Jing-Mei looked out at the humbled villages they passed as stood on the deck of the ship that was taking her and many others from her camp to Bari

Jing-Mei looked out at the humbled villages they passed as stood on the deck of the ship that was taking her and many others from her camp to Bari. The people who looked back at her would only do so for a second before casting their glances back down to the ground or their work. The air was so warm and the sea was so fragrant. She wished they could stay longer. It was such a nice change to the cold of Germany and France. So this was where David was from? What an absolutely lovely country! She smiled, imagining what she would say to him once she saw him again. Now that the war was over, she was sure that their love could fully blossom without the constraints of society. A breeze lightly tousled her hair and she breathed in the deep smells of life around her. The afternoon sun shone off the sea, and she was so absorbed in its beauty that she didn't notice the pain and sorrow emanating from land, or the distasteful looks being cast in the direction of her ship.

She wondered if she and David would get a chance to visit his country before she had to ship out once more. Right now all she wanted was to be in his arms, to feel his embrace and no longer fear the world. She wouldn't let herself imagine life without him. He was below decks, with the rest of the prisoners from this part of the world. They'd dock in Bari in about a half hour, and come to shore to stretch and find a place to spend the night other than the ship, if they like. Some Americans who'd been fighting in Italy were to board, along with supplies, which would take a while. They'd leave again by seven in the morning.

She planned on finding Dave when they came ashore.

The room stunk. Dave scowled. It was disgusting. Why did they have to stay down there? They should be set free, the war was over. Luka had somehow managed to fall asleep amidst the noise and stench. He looked up at the Italian-American guard who was annoyingly chomping at a wad of gum and absorbed in his magazine. He couldn't wait to get back on land, to see him mother again, his grandmother… and Jing-Mei. He couldn't wait to see her again… yet didn't know when it would be possible. He was still being treated like a prisoner. Yet his heart was elated. The war was over. He could go home and live like he did before Mussolini. Before he knew such fear.

John Carter and Peter Benton stepped out onto land. Boy, did it feel good to be on steady ground! Neither knew how they'd survive the journey back to the states. They saw Elizabeth helping Mark down another ramp. He looked good considering what he'd been through. John was excited as he heard music wafting in the air toward them. Celebrations. Now that's what he liked best about being a returning vet. There'd be plenty of parties to go to… besides the fact that he lived. He felt his heart sink a little when he remembered that he had prison duty. Both he and Benton were in charge of the buggers. At least there were only four of them. Three Italians and a Croatian. Not that they'd try anything, the war was over.

He and Benton flanked the prisoners as they exited.

"Hey!"

John looked up to see another young American running towards them.

"You with the 57th?"

"Yeah."

"I'm supposed to help you guys… with the prisoners."

"All right, what's your name Jerry. Jerry White."

"Well, Jerry, you can start by tying your bootlaces."

The heavyset young man looked down. "Oh, right, sorry Sir."

Carter was supposed to find a shelter with one of the locals or a tavern to keep he and the prisoners in overnight. He nodded to Benton who was waiting impatiently and they set off.

Dave swiveled his head around, trying to find Jing-Mei. He couldn't see her through the throngs of people at the harbor and was continuously being told to move on by the Americans.

From her position of the deck Jing-Mei searched the crowds for Dave. She though she saw Carter for a split second before he disappeared into the crowd again.

"Miss?"

An extremely lanky young man stood behind her.

"Yes?"

"I'm looking for Lieutenant Carter, have you perhaps seen him?"

"Why?"

The young man looked terrified. He extended a telegram with a shaky hand. "It says here that Lieutenant Carter is in charge of the prisoners-"

Scanning the contents of the telegram she quickly snatched it from his grasp. It was an urgent dispatch from the general, stating that all prisoners of the southern European hemisphere were to be emancipated. "Thank you, Sir, I'll make sure he gets it."

"Are you sure Miss?"

"Yes, I know Lieutenant Carter personally and see that he receives it right away."

"Thank you, Miss," the nervous wreck of a soldier looked overjoyed to be relieved of such a task and trotted off. She smiled inside as she made her way to the unloading ramp to find Carter.

Dave was in shock. He looked to his left, then to his right. Everywhere he saw destruction. His stomach sickened. Burned out buildings, shattered windows, robbed stores. He was in a truck once more, heading South West for a reported tavern that had been recently overrun by American soldiers. He couldn't keep the disgust from his face. The same Goddamn Americans who were responsible for this. He saw his country before him raped and charred, its people beaten and woeful.

