Her name is Bree, short for Brianna. A regular redhead, who works as a social media expert at a prestigious PR consultant firm in New York. Her colleagues are mixed of professional hipsters (who most of them are refused to be called hipster, but secretly wants to be identified as one) and computer science nerds who rule the social media world, and after working her ass off for two years, she became their supervisor.

Have you heard about that drug scandal involving a certain young adult celebrity from a country neighboring US of A who dump his sweet girlfriend and then had an affair with a stripper?

How about that one time when a Senator's son got caught in bed with his bodyguard in Vegas?

No?

Or have you ever wondered why a teenager suddenly became the next 'it' girl, had thousands subscriber on YouTube and suddenly became the next co-star for a handsome movie star in only months?

Yep. That's how good Bree and her team are.

But she's also a major klutz. Her sister, Jane, can only sigh in exasperation when she got a call from Bree.

See…Bree is at the hospital. She has fallen from a stairs while jogging in Central Park and sprained her something. The stairs has only two steps.

"Which limb now?" Jane asks.

"My left hand. I saved my ankle but I had to use my left hand so I didn't brained myself on the pavement." Bree says.

"Pity." Jane says dryly. "But it's good though. Your brain still intact so you can call a taxi with your right hand, ask the driver to haul your ass back to our apartment with your mouth, grab your money with your right hand, and pay the driver with your right hand."

"Bitch"

"Takes one to know one"

"Touché. See ya at home. Bring some Chinese. Egg rolls are preferable. Love ya, Sis"

When Jane arrives that night at their apartment, she is welcomed with a shriek like this: "Omigoooddd, Jane! I think I'm in love.", complete with a weird dance (or strange wriggling, to be exact) since the one who shriek is splattered all over the couch.

"You meet that handsome doctor again? It's not healthy to deliberately fall from the stairs just to see that doctor again, Bree." Jane says with a raise on her eyebrow, followed with a condescending stare while making silent judgement about Bree's life. Bree hates that stare.

Jane's concern is rewarded with a flying pillow to her head.

"Am not!" Bree pouts. "But today, I got lucky. Handsome Doctor wearing a blue shirt under his doctor coat…with one button open so I can see his collar bone! I can see chest hair! CHEST! HAIR! And I know his name, Jane! Albert Mercier, Ph.D. aaahhhh…Doctor Mercier... with sexy accent." And with that, Bree sighs and again lost in her fantasy world where she's talking in French, the language of love, with said Doctor. Bree doesn't speak French in real life.

"Whatever." Jane says.

Bree and Jane have lived together since their parents died five years ago. The sisters are so different in personality; many people didn't believe they are siblings. Jane is more resigned (geeky nerdy cat-person-y kind of girl, as Bree always says) and dedicated her life for academic world ("How can you spend your time reading books about a war that happened seventy years ago?" "Because the past will always affecting our decision in our present and future. People who never learn for the past, will make the same mistake." "Save it for your undergraduate students, Jane.").

Bree, on the other hand, is never interested in anything related to studying (let alone studying stories of already dead people. Bree even once thought to sue people who publish text books because text books can cause lower-back pain) and a self-proclaimed social butterfly. But in the other hand, Bree can be the evidence of severe case of epic spasticness and foot-in-mouth disease, especially in front of the gender of male kind she found attractive.

"Did you embarrass yourself on the process of knowing said doctor's name?" Jane asks while turns on her laptop and starts typing her doctorate thesis.

"Well…um…just a little. At least he's not running to the door in terror. And no panic attack this time. That's always a good sign, right?" Bree says.

Jane sighs "How you can be genius in you work but can be an utter idiot in front of a man you like?"

"Story of my life." Bree mumbled. "Okay…enough with my miserable love story…which does not exist …By the way how's the hot librarian?"

"Hot librarian's name is Derek. And we're dating now."

"Aww…congrats, Sis!" Bree claps her hand, only to wince because…yeah...sprained wrist. "Derek's sooo much better that that awfully douchey Ken-doll ex-boyfriend of yours. You know…You and Derek should make those couple t-shirt with 'Talk nerdy to me' on the front" Bree continues.

