A/N: Hello dear readers! I apologize for the delay in updating, as I was recovering from eye surgery and dealing with family drama *inserting eye roll* but all is well now, and I am happy to be back with this story;) This chapter is going to be from Ethan's POV and I am also introducing a new character, of whom I hope you all will like:)

Don't be shy about putting in your input; I'm always looking to improve, and I love hearing from you guys!

Happy Reading and R&R!

Disclaimer: I do not own Penny Dreadful. All Rights to John Logan and his brilliant mind.

Vanessa sits in the chair across from me, sipping her tea absentmindedly. The orange light of the fire is enveloping her ebony hair in a warm glow, sending the shadow of her silhouette, dancing across the wall. It is just after dawn and having been too keyed up to try and sleep after last night's occurrences, Vanessa set the kettle, while I tended to the fire. The storm had left the sky bleak and the air bitter.

Seems fitting, I think wryly.

One battle fought and another takes its place. A never ending cycle.

Will we ever have a moment's peace?

At least, this time, we have somewhat of an advantage. We know the Demon is by some means unable to take full control of Vanessa. What's blocking him from her, we don't know, but I'll be damned if I let her get taken away again. We'll be ready this time. All of us.

I'm pulled from my thoughts by a raspy voice.

"I must apologize for my actions last night; It was very aberrant of me."

I turn to look at her; it's the first time she's spoken since coming down stairs, and she won't meet my gaze.

I blink. She's ashamed.

My heart breaks for her a little at the realization. Here is a woman, who has been hunted and violated, in more ways than one, by searching forces, not of this world and has still managed to pick herself up every day and keep going. And yet she's embarrassed by seeking comfort from the darkness of a dream.

I cross the room and kneel in front of her, gently tipping her chin towards me.

"Look at me." I murmur, searching her face. The skin at her jaw is slightly discolored with developing bruises.

They will be worse tomorrow, I think, gently soothing my index finger across one.

Swallowing hard, I pushing back the anger bubbling up inside me at the sight of them.

She blinks, lashes wet with tears. One makes its way down her pastel cheek, and I watch as it lightly drops onto the hand I have at her jawline.

"Vanessa." I breathe.

The desperation I feel must be evident in my voice because she finally raises those stormy blues to meet mine.

"Listen to me. Don't ever be ashamed of wanting solace, of wanting to feel something. Not with me, not ever." Taking my hand from her face, I clasp it over her folded ones and whisper, "You've been lonely for far too long."

She lets out a shaky breath at the truth of my words, and I continue.

"Let me in. I am here to oppose this darkness with you. There's no need to bare it alone any longer." I need her to know I'm in this with her for the long run. That I won't be going anywhere.

She gives me a small nod, letting me know she understands. Her watery eyes are sad, and they express more than any words ever could. She's tired. Tired of the constant battle within her.

I immediately sit next to her pulling her thin frame against my chest to where she's almost in my lap. I stroke her hair and she clutches my arm, burying her cheek against my linen shirt, taking the comfort I offer.

OooooooooO

We must have fallen asleep because the next thing I know, I'm being shaken awake by Sir Malcolm, who then silently gestures me into the kitchen. I notice the morning light has faded into that of dusk.

We slept all day.

Dragging a hand over my face, I look down at the woman next to me, her legs are tangled with mine and the arm she's laying on has fallen asleep.

Quietly and with great care I manage to detangle myself, placing her shawl back over her shoulders. The fire has long been out, and the room is now chilled by the autumn air.

When I enter the kitchen, I find Sir Malcolm preparing three cups of tea.

I frown, my brain fuzzy from sleep. Why three if Vanessa is still sleeping?

"Ethan," I look up from the cups and into the older man's eyes. "There is someone I'd like you to meet."

Ah, that must be who the third cup is for. And his reason for going into town.

Sir Malcolm nods, his eyes focusing on someone behind my shoulder.

"This is Aseema. She will be staying with us for the time being."

I turn, following his gaze.

Startling at the figure before me I take a step back and glance at Sir Malcolm who is watching me carefully, gauging my reaction.

"You must be Ethan Chandler." The girl says in a softly accented voice. "I've heard a lot about you, Sir."

I don't say anything. I can't say anything; the words stick in my throat.