His heart skipped a beat when he thought he saw someone he recognized. It was the Widow Linguicci. She watched his head snap towards her as they drove by, but didn't acknowledge that she recognized him. She had been an old friend of his grandmother's. She had to have known who he was. He watched her until she disappeared. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. He exchanged a foul glance with Luka, who also disapproved of the destruction around them.

Dave held his breath as they passed a burnt road sign that he recognized. My God… they were entering his village…

He frantically glanced about at the pillaged homes and stores around him. The stench of charred wood filled the air. Black wood. Burnt wood. Destruction… his grandmother… hit mother! He suddenly felt the urge to run, run to where he knew his home was. He glanced about frantically, noting where the Americans were. He would do it. He had to do it. He just would wait a little bit longer. Until they were more near the sea…

It took a few seconds for the Americans to notice he had done it. Luka looked on in shock. Dave had leapt out of the bed of the truck and now ran as fast as he could, trying not to fall and praying that he wouldn't be shot in the back.

"Stop the truck! Stop the damn truck!" Benton was trying to stand and steady his rifle.

"Damn!" John slowed. "Shit!" He looked up to his right and saw Benton aiming at the young Italian. "Forget about it, Peter. The fucking war's over. I'll go get him." John leapt out of the driver's seat and began to run in pursuit. Benton hopped out after him. "You watch the rest of 'em!" Benton pointed a finger at the startled Jerry.

"Ma.. ma… me?"

"Yes you! Damn foo! White people…" damn it was hard to run in uniform.

David Malucci's lungs were burning. He skidded to a halt. The trail by the cliff had been blown out… which way, which way?! The forest! He turned and ran into the groove of trees.

"Stop! Damnit!" he heard the Americans behind him. He had to hurry.

His thighs and calves were on fire. His throat burned, yet he kept on running. He was no longer running to get away from the Americans. He was running to get to his mother, dying to see her again. Dying to see the love in her eyes, the touch of his grandmother's hands. He tripped once and ripped his pants but got right back up, ignoring the pain that radiated from his knee.

He was running on shale now. He knew he was close to home. He burst out of the woods and down the path that he and his mother used to take when going to look for his father. Up, up, his legs hurt as he climbed toward his house, and then froze, his lungs heaving.

There was rubble and charred wood. Broken stones and the stench of death marked where his house had once been.

"Mamá!" he yelled, not expecting a response from the rubble. He fell to his knees, overcome with pain as he noticed two unmarked graves in the distance. He couldn't cry. He was too in too much shock and pain to cry.

John and Peter entered from the opposite side, slowing their jog. "Damn that boy can run!" Peter panted.

Dave looked up when he heard them approach, watching their American faces as they scanned the rubble. American. American. American.

John was slowly approaching, sensing what was going on. Dave watched as he came nearer. His foot crunched a dead tomato plant as he walked over where his mother's garden once flourished. And something snapped inside of him. A rage that he had never felt before took control of his body. He stayed in his kneeling position, waiting for the enemy to approach. His blood pumped darkness throughout his body. Closer. Closer. That's it. He slowly looked up into John's face.

In that split second John the darkness that filled the young Italian's eyes and immediately recognized it as a threat to his life. He quickly began to back up, but it was too late. Dave screamed as he lunged at him, his woeful hatred giving him strength. He knocked the unprepared American to the ground and grabbed his neck, squeezing as hard as he could. It was sonly a matter of seconds before Benton came to his friend's aide, hitting him in the head with the butt of his rifle, knocking him off John. He lay on the ground, stunned for a moment as John recovered, now also filled with anger. He leapt on top of Dave and delivered him a sharp blow to the face. Maybe it was the hatred that filled him, or the extreme randomness of it all, but Dave, despite the pain in his skull, clouted John back, sending the older man back onto the rubble and lunging for his neck once more.

Benton had heard a shout and tuned away when it appeared that his friend had the upper hand and didn't see Dave retaliate and pin John to the ground once more. As he choked the man he though sinisterly that he was righting the death of his family. Righting all that he had been through. Righting all that his beautiful country had been through. Righting all the bloodshed the world had been through in the past five years.