Jane's bitch-please face is a wonder to behold. "We're not nerds! We're intellectual badass."

Bree makes a gaging sound.

The bickering ensues back and forth for another hour until Bree's phone goes off. Bree frowns at the caller ID. It's her boss.

"John? You do know that it's already near my bed time, right? I don't like to talk about work only 30 minutes before my much needed beauty sleep." She says.

"Sorry Bree. It's urgent. Our beloved client number 364..."

Bree groaned "Goddammit. What did he do this time? I told you that kid will give us just more trouble. I reserve my right to use the 'termination for convenience' clause in our contract."

John sighs on the phone "I know…I had clearance from the higher up this will be our latest job with that menace. Can you please go back to the office now? We had a task force meeting to handle this."

Becca frowns at that "Task force? How fucked up…um…forgive my French, Bossman…How…"

John scoffs "Let's just say it's a 'misunderstanding' of laws" Wow…the air quote is heavy with that one "it's like the interstate laws versus state laws…and apparently federal laws supersedes state laws. And let's pray it's not involving any international law or some shit, because apparently, a German tourist is involved. Their consulate is already being a pain in my ass." What the hell? "You can say it's a great learning experience of the legal system. Since you're the only person we had who can speak German, and you're our most valuable PR guru, we need you ASAP to unfuck this clusterfuck. Hello…Bree…are you still there?"

"Um…yeah…I'm still here. I forgive your French, by the way. Dammit, John. What do you want me to do? That's a lot of damage I need to fix. And I sprained my wrist, John." Bree whines shamelessly. She's in pain. She has all the right to be dramatic. She sees Jane rolls her eyes. Bree throws another pillow to her.

"Which hand this time?" John said flatly.

Becca stares his phone as if she can burn her boss through it. It's a testament of Becca's clumsiness that even her Boss takes her accident as a mundane event.

"Fine! But I want a raise after this." Bree snaps.

"Deal. Just get here in 30 minutes, okay." And the phone cuts off.

Bree sighs dramatically.

"Do you really have to go? I really don't like the idea you have to go this late just to clean up some fucked up kid." Jane says.

"Well…at least this will be the last time we handle that kid. I might have to spend a couple of nights in the office. Is it okay?" Bree says…feeling tired already. It's gonna be a hellish job.

Jane sighs "Just don't forget to eat, okay? And Red Bull, microwave popcorn, Snickers, Reese's and the likes are not staple food."

Bree smiles and kiss her sister's cheek "I will. Thanks, Sis." and goes to her room to change.

Ten minutes later, wrapped in her coat, scarf and beanie (it's still chilly, okay) and bringing her duffle bag, Bree leaves her apartment. She only left the apartment for 5 minutes when her phone vibrates and there's a message from Jane that says 'Tell your Boss that if you come back home with physique resemblance zombie, I will kill him.' Bree smiles and replies 'Aww…you miss me already. Will do. Love ya, Jane. Don't eat all my granola bars.'

She decided to take the subway, since it's not very late. There are only couples of people on the subway, so Bree decided to stay alert and not use her earphone like usual. The ride itself is uneventful, but right after Bree walked out the station, she feels that she's been followed. She speeds up her steps, and after a while, she can feel that she's not being followed anymore.

But when she's passing an alley, somebody pulls and slams her face first to the wall. The robber holds her hand in her back. Her sprained wrist hurts like hell. And she can feel something sharp is pushed into her back.

"P..P..Please. Don't hurt me." Bree stutters "I h-have money. It's in my bag. You can have it. J-just don't hurt m-me." She tries to control her breath. Panic attack won't do anything good.

Jane, she thinks. Stay safe for Jane. Stay safe for Jane. She can't leave Jane alone. They only have each other.

The robber doesn't say anything. One of his hands starts rummaging Bree's bag. He founds Bree's wallet and when finds out Bree only got some cash in it, push the sharp thing deeper into her back.

"We're gonna find ATM and you'll give me more money. Move!"

