Elena's alarm started to scream in her ears, startling her from her peaceful sleep. God, why? She stopped the noise and clambered from her bed. Her dream rang loudly in her mind, every detail there as if she lived it. And she did only months before. She looked to the ring mounted on her hand, right where Damon had left it. A symbol of his loyalty to her, of his love, and his intent to be with her for the rest of their days. And never would she take it off. Whatever became of this. She pulled herself from the confines of her warm bed and quickly made it. The house was empty, silent all but her movements. Another day. She shuddered, folding herself into her robe and trying to evade the chill that still somehow found itself into her house. Hung from the doorframe was the black pencil skirt and white blouse she'd laid out the night before. The most formal thing she had that wasn't too small now, much like the rest of her closet. While the swell in her abdomen might not be noticeable to anyone else, it was to her. The thought gave her her first smile of the day, and she sat at the vanity as she did. Today would be a good day, because she was sure that something good was going to happen, at some point. Today was the day she had prayed for a month for, and it was really a /great/ day. She didn't want to be negative. She was optimistic. Hopeful. Almost positive that this would be what would help Damon. Help her. She told herself that, if anything, she was trying. That was all she could do. And hard enough, it might prove rewarding. God, did she hope so.

Somewhere, an air conditioner kicked into cooling the waiting room off more than it already was. It was silent, all but the sound of the occasional phone call and the shuffling of the papers on the secretary's desk. She would clear her throat, like she had something stuck in it. But to Elena it sounded like she was doing it in her direction, though she knew otherwise. She sat in this lobby, in the seat of an old Victorian parlor chair that looked like it had seen better days. She would shift in it, and it would squeak in obstinate reprove, making Elena that much more hesitant to budge a muscle even though the skirt she wore was making her feel uncomfortable as hell. Every breath felt like she was expanding like a balloon. Another breath, another notch tighter.

Rebekah had called Elena back the day after the margarita party, first thing in the morning after the get-together they had. It still baffled Elena that she just got Mikaelson to agree with a wave of her hand (it seemed.). If Elena wanted a decent bit of time, she was told, she could come in at 8 to make her case. It thrilled her. She'd spent the night before gathering and organizing every file she had on Damon and his health history, from his enlistment to his Purple Heart, down to the concussion and the wounded leg and the latest recommendation that he not be involved overseas anymore. It was pages and pages, and by the time she'd finished it all, she felt she had a solid case to present to him. Now, as she tapped a finger on the portfolio, waiting for his door to open, she wondered if it was substantial. She was in the waiting room of a government official, someone who could validate whether or not this was a case he could or would further up. Was all this enough? It had to be because it was all she had, and he was standing in the doorway she'd not even heard open, beckoning her in. She felt numb with nervousness, like her fingers were made of rubber. She held the files to her, took a breath, and followed him into the next room.

He sat at a broad, wooden desk, flourishing a palm in invitation to sit across from him. She did, and was thankful to find that this chair wasn't squeaky at all. Mikaelson watched her as she primly laid her files on his desk, opened them, and pulled them out of their organized sanctuary. She had highlighted and tabbed sections of almost every page, being sure that everything important was there for him to take into account.

"You came prepared, Miss Salvatore," he noted fondly as he took them from her.

"I wanted to give my best statement," she replied. He could hear the tiny quake of nervousness, but she didn't let it reflect at all in her demeanor.

"And what is your statement?"

"That my fiancé, Damon Salvatore, isn't medically fit for combat overseas, Mr. Mikaelson."

"Please, call me Elijah. I appreciate the formality, but I want us to discuss this a little more casually." He skimmed the pages, and Elena could see his eyes land on every tab she'd applied. "I understand. I've had, and have, family that serve. It can be hard at times."

She nodded. "It is, Mis—Elijah. Believe me, I know."

"How many times has Damon been deployed?" He leaned back in his heavy leather chair, steepling his fingers as he waited.

"Four. This is his fifth. Afghanistan, Iraq. He was a combat soldier all four times."

"Every time?" Elena found a page, tabbed with markers at the edge of the page to point out every date, deployment to return, every extension he'd taken. He glanced over it, but turned his attention back to Elena.

"He's served diligently."

"He loved the Army. I mean, I guess he still does."