However as Carter felt his life begin to slip away from him he was overrun by an instinctive and primal source of survival, giving him a burst of strength he unsheathed his knife and managed to throw the Italian off of him.

He held Dave down, drew back his elbow, and swung with all his might as he struggled to breathe. He felt his weapon sink in satisfactorily, hitting muscle and organ alike. His lip bled from being struck earlier. He drew the blade out of the young man's body and prepared to strike again, seeing the shock on the Italian's face he sneered with sinister satisfaction.

"Nooooo!!!" A woman shrieked from behind. Benton held back Jing-Mei who had just arrived.

John didn't hear her. He couldn't hear her. He sunk the blade in a second time, hearing his victim's escaping breath as the blade sunk in. Dave struggled to breathe; blood trickled from his mouth, bubbling up from his now ruptured stomach. John plunged in the knife a final time before he was violently thrown out of the way by someone. As he fell to the ground painfully he was surprised to see little Jing-Mei as his attacker. She knelt by Dave, her lower lip trembling, not knowing what to do. She scooped up his head with one arm and saw a distant gave in his eyes. "David? David!" He slowly moved to look at her, struggling to breathe. His eyes showed his slight smile as her face came into focus. "Oh God, David…" she looked at the red seeping out of his body from everywhere. " can't loose you… I can't!" She felt his body shudder violently, then somehow realized that his mind was no focused on death. She glanced back at the two graves she had noticed earlier, then back to Dave.

"You are strong, but you must join them now," tears streamed down her face. "Join them now." Her smile was as mournful as it was heavenly to the dying soldier. He couldn't speak, but weakly smiled at her, for he could hear them now. He could hear his grandmother and mother calling to him. Could see his father waving from his boat on the golden, twilight-lit sea. He tried to lift his hand to wave back, but it slowly fell to his side as his last breath gave out, and he drifted away into the whims of Elysium.

Jing-Mei let his body go limp, and lay him back down, knowing that he would want her to be strong, she stopped her sniffling, sat up straight, and took in as deep a breath as he shaky larynx would allow. She turned an accusatory glance to John, who was now dusting himself off. Peter kept his distance. She rose and slowly approached the disdain in her eyes evident.

"I-I was trying to protect myself, he attacked me, he-" his mumblings were cut off when she thrust a telegram, now stained red with Dave's blood, into his hand, and strode away with the grace she had been taught.

John stood on the edge of the cliff, a few yards away from where he and Dave had fought. In the crook of his arm he held the ashes of the Italian soldier. The wind blew and the sunset cast golden rays on the faces of himself and the stoic Luka and Jing-Mei. He reached inside the metal can and grabbed a pinch of the ashes. He'd killed many men, but never one he got to know so well, as little as he knew about the young Italian. He let the ashes blow into the sea. Then Jing-Mei stepped forward and with an affectionate smile looked into the sunset. "I will never forget you, David Malucci, and will carry you with me always. You showed me what it feels like to live, and I will be forever grateful to you." She tossed the ashes into the wind.

Luka took the container from John. He scowled for a moment, trying not to cry, then looked up into the ceaseless dance of the sea. He gracefully emptied the rest of the ashes into the breeze. "Now you are free from this nightmare. You are free from your life. You are with your grandmother now, with your father and your mother." A single tear slid down his cheek and Jing-Mei whimpered softly as she stifled her emotions.

The last thing Dave had seen in life was Jing-Mei's loving face and compassionate eyes, but his grandmother was calling him, and as his sold turned away from life he saw golden sunset, and his mother with outstretched arms. He knew that all he had to do was hug her, and look into her kind eyes, and all the pain would go away. All the suffering. All the torment. My mother's eyes. My mother's eyes.

A/N: Hey guys! I'm sorry, yet this concludes My Mother's Eyes… even though I can't bring myself to write "the end." I've immensely enjoyed all of your support you've given me. You don't know what valuable feed back you offer. Please feel free to tell me what you think overall, now that you've read the whole thing. Favorite parts, inconsistencies, anything that stood out, what you liked/disliked, my ears are open!

I hope that by reading this piece you have a better understanding of the sacrifices the men and women of WWII made to give you this world, so that you could sit on your butt and read this right now. I know I will never forget what they've done for us, and hope you won't either. We owe so much to them. Sorry about Dave… but it was the way it had to be. Thank you for your time, and I hope it's been worth your while.

~Duma