Few Hearts Survive
By: MusketeerAdventure
Summary: Finally confronting her past, Lisa Davis finds the strength to look ahead to the future.
"Some hang on to used to be
Live their lives behind
All we have is here and now
All our lives, out there to find" – Joe Cocker
Lisa stood in front of the full length mirror and studied the woman staring back at her. Tilting her head to the side – the short bob cut of her hair swung lithely back and forth to frame her face. She did not recognize herself.
Who are you, she wondered and pulled absentmindedly down on the hem of her crisp white jacket. It fit perfectly; she looked perfect. There was no flaw she could detect … but it didn't feel that way. Instead of perfect she felt strange and out of sorts. All of this seemed so surreal; as if none of it was really happening – as if she were observing herself from the other side of the room.
She had done it, hadn't she? Her dreams come true.
Frowning at the hesitant woman before her she looked her right in the eyes. "What's wrong with you?" she wanted to know; and when no answer was forthcoming, admonished - "Don't be such a baby"; reminding herself how hard she had worked; the humiliations endured... the self-doubt she had overcome. How she had given every ounce of herself for this moment in time.
The process of becoming an officer was so painful, it had left a mark. A mark so deep that it had given her a perspective she had only considered in her dreams. That she was, in spite of her damaged psyche a strong; willful; determined sailor… woman; who was capable of leading – capable of making the hard decisions and of being an asset to her country.
She could do this, and was up for the challenge.
Stepping closer she surveyed her face closely to be sure there was no evidence of stress; disappointment or haunting memories. She would show no sign of weakness today. Not now. Not now that it was all over.
Lips pressed tight, she forced her features to neutral; took a breath and smoothed nonexistent creases from the front of her skirt. Gazing down, her pumps were shining up at her.
This was what she had worked so long and hard for. She was an officer; and would do herself, her family and her country proud. That's all that mattered now … wasn't it?
She had pushed herself … no, Gunnery Sergeant Miller had pushed her further than she had ever thought possible. Forced her to fight through demons she thought long ago hidden and buried. After years of suppressing her worse fears; being held hostage by dormant events of the past she had faced them; walked through hell and extinguished the flames.
Now she knew. What happened wasn't her fault. None of it was her fault. She had tried … tried so hard to save them both. To this very day she bore the scars both physically and mentally from that night twenty years ago. Maybe now it was time to heal. Hell – all she could do was try … right? Perhaps if she could lay the past to rest she might be able to truly let someone in, let someone love her; let Sonny love her. She deserved to be loved.
Looking inward she sighed. Here in the present she should feel something … like pride in her accomplishment, love for her country, something; anything for this new stature in her career. But something was holding her back. "What are you so afraid of?" she asked aloud.
Apprehension seemed to smother all of the good she had accomplished and dampen this moment. She itched to call Sonny, but decided against it. They had talked at length last night and his encouragement and faith in her had left her heart swelling with love. It was as if he stood here next to her. No need to call just because she was feeling anxious.
Stepping back from the mirror Lisa took full view of herself. From head to toe she looked her best. Make up was just so. Hair freshly shampooed; uniform dry cleaned, pressed and pristine. Smiling slightly she felt ready and placed the cap carefully under her arm.
Turning away from her reflection, Lisa moved toward the door and thought of her sister, Swanny and Clay. They were the only people she invited to the graduation ceremony. Everyone else she cared for on deployment – no guarantee she would see them again. No guarantee she would see her cowboy again and laugh within the circle of his arms.
Emotion welled in her chest; so she breathed out to let it escape.
An image of party hard Swanny came to mind. His smile, his laugh – that wicked sense of humor. Swanny was gone. He was such a good man… a good friend – a hero really in her book.
When Clay had called with the news, the shock of it brought back memories of Danny and his struggles. His mission to drown out the horrors of combat he could not let go of … lost. A ghost of him remained with her still. She had loved him.
Shaking her head to dislodge the cobwebs of guilt, she thought instead of Brett Swann. What would Swanny say if he could see her now? He was always one to give advice dressed up in stories; old sayings or country western songs. He was a good listener. She would miss him terribly.
And there was Clay; who sounded so broken – so lost. But he gave her no opportunity to express her sorrow … to give her condolence. He and Swanny had become so incredibly close. After imparting the news he had just hung up, leaving her staring at the phone – mouth open; unable to breathe.
She hoped to see him today. She hoped to see her sister. Two people she cared about deeply who were suffering. Suffering through no fault of their own. Suffering from events they had no control over.
She understood it. Finally she had faced her own nightmares but suffered still; unable to release the echoes of a screaming child – calling for her through smoke and fire.
Straightening her spine, Lisa reached for the door. She needed to get going; get moving, so as not to be late for the next stage of her life. From now on, she was looking ahead to the future.
