never leaving her, insects falling and crawling from the man's clothes.

Zosia stumbled backwards, losing her balance and falling to the ground. She cried out in pain, and scrambled backwards, trying desperately to escape the ever-approaching man.

She heard her name called from the other side of the ward, and looked over to see Arthur rushing towards her. "What's wrong?" he asked in a worried tone. "Why did you fall over?"

"Get him away from me!" she hissed, gesturing to the man. However, as she did so, she noticed that he had gone, as had his army of insects. Mouth agape, she climbed to her feet, ignoring Arthur's questions. "He's gone," she said cautiously.

"Who's gone?" demanded Arthur. "Zosia, what's going on? You're falling over, and...and screaming, and all the patients are staring at us."

Zosia turned to Arthur. "That patient - the homeless man - he was staring at me, and there were swarms of insects, and..."

"I don't see any insects...wait, was he threatening you?"

"Yes! Well, sort of...it was intimidating, and weird...and..."

"Okay. Um...I'll get security, and...right." Arthur ran off, leaving Zosia standing in the middle of the ward. She rubbed her forehead, trying to get her breath back. She glanced around quickly, making sure she couldn't see any trace of the man, but he was nowhere to be found. However, Arthur was right - the patients were all staring at her. Feeling incredibly self-conscious, she quickly made for the staff room to try to pull herself together.


"So they didn't find him?" asked Miranda with a frown. "He just...vanished?"

Zosia nodded, and downed her shot. "Security searched all over - they couldn't find him. And...he had a busted leg, apparently - I mean, that's what Arthur said. He couldn't have gotten far. And...and...the insects! What was that all about? They were just..swarming all over him!" She gestured to the bartender for another drink. She'd arranged to meet Miranda at Albie's after the shift, even before the incident with the homeless man, and was doubly glad of that now.

"Poor baby," said Miranda softly, kissing her on the top of the head. "What did you do with the insects? Bet the cleaning staff loved cleaning that up."

"They...they just disappeared," said Zosia quietly.

"What, like scurried under the beds?"

"No, I mean disappeared. As in, without a trace."

Miranda frowned. "That doesn't seem possible."

"Believe me, I know. I spent most of the rest of the afternoon convincing Arthur and Mr. Levy I wasn't crazy."

"Is it possible," said Miranda tentatively, "that maybe you were scared, and thought you saw more insects than there actually were?"

"I'm not making this up!" snapped Zosia, as the bartender arrived with another round of shots. She grabbed one and instantly downed it.

"Whoa, whoa, calm down," said Miranda, taking one of Zosia's hands gently. "I'm not suggesting that. But you know, sometimes when we're stressed, and things are getting to us...we sometimes see things that aren't there."

Zosia looked over at Miranda and smiled gratefully. "I'm sorry for snapping at you. Do you think I'm stressed?"

"You're always stressed," said Miranda with a grin. "But lately...yeah, I think you are. I think you're obsessing too much over that diary. I know that you want to understand everything that happened with your mum, but...sometimes I'm worried that it's occupying too much of your time."

"I always make time for you, don't I?" Zosia leaned over and kissed Miranda softly on the lips.

"For which I'm very grateful for." Miranda stroked Zosia's face gently. "But...and I don't mean to tell you what to do...maybe you could take a break from it for a while."

"I need to know," whispered Zosia pleadingly. "I need to know what I missed, and I can't talk to my father about it...and no-one else knows. I even missed the funeral."

"I know, I know," said Miranda softly. "Maybe it's time to take a new approach, then?"

"I don't understand."

"The funeral. If you can't talk to your dad about it, and no-one else is telling you much - then try the funeral directors. I'm sure they have records about it - you know, the order of service, that sort of thing - they might even have recorded it. I don't really know how these things work."

Zosia thought about it - that actually seemed like a very good idea. Colette hadn't been able to tell her much about the service, and her father wasn't really up for talking, so this might be her best approach. The funeral was - apart from the chance to say goodbye - the thing she regretted missing the most, so a chance to relive it in a way was too good to pass up. She smiled at Miranda. "You know, you're not just a pretty face."

"I bet you say that to all the girls." Miranda gazed at Zosia for a moment. "You know...you have a beautiful smile - has anyone ever told you that?"

Zosia frowned. "Not that I can recall."

"Not the smug smirk you usually have..."

"Hey..."

"...but when you genuinely, honestly smile...it just lights your face up."

Zosia didn't know what to say to that. "Maybe it's because...I just don't smile like that very often."

"You should."

"If you keep treating me the way you have been...then I think I might be smiling like that a lot more in the future." Zosia leaned over again and the two women's lips met again. They remained that way, in each other's arms, oblivious to everyone else in the bar.