"Why do you think he isn't fit to serve anymore, Elena?" Again, she returned to her pile of papers, but Elijah didn't approve. He held out a hand to signal her to stop, and she did, looking confused. Had she offended him? She was suddenly terrified.

"I don't want to see papers right now, Elena. I want to hear it from you, and I want to understand your side. As a wife."

And so Elena delved into the story of the last three months of her life; of how Damon lost his memory and had to relearn the last seven years of his life in a matter of weeks, and even now he was still learning. As she recounted all of this, she couldn't help but be proud of the astounding progress that Damon had made in such a small space of time. They both had. Elijah seemed intrigued at such a story, pausing her in her sentences to be sure he heard her correctly, writing down some random things. Almost as if this were a shrink session instead of a proposal to a congressman.

"I don't think he should have gone either, Elena," Elijah stated as she finished her speech, feeling exhausted by the end. "I think that this is a misuse of communication, and I don't think you or your husband should have to suffer for it."

"I don't want it to sound as if I don't appreciate the Armed Forces. I do. I just—I don't feel that he's been treated fairly."

"I understand that. Especially since you've told the facts to me. I'm sorry about this. Truly."

"So can you help me?" He didn't answer right away. It made Elena recall the pep talk she'd given herself the night before: If this didn't succeed, at least she had tried. And that's all you can do.

"He has served diligently," he repeated, sitting up in his chair. He reached across to her pile of paperwork, sliding it across the mahogany surface to him as if to revise it. "As have you." She looked at him confused. What had he said?

"As a wife of a military man, I see you just as much servants for our country as I do the soldiers themselves. You let your husband leave you to jump into the line of fire to keep us safe. And he may not even return home alive. That's a sacrifice as much as any. You're one of the strongest I've ever met, Elena. Half your relationship he's been at work for us. I commend you for that, and for contacting me about this. I want to help you, and I'll do everything I can to do so. But please, don't take this as a promise."

"This means so much, Elijah. Thank you."

"I couldn't say no to the little bit that Rebekah told me over the phone. I felt like I should listen. I don't regret it. I have a brother overseas. It's not easy wondering about him all the time."

"Kol?" Elijah rose an intrigued brow.

"You know him?" Elena rolled her eyes and replied a little flatly,

"Yeah. He's more Damon's friend than mine."

"Well, I'm sorry. Either way." He chuckled a little and stood. "I'll have Katherine call you in a few days. Alright?" Elena nodded, tears of excitement starting somewhere behind her eyes. She took his outstretched hand and shook it firmly, gratefully, and said the only words she could manage to form.

"Thank you."

It took her half of the trip home to remember to call anyone. But of all people, she knew one that would be the most excited to hear such news. She hadn't even told him about Rebekah or the favor she'd done; she hadn't had the time. She was glad she didn't immediately receive a no, but that Elijah wanted to help. And she hoped like hell he would be able to do what she asked of him. She tapped on numbers as she came to a stoplight, and the phone rang. And rang. And rang. It felt like an eternity before it finally stopped and someone finally spoke on the other end.

"Stefan Salvatore speaking," he finally said, formally, like he did when he was on business. Sometimes he didn't even sound himself when he spoke that way.

"Stefan! I'm so glad you answered!" she exclaimed, about to come out of her driver's seat with excitement.

"Why? What's wrong?"

"Nothing! I have to tell you. Stefan, I talked to Elijah Mikaelson." Pause.

"The /congressman?/"

"Yes! And—he's going to try to discharge Damon." There was silence on the other end of the line. He was either stunned or the line had died. She wasn't sure which.

"What?"

"Yes, Stefan! He's going to try!" Elena's eyes were glistening with tears now. She didn't want to sound so excited, but she was. Just being able to get this far was a milestone. "He said no promises, but God, Stefan, I think we're really close."

"Elena, that's—wow. I think you're possibly the best girlfriend ever and you're not even mine." He chuckled. "When will we know? Have you told Damon?"

"In a few days," she answered, "But please don't say anything. I don't want to get his hopes up."

"No word from me. But do keep me posted." She could hear the joy in his voice too.

"I will," she nodded as she parked in the drive. Bonnie was just getting home herself, and she spotted Elena as she left her SUV.

"And Elena: thank you," he said softly. She wished he were there to hug him, but all she could do was smile.