"Okay…okay" Bree quickly agrees.

But apparently, her brain decided that it's time to be clumsy again. Somehow, when she turns around, her hand knocks the robber's mask off.

They both stare at each other, too shocked to move.

Then the robber start to look panicked because Bree sees his face. He grabs the front of Bree's coat and throws her into the street.

It happens so fast, Bree's brain can't understand what the hell just happened until she sees light from the corner of her eyes…then hears a screeching sound…a deafening sound of a horn…follows with an impact that feels like she's being hit by a train.

And then blackness.

The first thing she feels is the cold. Meat-locker cold.

The second is the smell. Like bunch-of-dudes-who-don't-take-showers-for-weeks kind of smell. But weirdly enough, she also smells pine and fresh snow.

The third thing that comes to her senses is the sounds. Mostly silent, this is weird, because New York never this quiet even in the night. There are some whispers. Men whispering, to be exact.

"She just fell into my foxhole." One man says.

Foxhole? Is that like rabbit hole? Like in Alice?

"Her clothing is strange. Not like WAC uniform or even civilian. But she's definitely a civilian. What in the name of God a civilian do in the front line? Do you think she's a German spy?" Says another one. His voice sounds fatherly.

Wait. What?

"I don't think so. I checked her bag. It's full of strange things and clothes. But it's all American stuff…I think."

Bree tries to open her eyes. And suddenly regret it, because she stares directly into the sun.

"Ow" she mutters.

"Take it easy, Miss." Says another voice. He got a soothing accent that reminds her to someone familiar. He helps her sit up and after a while, Bree can open her eyes.

"How is she, Gene?" asks Fatherly Voice who apparently a tall, handsome, read head guy. His face looks trustworthy.

Soothing Accent…Gene…says "So far no signs of injury, Captain Winters. Her left wrist already bandaged. I never saw this kind of bandage though. It's…advance. I also have to check for any concussion." Even Gene's face looks familiar.

"We knock our heads pretty hard when she fell on my hole, Dick." says First Voice who apparently in first name basis with Captain Winters. He got mischievous eyes. "She got one hell of a hard head for a woman."

Hey! Rude much?

"I sprained my wrist. And my head is not hard, mister. It's awesome." Bree mutters. Okay that's lame. She might have a concussion.

Captain Winters chuckles "You got a match there Lew."

Lew? What kind of lame name is Lew?

When she hears the three men stifle their laugh, she apparently said that out loud.

"My name is Captain Lewis Nixon, Miss."

"Captain." Bree mutters…suddenly aware of the military rank and lingo…and that the men wearing uniforms and with guns that look some kind of…old school? Definitely not modern guns. And she's in some kind of forest. She looks at the Captain "Captain?" Captain Winters nods. "And you?" She asks Gene.

"I'm the medic, Miss. My name is Eugene Roe. And you?"

"I'm…I'm Bree. Briana Sullivan. Can somebody tell me what the hell is going on?" her voice starts to squeak in panic.

"Uh…you fell into my foxhole, Bree. We also want to know what a civilian like you did in the front line." Captain Nixon says.

"Civilian? Front line? What…Where am I?"

Gene says gently "We're in Ardennes Forest, Miss. In Belgium? Do you remember anything?"

"B-Belgium? As in Europe? But I don't recall there's a war in Europe." Bree says, confused.

Nixon frowns "But Europe has been in war since the Nazi invade Poland."

Nazi?! Holly hell…she's been thrown into the Second World War?!

Bree stutters; desperately push the impending panic attack at bay "What year is it?"

It's Gene who answered "It's January. 1945"

It took a full minute for her brain to understand Gene's answer. When she finds her voice again, she shakily says "I'm from 2016. And I…I was in New York. I was going to go to my office when…" Bree pauses when she starts to remember "when I got robbed and then he pushed me into the street….And then I got hit by a…a car?…I think."

Oh God. Is she dead?

Captain Winters frowns "2016? New York? But how…" He doesn't finish his sentence because something explodes above them.

