Author's Note: This chapter is loosely based on the second episode of the first season, The Seance, in which Vanessa Ives meets Dorian Gray for the first time. This chapter is inspired by it although the dialogues, though sometimes similar, will not be the same. This story came to my mind after thinking about how much Dorian Gray was detached from almost all the events of Penny Dreadful. I thought about how would it be if his story were more connected to Vanessa's and this came out. Enjoy!

He knew it was her in an instant. It couldn't have been anyone else. Here stood Vanessa Ives. He knew exactly what he had to do. But what happens when the executioner falls in love with his victim?

...

Dorian Gray was bored, to say the least. The party was tedious. When you are alive for more then one hundred years, these type of thing tend to get a repetitive. That was why he always seeked new pleasures to experience in his immortal life. New things to do and new people to corrupt, new desires to fullfill and new temptations to yield to. He eyed to room to find something remotely interesting. Something to pull him out of this dullness and make his night more interesting. However his efforts were all in vain.

He gently took his ornate glass from the table on which it was resting and started roaming in the luxurious room. He didn't even look at all the women - and men - who were eyeing him in awe in face of his undeniable beauty. No, he didn't look at them. They were boring. Ordinary. Just ordinary people, fascinated by the beautiful face of his. Then he heard the sound of the heavy doors that led to the ballroom.

He didn't want to turn around to look at the newly arrived guest. It was just going to be another man or woman that doesn't worth his attention. But his curiousity got the better of him, maybe deep down he felt something. Maybe somehow he knew that it was that woman. He slowly turned his head in the direction of the recently opened door. There was a woman in front of it, she was looking better than all boring women in the room with her silky brown hair, eyes as green as freshly cut grass and skin so pale and soft to make gods jealous. She wasn't like anyone here, she was different. He knew it was her in an instant. It couldn't have been anyone else. Here stood Vanessa Ives. And, God, was she beautiful. But there was something in her more than her beauty that intrigued Dorian. He knew exactly what he had to do.

He approached her, steps slow but determined, a smile placed on his perfectly shaped lips. He took his time to arrive where she stood. And when he finally did he spoked in a calm but enchanting voice. "My name is Dorian Gray."

He didn't ask her name. He didn't need to. He knew exactly who she was. She told hers anyway. "Vanessa Ives."

Vanessa Ives. He was indeed correct. But hearing her name from her own lips, it was different. The certainity was almost a relief. But it also meant burden. He kept his composure nonetheless.

"Miss. Ives." He gently bowed his head. "A pleasure to meet you."

"And you too, Mr. Gray," was the kind answer.

"I can't help but notice that you are different than the people here, Miss Ives."

"Different? How so?"

"You don't belong here. You aren't like these people who just waste their lives away with luxurious balls, fancy dinner parties and the trivial goal of gaining reputaition, flaunting their wealth and their place in society. No, you are not like them. Tell me, Miss Ives. Why are you here?"

"Why are you here?" Instead of answering she directed the question back at him which caused him to pause for a slight second.

"What do you mean?"

"You don't belong either, Mr. Gray. You and I, we both are different. You tell me, why are you here?"

Dorian Gray just replied with a smile and grabbed another glass from the tray of one of the passing waiters. He extended his arm gently at the direction of Vanessa, allowing her to reach the glass.

"Your hands."

"What about my hands?" Vanessa asked, confused but intrigued about what this charming stranger was gonna say.

"You aren't wearing gloves. Every woman in this room is wearing gloves." His eyes gleamed in amusement at her confusion. He slowly raised his glass.

"To us, Miss. Ives. To being different."