Ronnie gripped the embossed invitation and caressed the raised lettering.
She had to admit, against her better judgement and all that had gone on between her and her sister, she was proud of her. It had to have taken great strength and tenacity to achieve such a goal. Her sister was an officer in the United States Navy.
She thought of her own daughter and smiled to think of what great things she might achieve.
Standing here overlooking the water, she felt a little overwhelmed and completely out of her element; even a bit afraid. But she was here. Had put one foot in front of the other even though an inner voice screamed at her to stop; turn around - go back home.
Seeing Lisa at her doorstep; in her home after so long apart had brought back many painful memories. The fire; their mother; Lisa … leaving her behind to run away to the Navy.
Frowning she gazed up at the great ship before her and took a step back. What was she doing? Why was she even here? Lisa had made her feelings and priorities clear decades ago. She had turned her back on her; told her that she had to go – that she just couldn't stay.
So she had walked out the door and never looked back… until now.
Crumpling the invitation she remembered that day as if it were yesterday. Never looked back to see how she had suffered. She was only fifteen years old; left alone with their volatile mother who could not forgive Lisa – but also could not forgive her for being the one saved … for not being Michelle.
In order to survive it she had taken on her mother's mantra of vitriol toward Lisa and laying blame at her sister's feet. She took on her mother's skewed recollections of that night as truth. The night Lisa chose her … chose her to live and thus condemning Michelle to the flames.
Sitting heavily on a nearby bench Ronnie studied the rolling white capped waves. Her mind wandered back to that horrible night. Three small girls left home alone to fend for themselves; confused as to why the house was on fire. Lisa in charge, left to choose.
Looking up to the sky a vision of her little sister came to mind. Who would she be now? What achievements; what a wonderful life she would have had if not for her. A tear escaped along with a sob. It should be Michelle here, not she. Lisa had saved the wrong sister.
Leaning over she wanted to scream, she wanted to forgive but knew she would probably never be able to forgive Lisa for choosing her; then leaving her behind to bear the guilt and sorrow alone.
Making up her mind, Ronnie stood to her feet; placed the invitation on the bench and walked away.
Maybe someday in the future she would be able to overcome this heavy weight of grief and resentment. But it wouldn't be today. It was just too hard. Listening to her inner voice – she decided to go home.
It took some maneuvering to reach him.
Bodies were so tightly cloistered; intertwined together in congratulatory hugs and kisses that Lisa found it tough to weave through the masses. But she was determined.
When she finally stood before him, the two empty seats one to Clay's right the other to his left faded from view. He was here. He had come in spite of his grief and poor health.
Peering at him closely, she could see that his face looked haggard; his body thin beneath his coat – his weight bearing down so hard on his cane that it shook. Here was a true warrior she thought and smiled.
And when he smiled back – his face transformed and she was suddenly in his embrace; his arms tightly wrapped around her frame; his cane forgotten – clanging to the ground.
Lisa squeezed him back and without warning tears of joy, sorrow, love and regret erupted and she leaned into his chest to weep. Shoulders trembling, she could feel Clay rub her back in soothing circles. In her ear she heard him whisper, "Well done Ma'am" – then pull back to let her loose and give a salute; that roughish smile beaming nothing but warmth and brotherhood.
Saluting back, Lisa laughed and swiped tears from her face, not sure why she had broken down so completely. It was rare for her to cry with such abandon.
Pointing her finger at Clay, she pressed, "Don't you dare tell anyone I cried like that."
"No Ma'am", he laughed with her and stumbled back to retake his seat.
So full of happiness, Lisa sat by his side; held onto his hands and could not speak through the lump forming in her throat. How good it was to see him up and walking; that he was healing and on the mend. He would never know how much this meant to her. That it would stay with her for the rest of her life that he was here today.
Suddenly the sea of bodies parted, and walking toward her was Gunnery Sergeant Miller with a purposeful stride. Immediately her guard went up; radar seeking out why this unexpected approach. The expression on her face was as unreadable as ever; but her eyes… her eyes. Was that pride lurking beneath the surface? But then just as quickly the twinkle there was gone. Maybe she imagined it; wanted to see it.
Lisa stood hastily to her feet as Gunnery Sergeant Miller stood before her and saluted, and she back with as much crispness as she could muster. "Record the moment Ensign Davis?" she asked; her tone clipped – hand outstretched.
Retrieving her phone and handing it over Lisa nodded, "Yes Thank you Gunnery Sergeant"; then turned to help Clay to his feet. And as they smiled from ear to ear; holding on to one another, standing cheek to cheek – her emotions laid bare; close to the surface – tears of joy and relief slipped free.
"Thank you for everything."
Thank you for reading. Please leave a review to let me know what you think. I enjoyed Davis' journey this season and hope the series doesn't end it here.