Bree froze. Nixon and Winters expertly jump to a foxhole nearby while Gene drags her to another foxhole and then covers her body with his.

The panic attack comes in full force. She stars to hyperventilating and unable to move. Gene realizes what's happening when Bree's body starts to shakes violently and her breath is wheezing. He grabs her face and forces Bree to face him.

"Bree…Hey, Bree…listen to me. It's gonna be fine. I'm here. Breathe, Bree. Follow me. Breathe."

"J...Jane.." Bree gasps between breath "I'm dead and Jane is alone. S-She only g-got me."

"Your sister?" Gene guesses.

"Y-yes. A-and I left her. J-Jane…"

Gene wipes her tears she doesn't realized pouring form her eyes. "It's gonna be all right. Just breath, Bree. Focus on me."

Bree focuses on Gene's breathing and his eyes. Her panic attack subsides gradually but she's still shaking. After what feels like a million years, the barrage finally stopped but immediately followed with the shouts of 'Medic'.

"stay here, Bree. Gotta go." And he leaps from the hole.

Seconds later, Nixon jumps in. "Are you okay, Bree?"

Bree takes several deep breaths before she can answer. "No. I'm not okay. I'm time traveling. I thought it's only in the movies!"

"There are lots of movies about time traveling in the future?"

Bree eyes the Captain incredulously "Really? That's what you asked?"

Nixon shrugged "You want me to ask about the end result of this war? Okay. One: assuming that you're American from your weird belongings, it's safe to conclude that Germany or Japan not colonize America in your time. Thank God for that. Two: there's nothing good knowing the future before its time. It'll either make you lazy or even careless of what you do. Three: not to insult you or anything, but you don't looked like a person that paid attention in history class."

"Oh wow…that's very…"

"Smart?" Nixon winks "I know. I'm the best intel this Regiment has."

Bree chuckles "Very immodest of you."

Nixon smiles "There you go. You have to smile a lot. Come on. You can stay in our CP until we get you a ride to the city. I'll tell you anything you need to know."

During their walk, Nixon supplies a brief story about the war. Some of it Bree remembers from history class in high school. He also try to explain the structure of his unit, but after he saw that Bree getting more and more confused, he decided to summarize it with "So from Easy Company point of view, Colonel Sink is the stern but lovable grandpa. Winters is the Dad. I'm obviously the cool uncle. Speirs from the Dog Company is the creepy uncle. Dike is the uncle you want to kick right in his stupid ass. Don't tell anyone I said that. But I'm afraid someday his stupidness will cause too much death toll to this unit. Shames is the…eccentric uncle. But he's somewhat okay. Peacock is…I don't want to talk about him. He's a lost cause. Literally and metaphorically. And Buck is the cool uncle, like me. In conclusion, Easy is the best company in the ETO. You'll meet the others at chow."

At the CP, they find Winters is talking with a short guy wearing a backpack. When they got nearer, Bree can see that the guy is not wearing a backpack, but some big radio.

"Ah here they come." Winters says "George, I want you to meet Miss Briana Sullivan. Bree, this is Easy Company's radio man, George Luz."

"So you really come from the future, Miss?" George shakes her hand.

Bree nods "I guess that's what happened. To be honest, I'm still confused. And please call me Bree."

"And you can call me George. Or Luzzy, or Cupcake, or any confectionary based term of endearment of your choice. Joly Old Saint Luz at your service." He grins widely.

Bree decides that this guy looks like an elf. The mischievous kind of elf.

Nixon smirks "George is our resident clown, Bree. George, can you introduce Bree to the boys? Knowing you boys tendencies of gossiping like housewives, I'm pretty sure they already know there's a woman join us."

George shrugs "We're more like high schoolers before prom, Sir."

Winters glares at him but the Captain's lips twitches a bit "You're dismissed, George."

George walks her into a small clearing that apparently Easy's soup kitchen. Bree's not sure if soup kitchen is the right term in the Army, but she sees a tent that serves as the kitchen that wafting horrendous smell and the soldiers around it look like hobos. Badass hobos with various kinds of guns.

