A/N – Hey guys, how's it going? I decided to write another BoB fanfic, and it sure has been a while. I wrote my first one when I was fourteen years old, and now I'm going on eighteen and thought my writing has gotten a little better since then. This will be an OC/OC story with a lot of brotherly interaction with our favorite boys from Easy Company. Major characters will be Liebgott, Malarkey, Luz, Babe, and Roe, and I might add some more in as time goes on. I hope you guys enjoy, I've got nice plans for this story, so please read and maybe leave a review, it'd make my day.

Disclaimer – I don't own Band of Brothers and don't mean any disrespect for the real men of Easy Company. The only things I own are the OC's.

June 1944

I hate Germans. They're all the same. They're all killers. Fuck the Germans. I want to kill them all one by one. I want them to suffer.

We lived in France. Me, my mother and father, and my three brothers and two sisters. I was the third youngest, just ahead of Ellie and Ancelin, my sisters. All my brothers, Duwayne, Joseph, and Tyeson were older.

We lived peacefully. My dad had a nice job, my mother took care of us all, me and all my siblings got along well.

Until the spring of 1942. I was seventeen at the time, my oldest sibling was twenty three, the youngest was thirteen.

We were taken by German forces, and they weren't nice about it. They kicked down our door, rifles in their hands. They took us out of our home by force. It was the worst day of my life.

I remember getting on a train and we were all huddled together with hundreds of other people I'd never met, some were crying, the rest were quiet.

When we got to where we were going, we were dragged out of the train and told to get into line. This place was Auschwitz. I've heard of it, but I thought it was only a myth. I wondered how anyone could just take people away from their homes and put them in a prison for doing nothing but praying to the God they want to pray to.

But it was all true, and it was like something out of a nightmare.

We were separated when we got there, the boys were together, the girls were together, but some of them were taken into a separate line. And if you got in that line you were never seen again. Both my parents and my baby sister Ellie, only fifteen, got into that line.

We were taken inside the prison. Our bodies were shaved, we were hosed down, and we were given uniforms that looked like striped pajamas.

I got into a lot of trouble in this place. One time I dropped a rock I was transporting to a pile and when I bent down to pick it up my hand was crushed by a Nazi soldier. I remember the grim smile on his face while he did it, too. A little while later I back talked a soldier and I was whipped in front of everyone that evening. It was humiliating, but I didn't let them know that. I was tough, and I wanted them to know that.

My siblings weren't as tough though.

In 1943, my brother Timothy was shot. Earlier this year, my brother Joseph was taken to the gas chamber. Also this year Dylan became exhausted of all the work, and mixed with lack of hydration and food, he died while working.

I found all of this out after I escaped along with my youngest sister Ana.

She was a real trooper. She got out with me even though she had been beaten senseless just hours earlier. We walked for a long time, hiding when necessary. After a few days we found a camp in a small town where the American's were staying.

They took me and Ana to see the medics. We were both checked out and they let us stay there with the nurses. Ana stayed with them longer than I did though, she was severely wounded. I went out and looked around.

I met people. I talked. Then I sat alone and thought. I thought a lot. I thought too much. I thought of my parents and sister who were killed immediately after we were taken. I thought of my brothers and how they all died from horrible things. I thought about Ana and what shape she was in. I thought about who did all these things.

It was them. The Germans. Their evil. Their violence. How could they do such things?

They killed most of my family. Who knows if Ana will be okay, she's not looking so good. I was the only one who really made it out without life-threatening scars. But the mental scars would last forever.

I'd never hear my father's stupid jokes again. I'd never hear my mother's voice. Or Dylan's inappropriate stories. No more of Joseph telling me stories of when we were young, and no more Timothy cheering me up when I'm sad.

It was all gone, all thanks to them.

I hated them. I want them to die. And I want to be responsible for it.

"You're looking a little gloomy there, champ," I heard a cheery voice say.

This is how I met some of my best friends.

I turned to look up from where I sat on the step right outside the 'hospital' and saw a man at average height with dark hair and eyes to match. He wore a crooked grin on his face and it almost warmed my heart.

But I was too depressed to feel warmth. So I didn't respond.

He didn't seem toc are though, he just sat down next to me, putting his things down next to him. I could feel his gaze me, that smile was still on his face too, I knew it.

How could he be so happy at a time like this?

"So… What brings you here, little lady?" He asked, trying to sound endearing I guess.

I heard something click and turned to look at him. He was lighting a cigarette and the smell was wonderful. My dad used to smoke and it reminded me of him.

I watched as the man next to me took a drag and I couldn't help but ask.

"Can I have a smoke?"

He looked at me for a moment, as if surprised, but that smile was back a moment later and he was digging into his pocket again, looking for his cigarettes.

"Here, have mine," He said, handing it to me.

I took it from his fingers and placed in between mine before putting it up to my lips and drawing in the nice taste of tabaco.

I released the breath I was holding and watched as the puff of smoke pushed past my lips as the man next to me lit another cigarette.

"I'm George, by the way," He said, trying to get his lighter to work, "George Luz."

I nodded slightly and repeated his name, "George… That was my dad's name…" I then turned to face him, "I'm Mattie… Mattie Taubman."

I held my hand out towards him and he shook it kindly, that charming smile still on his face.

"Mattie," He repeated, as if testing the way it sounded on his tongue, "Mattie… You're French, no?"

He said it in a French accent, which made me want to smile, so I did, but only a little.

"And you're American, right?" I asked, smiling back at him.

He nodded and chuckled a little, "What gave it away?"

"You're forward, make lame jokes, and smell bad," I said nonchalantly, looking into his dark eyes, "Oh, and you're accent."

George laughed a little, but asked, "How would you know if my jokes are lame? You haven't even heard them, and I don't mean to brag, I'm pretty hilarious."