She's young, probably a few years younger than Vanessa. There are strange markings, a tattoo of sorts, running from her temples down to her neck, then disappearing into the collar of her dress. But it's her eyes that astonish me. They are a dark brown. Familiar. And they look like they have been around for a hundred years. I only knew one other person with eyes like that. And that person is gone, because of me. Dead. Buried in the African dirt.

Sembene.

It is like looking at a ghost.

"Sembene was my Father," Aseema reveals as if reading my thoughts. And from the way she's watching me, I am almost convinced she can. "He wrote about you in his letters to me. All of you." She glances to the main room where Vanessa sleeps.

I clear my throat and take a seat in the chair nearest to me.

"I never knew he had a daughter." I look over to Sir Malcolm. "Did you?"

He shakes his head.

"Sembene was a private man. I did not know until a year after he had come to London with me."

Aseema joins me at the table, clasping her hands around her cup.

"I assume you know of my Fathers previous employment, before coming here?" She asks.

I nod, encouraging her to continue.

"When I was but twelve years old, our village was raided. Father worked just outside the village, as a fisherman, so he was not home when they attacked. They took my Mother and me. We were separated, auctioned off to buyers from around the globe. I never saw her again. Word is she died before the ship she was on even made it to America." She pauses, taking a deep breath. "I got lucky. I was bought by a wealthy Frenchmen and was taken to a house in the country, where I became his house maid. The work was hard, but I was never treated too harshly. After two years, there became word from the others slaves that there was a man inquiring about someone with my name. A slave trader."

So that must have been the reason behind it. To find his daughter.

"It took one more year for him to find me. When he did, my owner set a value for my freedom. A significant value, much more than my Father could ever afford. Taking sympathy, my master allowed us to converse through letters until my Father could come up with the sum." Aseema looks to Sir Malcolm, a small smile gracing her mouth. "And that's when he met you. After moving to London, he would send whatever he could back. It took years but finally I was free. And then I got the letter telling me of his passing. That's when I encountered Sir Malcolm. He paid for my passage here, once the fog cleared, you see."

I look down at my hands, digging my nails into the skin of my palm. Guilt spreads through me like a flesh eating virus, and I look up to the young girl, an apology on the tip of my tongue. She stops me, though, before I can and raises her left hand to her heart.

"I know." Is all she says.

How she knows, I cannot say but from the sad smile on her marked face, I know she does not blame me.

It doesn't make the guilt any less, though.

No one says anything for a while after that. We sit in silence; the only sounds are the clinking of the china against their saucers.

"May I see her?"

I understand immediately who she is referring to.

Vanessa.

I look to Sir Malcolm, waiting for him to answer her, but find him looking to me. Glancing to Aseema, I realize she is not asking Malcolm, she is asking me.

I nod, "Yes, but she is sleeping maybe—"

"It matters not." She interrupts. Pushing herself up from the table she walks into the room where the woman in question is resting.

Sir Malcolm and I quickly follow suite.

OooooooooO

Vanessa is just as I left her. She looks peaceful; her dark locks are curled around her face, and she has one arm thrown above her head.

I feel like chuckling; she would be mortified if she knew we were all observing her in slumber.

Turning my attention back to our new guest, I watch as she kneels quietly in front of Vanessa. For a few moments, she just sits there, observing until she closes her eyes and puts a small hand to Vanessa's forehead.

Vanessa lets out a small whimper but doesn't wake.

I frown, what is she doing?

My eyes are only on Vanessa now, watching her reaction. Her face scrunches up this time, and Aseema gently runs a hand down the length of her face, as if washing away something. Her face immediately relaxes, and Vanessa lets out a long sigh. Aseema then ceases her ministrations and turns her head up to look at me. She has a look in her eye, which does not go unnoticed by me and she gives me a thoughtful smile.

"You love her very much."

It's a statement, not a question, and it takes me by surprise.

I don't know what I was expecting, but it definitely wasn't that.

I feel Sir Malcolm's stare, but I ignore it.

"Yes," I say, but I'm not looking at either of them, my only focus is on the sleeping woman before us. "If there is only one thing I am sure of in this dreadful world, it is that."

A/N: So there's chapter 6! I hope you all liked the new character:) and if you have any questions, please feel free to ask away!

Also, I know there wasn't much dialogue for Vanessa this chapter, but do not fret! The next one will be from her POV, and we get to hear her thoughts on their new guest! ;)

Until next chapter!

-S