"Yeah…I know…we look like homeless." George says as if reading her mind, and after a thought, sniffs his armpit "and smell like one. But I assure you, you're safe with us. The Krauts won't touch you."

"Krauts?"

"That's what we called the Germans."

"Oh…okay."

The guys went silent when George and Bree arrive.

"Guys, this is Bree. We still don't know why and how she's here, but treat her with care as your own sister or I'll cut your dicks off. Captain Winters approve. So Bree…That's Bill Guarnere. Or gonorrhea. He used to think with his dick, instead with his brain. He's joined in the hips with that red head, Babe Heffron. His real name is Edward, but only the nuns called him Edward. I've once hoped that their combined stupidity would perhaps cancel each other out, but instead it's strengthening." And George expertly dodge a shoe that Bill thrown at him.

"And this scrawny Jew here is Joe Liebgott…his brain works ninety percent from caffeine." George continues.

"The other ten percent?" Bree asks.

"Sex"

"Aah…of course." Bree nods. Liebgott just winks and continue clean his gun.

"Hoobler over here…had a talent for projectile vomiting. The Spaghetti Incident of '42 was his biggest achievement."

"That's not spaghetti." A short man says, mid-tooth-brushing. "That's..."

"Army noodles with ketchup." George cuts in. "Yeah...yeah...I know. Geez… Italians are fanatic with their spaghetti. I'll tell you in details later, Bree. Meanwhile, this tooth-brushing midget is my soulmate. Frank Perconte. Say hi, Perco." George kick Perco's leg.

"Hi Bree." Perco says with a mouth full of foam.

"Jesus...you look like a dog with rabies." George says, followed by Perco flips him off as sophisticatedly as possible while tooth brushing. "That pretty Aryan perfection is Lieutenant Compton. We call him Buck. Those three stooges over there are Don Malarkey or Malark, Warren Muck or Skip and Alex Penkala or Penk. Huh…I just realized…you guys' nick names are like dog names." And again expertly dodges a rock (from Malark), a spoon (from Penk) and a peppered helmet (from Skip) that thrown at him.

"Wow…you're really good at this. Dodging things thrown at you." Bree says.

"Heh…I've been doing this since Toccoa." George shrugs nonchalantly and then adds when he sees Bree frowns in confusion. "That's where we're training to be the most badass paratrooper ever."

"Okay."

"You already meet Doc, right? Gene?"

"Yes…he…helped me."

"Right. He got this magic touch, don't you think?"

And voice…and eyes… "I guess." Bree says.

"Come on…let's get to the chow line. Joe Domingo cooks the best rancid ass beans in the whole world. You can use my extra cup and spoon."

George keeps introducing the rest of Easy men while they stand in the chow line. Suffice to say, George has a unique way to introduce the men of Easy. Easy men are brash with words, but act gentlemanly to Bree, considering they've spent weeks without seeing women.

The somewhat relax atmosphere is ruined when a man comes and says in an arrogant tone "Am I hear it right? A woman just come out of nowhere and join us?"

"Lieutenant Dike." Bree sees Lieutenant Compton…Buck…approaching the man. "Miss Bree already here with us."

Oh…so this is Lieutenant Dike. The one that Nixon want to kick right in his stupid ass. Bree can understand the reason now.

Dike snorts and makes a very judgmental stare to Bree "This is outrage. Her presence will corrupt the morals of the men."

Oh hell no!

"Hey Mister!" Bree shouts; cannot resist herself anymore. "My boobs are not the enemy; the Krauts are. So why don't you channel your anger for overcompensating your micro-penis into formulating a useful strategy that won't kill your own men."

Her outburst is followed with various choking noises, muffled laughs and a very red faced Dike that stomping off after mumbling "I have to make a phone call."

George gleefully pats her shoulder and says "God, I like you, Bree."

A/N: Hi there...thx for reading. I really appreciate if you can leave some review. Since English is not my language and this work is not beta-ed, please poke me if you find mistakes so I can correct them. Cheers ^_^