She was there one minute, gone the next. It was wild and crazy, but it proved the point she had been trying to make for years. All time is relative. One minute, she was a resident of New York in the twenty first century, the next she was on a boat heading to Ellis Island in the twentieth century. But she remained unaffected. A smoker's hack afflicted her though not a single cigarette, cigar, or- as she called them- cancer stick had ever touched her pale pink lips that were once smooth but were now dry, cracked. Her brown hair hung damp against her forehead though she had just been dry. Her alabaster pale skin had a sickly pallor to it.
"Where you from?" A tall, burly man asked her. She sniffled, mustering up her voice.
"Ireland. You?" She asked, her voice having a distinctive accent to it. The man replied with "England" and that was the end of their conversation.
Hours later she was walking in a line, spacing out and not paying attention. She heard people; talking, yelling, crying, laughing. In all mental states, in every emotion. The feather light beat of blood in their vessels, the almost silent 'tap tap tap' of nervous scuffles. A breath in, air whooshing through their lungs then back out as they exhaled. It took focus, extreme, concentration, to tune her hearing that finely. Something she had practiced on for years before she mastered it.
Before she knew it she was last the doors, clutching something in her hands.
"Think." She told herself. "Who have you been sent back to save?"
Charlotte Elizabeth Winchester or, as she preferred, Charlie, was a time traveller who couldn't control when she travelled back in time. She was always sent back to save someone and had to do so or she's have to start over.
In a sick sense, it was a game, and she was the player, doomed to restart time and time again until she succeeded. She could use any structure from any time period, up until the year she travelled from. This proved itself to be extremely useful when she was stopping someone from jumping off a building that had been torn down and rebuilt larger.
A glance at the paper in her hand told her that her name was still Charlotte, but her last name was Rogers instead of Winchester. Rogers. It was familiar. Just thinking of the name brought an image of a blonde superhero she had heard of. Captain Steve Rogers, or Captain America.
That must be who she was sent to save, Charlotte decided. Or he was the one who needed someone to be saved.
Charlotte hadn't even taken a single step before the world around her blurred together and she was pulled to a new location from her navel. She'd always imagined this was what using a portkey would feel like, if she were a character in the Harry Potter books.
The new location was a train. It was currently empty, but she assumed that this was the would-be death site for someone... for the person she would give her life up to save.
That's how this worked. Charlotte would travel back in time, find who she was assigned to save, and die in their place. Or take their place in the event that the person who hired her to do this chose. She always died, even if the person she was saving didn't die before she was hired. It never made much sense, but she grew to learn that leaving herself notes was beneficial. Especially when the person hadn't died in the first place.
Charlotte paced to pass the time. She wouldn't be visible until the moment arose, couldn't do anything until it was time for her to step in. She couldn't even hear what was going on.
Then, all at once, she could. It was a split second change, suddenly she could see the man who hired her and the man she was hired to save. She knew what would happen next if she failed.
The brown haired man, the one she was hired to save, would fall off the train. He wouldn't die, but he'd be severely injured. She knew what she had to do.
Charlotte pushed the man away from the side of the train just in time for a person wearing all black to fire at the trio. The shot, a blue beam of energy from the looks of it, ricocheted off a shield and hit the side of the train, blowing a hole open. Charlotte shoved the man away again, out of harms way, and slipped a piece of paper into his hand then was pushed from the train by an invisible force. She didn't bother with trying to catch herself, she crossed her arms over her chest and closed her eyes.
It was over in an instant. Painless and sudden. Just like ever other time was.
And then she was waking up on a plane and the blonde man from the train, the man who hired her, was there.
"Who the hell are you?" He asked. Charlotte froze.
"The person who's taking your place." She answered vaguely. "Take one of the parachutes. I'll crash the plane. I don't have anyone to live for."
It took some fast talking and flat out lies, but she managed to convince the man to let her take his place.
Crashing a plane is easy if you have no idea how to fly. Charlotte knew she wouldn't even have to try.
Her death was not quick. It was not painless. It was slow as she froze, her teeth chattering and her eyes stuck shut.
Then it was over and she was waking up in her apartment in the present. Her shirt was sticking to her skin and she was starving. As she got up to get food she noticed that something was wrong.
The blonde man who hired her was gone. There was no sign of him ever being there. Charlotte smiled faintly and changed her mind, deciding food can wait. Instead she walked down to the Smithsonian to see the Captain America exhibit. The first thing she saw was a full color pencil drawing of herself.
"This is the face of a woman who not only saved Sergeant Barnes and Captain Rogers, but the rest of New York as well." Read the caption. Charlotte smiled to herself and explored the exhibit a little more.
Just when she turned to leave, she saw a few familiar faces. Sergeant Barnes and Captain Rogers were watching her with smiles on their faces, from a projector screen. She stared at the projection screen until she was pulled aside by a woman with a job for her.
A time traveller's job never ends. After all, time is only relative.
