Find Me

Chapter Three

Persia sat in the window seat with a book when she saw Damon walk unsteadily up the path to her front door. She sighed to herself and went to open the door. He knocked once before she opened it, looking bemused.

"Would it be cliché to say I was in the neighborhood and brought your mail," he asked, holding a pile of envelopes out to her. He was more drunk than not, but still sober enough to know what he was doing. Persia took the mail from him and sighed again.

"Yes, it would. What can I do for you, Damon?" He raised an eyebrow.

"So they finally got around to telling you who I am..." He sighed heavily, the scent of alcohol on his breath touching her face.

"I asked." He raised his eyebrows at her.

"Can I come in," he asked with a smirk. Persia opened the door and stood to the side a bit.

"Yes, Damon, you can come in." He stood up straight, his eyes round.

"Just like that? You're actually letting me in? Why," he asked, feeling almost panicked; what if he hurt her? He hadn't expected her to let him in at all, but rather to slam the door in his face.

"Because I don't want to be afraid of you. Come on, the kitchen is this way; I'll get you some coffee." She turned her back on him- actually turned her back- and walked away. Damon followed her, closing the door with a soft shove.

"You're not nearly afraid enough to survive in this town." Persia snorted, but didn't explain. She poured him a cup of coffee and went to the fridge.

"Do you take cream in your coffee?"

"No, black is fine," he said and grabbed the mug from the counter while she poured a second cup and sat down opposite him at the counter.

"Why do you want my ring, Damon?" He took a long, slow sip of the coffee, thinking of how to phrase his response, and then put the mug down. He looked her in the eye as he answered her.

"Because I've seen it before and I can't remember exactly where, but I remember it was important somehow. I'd like to remember."

"Interesting," she answered, taking a sip of her coffee without meeting his eyes.

"You aren't going to give it to me, are you?" Persia looked up at him and smiled sardonically.

"No, Mister Salvatore, I have no intention of giving you my ring."

"Ah," Damon said. "Well, I guess I'd better go. Thank you for the coffee." He got up and started to walk away. Persia wasn't quite ready for him to leave yet... this Damon wasn't scary, he was almost likeable.

"Damon." He turned back to her, his face blank. "If you can remember anything about the first time you saw it, I might be able to find something out." Damon squinted at her, trying to figure her out. He walked back to the chair and sat down again.

"I don't remember much about it. I didn't pay much attention to it- I was more interested in my next meal at the time, but it was over one hundred years ago that I saw it. I remember being shocked to see it, because the person wearing it wasn't supposed to exist, or was supposed to be dead, or something like that. It was weird that I even noticed it, like I was meant to know they were there."" Persia nodded.

"Okay, what was the context?" Damon looked into his coffee, thinking of the day he'd seen it.

"All I can remember is that I was following someone- maybe in Philadelphia- waiting for a chance to take her when I saw someone going the other direction with the ring on." He noticed her shudder and looked up at her, his trademark smirk in place.

"Too gruesome for you," he asked sarcastically. She leveled him with a stare that could have stopped his heart, had it still been beating.

"No, it's sad. To have lost so much of what made you who you were before this... I think I'd have liked the living Damon better." Her words stung him.

"You don't like me," he asked, not sure if he was truly offended or if that remark actually hurt.

"You've been sneaking around my house for weeks, thinking I didn't see you, following me when I'm not home... you can see where I'd be more concerned with my safety than your feelings after I found out what you are, right?" Speaking without thinking, Damon blurted out his next thought.

"I dreamed of you. Before you got to Mystic Falls. So when I found you in the woods that night, I was a little freaked out. That's why I've been following you." They were both silent for a minute before Persia spoke, a flush pinking her cheeks as she did.

"I dreamed of you, too, the night I got here. But you were angry, so when I saw you in the woods, I was afraid." Damon looked up at her with a sad, sarcastic smile.

"Don't take it personally- I'm always angry." They sat in silence again, neither one in a hurry to speak, but rather enjoying the silent company.

For the first time in months, Damon wasn't on the verge of losing control. He'd been worried that he might hurt Persia, but he hadn't had the urge to hurt her once since she'd opened the door. Several long minutes passed before he sighed and stood up.

"Thanks for your help, but I think I'd better go now. I'll let you know if I remember anything else about your ring."

"Okay," she said softly. Damon strode from the house, closing the door so softly behind him that Persia didn't even hear it. She tried to remember everything she'd been told about the ring her grandfather had given her, but all she could remember was that it was a family heirloom, passed down from parent to child, usually, but her mother had refused to wear it because she didn't believe the family superstition that the ring would mark the wearer as special.

Special how, she wondered. She chewed on her bottom lip unconsciously and wished that her grandfather was still alive to tell her more about the ring, and why someone like Damon Salvatore would want it.