"And self-absorbed," I smiled, "How charming."

George smiled smugly at me as a couple of soldiers walked by, making George sit up and grab ahold of one of their arms.

"Hey guys, you should meet somebody," He said, dragging the person over to him.

One of the soldiers had dark hair and the other had red. One had freckles the other did not. They were both about the same height and looked charming enough. They had handsome boyish looks.

"Boys, this is Mattie," George introduced, "She's from around here somewhere."

"Dinan," I replied, "I'm from Dinan."

"Dinan," George repeated, smiling still, "That's where she's from."

"Yeah," The skinny man replied, "We heard her, George."

The skinny man looked down at me, his dark eyes seemed dangerous. He came off as an annoyed type of guy, he looked almost pissed off with the world. We should get along swell.

"I'm Joseph Liebgott, nice to meet you," He said, shaking my free hand, the other one still holding a smoke.

"And I'm Donald Malarkey," The red head introduced, shaking my hand immediately after Joseph did.

Donald seemed cheerier than Joseph, he wore a smile on his face, as if he were happy with everyone he met and immediately liked them.

"Nice to meet the both of you," I said, releasing Donald's hand, "How long you guys been here?"

Donald shrugged and adjusted his bag over his shoulder, "Not very long… We were just told we've got to move out in a couple of hours."

I shook my head, "No, I mean here. In Europe."

"Oh," Donald replied, "Well, we were in the UK nearly a month ago and we've only been over here in France for a few days."

"How's it going so far?" I asked. I was a very pushy person. I didn't care if I hurt the other person's feelings, but for some reason I didn't ask the obvious question. Has anyone you know been killed yet?

Donald adjusted his shoulders, almost anxiously before replying, "Alright. One of our men was wounded earlier, but we think he's going to be alright."

I nodded, "Good."

Then it was quiet. They knew something was up with me. They knew something bad had happened. But they didn't want to ask.

At least not the nice guys.

"So what's your story?" The skinny guy called Joseph asked.

I looked up to meet his eyes, almost sending a glare his way, "That's none of your business."

He narrowed his eyes at me and shifted all his weight onto one foot, "You asked us, so I'm asking you."

I didn't want to give them a full story. So I stayed quiet for a moment, trying to think of a way to respond.

"Let's just put it this way," I said, looking up at him again, "Me and my sister are the only ones out of my family left… And I'm not even sure she's going to make it."

It was quiet for a moment, then Joseph asked, "So you're Jewish?"

I looked at him for a minute, coming off as being upset, but I nodded, "Yes."

He tilted his head down to look at his feet and nodded as well, "Yeah, me too."

For some reason I was surprised, but then I realized he might just be as upset as I was. Well, not as much as I was, but still. He knew what it was like to be prejudiced against.

I watched as he sat down next to me, George still sat on the other side, "So… They just storm into houses and kill Jews? Is that how it works?"

He didn't know? I then remembered I was wearing a hat that covered my shaved hair. I was still very weak, I hadn't eaten too much recently, but one of the medics gave me an old military jacket that sagged over my shoulders, making me look fuller.

I suddenly pushed the jacket off of my shoulders and let it fall down behind me and then I swiped the hat off of my head, revealing my shaved head.

"Not exactly," I said quietly, trying to keep my emotions in check, something I was always good at doing.

The three men around me seemed shocked. So they didn't know about the camps.

"What… What happened to you?" Donald asked as they all sat up straighter, their shoulders tense now.

"Concentration camp," I said, "They're everywhere… They take you from your homes and separate you and your family… Men and women are separated, some of them are exterminated on sight, like my parents and little sister… All my brothers are dead, all murdered…"

They were quiet so I could speak, or they were horrified. I wasn't sure which one.

"My little sister, Ana… She was beaten before we escaped," I went on, looking down at my feet, "She might die, she still hasn't woken up… I was lucky. There aren't many escapees… If you're caught you're killed on sight and then they burn your body… There was always the smell of burning, rotting flesh in the camps…"

"Oh God…" George said, his face showing disgust.

"That's… That's…" Donald couldn't find words.

But Joseph could.

"What the fuck?" He cried, standing up immediately, "How can somebody just murder someone for their religion or race? That's fucking disgusting! Who would do something like that?"

I know the question was rhetorical, but I still answered it, "The Germans, that's who."

"That's—"

"Men, let's go, we're moving out!" A man yelled, garnering the attention of all the men around me.

They all stood and put their bags back on, grabbing their weapons. I remained seated, watching them as they prepared to move on.

"It was nice meeting you, miss," Donald said, looking down at me sympathetically, adjusting his shoulder strap, "I hope your sister comes out okay."

I nodded and offered a small, gracious smile, "Thanks. It was nice meeting you too."

"You're very lovely, Mattie," George said, trying to be charming, but I could still see the sadness in his brown orbs.

"You too, George," I said, shaking his hand.

George and Donald left, casting several glances over their shoulders as they walked before they disappeared in the crowd of American Soldiers, blending in with all the other uniforms.

But Joseph remained.

"You can just travel with the nurses and medics," He said, "They'll move to a more convenient area for us, so maybe we'll see you again… We can talk more then."

I nodded and smiled a tad, "Yeah, maybe…"

He nodded and cleared his throat before stretching his arm out and shaking my hand, "Well, it was nice to meet you, Mattie."

"You too, Joseph," I said, releasing his hand.

"Please, everyone calls me Joe," He smiled smugly, starting to walk away.

"Joe," I repeated, smiling a little, "Alright then, Joe."

He smiled back at me and threw a hand up to wave before he followed his comrades into the crowd of other soldiers, blending in as well.

I continued to sit on that step and I watched the soldiers slowly disappear from the town, wondering just how many of them would come back alive.