CHAPTER 3 The Mirror of Love and Reality
This is continuing Character 2 so please if you haven't read chapter 1 & 2 it will be in the comments so you can find it better. And it will make a little more sense on what's happening in this story.
(2,013 words if you care)
TW: It does briefly give the thought/imagine of self harm. _________________________________________
The Ranger stays paused in time as the bird's chatter rises and falls like a chorus rehearsing the glories of something unspoken. A breeze stirred the leafs, whispering secrets that couldn’t quite be heard. The air felt thick, as if the forest itself held its breath waiting for Ranger’s reply.
Everyone’s silhouette remains locked in place, caught in the same stillness that followed through Ranger’s escape from the phantasmagoria. With each pulse of their heart, their vision blurs and sharpens again. They gasp for air, the tingling in their fingers dissipates. Ranger’s mouth hangs open, searching for words that won’t make an appearance. Their shoulders heave, breathing unevenly, the need to escape the horror and feel real again is indescribable. Through blurred vision they get a glimpse of Claire pressed against a tree, a brown figure creeping closer, sunlight flashing against the dark object they clutch in their hands.
The once Charlotte shaped outline re-molds itself to something unco, then emerges through a light orange to warm yellow beam of light that's been cut off by a white cedar tree. A deer with a scar on its shoulder trailering down to its chest, scanning the air for hostility just by scent. The deer took strategic, precise steps closer to them. The Ranger’s eyes widened cause they didn’t expect to be in a dark twisted fantasy at 8:47 in the morning, let alone the deer they rescued from a barbed weir fence not too long ago, the deer steps closer, switching its attention between Claire and Ranger.
Claire leaned forward, her gaze tracing Ranger’s face with a mix of curiosity and quiet comfort as their eyes locked on the deer. She saw everything from behind the lines behind a rope, behind a wall. No matter how you phrase it, she wasn’t inside their mind; she couldn’t protect them or guide them through that prison. Yet she was here, always here. Even as they hold their gun with the safety off, she never felt unsafe. She might have let go of their hand but her trust in them never wavered. The world slowed; the wind softened; silence gave way to the rough ordinary sounds of life.
Ranger stays locked on the deer, their hands shaking, the barrel of the gun trembling with each breath. Claire searches Ranger’s beautifully lit eyes, eyes that seem lost somewhere beyond this realm, disassociated by the sight of the remarkable creature standing before them. The scar on the deer’s chest catches Ranger’s mind and for a millisecond it feels as though the world itself holds its breath.
Claire inches towards them, knees and legs covered in dirt, her breathing trembles as she gets in Ranger’s sight line, forcing their gaze onto her dazzling eyes. The world narrows to the space between them. She lays her palm gently on top of the barrel, the metal is cold beneath her skin, she points it down at the ground. Only then does Ranger realize how close they were to letting a bullet fly, how close the moment came to breaking everything.
Ranger throws the gun, the metal clattering against the ground with a sharp echoing thud. The sudden motion startles the deer, its ears flick back, muscles tightening and in an instant it bolts, sprinting into the darkness beyond the trees.
Claire flinches at the sound, her breathing catches in her throat as she watches the animal vanish into the shadows. Ranger sits on the cold soil frozen in place, chest rising and falling, eyes wide, the echo of the gun’s fall still ringing in their ears. The forest feels emptier now, the silence heavier as if mother nature itself swallowed the moment whole.
Ranger stares at their hands as if the filth clinging to their skin could never be washed away. The tremor in their fingers spread up their arms, a slow quake of disbelief hits them like a wave. Every breath feels borrowed in their chest, every heartbeat seems far too loud for this type of silence.
Claire watches, observes from a distance while the Ranger doesn’t look up. They can’t. The shame sits heavy in their throat like if they had a shard of glass stuck.
“I could have…” The words barely leave their lips, trembling, unfinished. The thought alone feels poisonous. Claire doesn’t answer; she just watches, her eyes widened, the forest’s silence presses against them. Ranger’s breath stutters, the gun lies a few feet away half-buried in leafs, gleaming faintly like a reminder. They flex their fingers as if movement could erase the sight of them holding the gun directly at Claire but the weight of it stays heavy, invisible, and theirs alone.
Their throat tightens.“I could have done it.” The confession scraped out like gravel.
“I could have hurt you or worse!”
Claire scoots closer, slow and cautious, as though approaching a wounded animal.
“But you didn’t,” she says, her voice steady but soft. “You stopped.”
Ranger shakes their head, eyes fixed on the dirt.
“That doesn’t make it better,” They cry. “That doesn’t make my action just evaporate into the clouds.”
“It makes you a human Hotshot!” Claire replies. The words fall into the silence, uncertain but true enough to stay curling around their body. She reaches out — hesitates then lets her hand hover just above theirs, close enough to feel the warmth but far enough to respect the distance.
The feeling of hurting Claire pulsates in every nerve ending in the Ranger’s body. They lift their eyes to meet hers. There's no anger which surprises them, only something that looks too much like trust and love. Ranger loses their grasp on controlling their breathing, they hyperventilate and stare at the handle of the gun, they want to turn back time and make the gun vanish. Instead, Ranger stands. The air feels thicker now, every step they take toward the mound of leafs is measured, deliberately.
They kneel, fingers clawing through the leafs until metal glints beneath. The gun emerges through the leafs, cold and wanting to be warm.
Claire, thinking of horrors, scrambled to her feet. The world seemed to tilt, the air thickens with the scent of earth and horror. Ranger’s movements were slow, unsure if they should commit. Claire’s breathing got caught in her throat. She wanted to speak, to stop them but the words tangled in her chest. The forest held its breath, waiting to absorb the sound of a gun shot.
Ranger grabs the gun, holds it in their palm, stand up, the metal fringed and trembling against their hands. For a heartbeat, the world seems to stop, the forest, the air, even Claire’s breath. Then, they pressed the barrel up to their chin, the cold metal catching the faint light like a reflection of their own fear. The weight of choice presses down on their shoulders, heavy and suffocating. Fingers fiddle with the trigger but then, with a sudden burst of motion, Ranger hurls it away, the gun spinning through the air before vanishing into the undergrowth. The silence that followed felt alive, shaking with everything unsaid. The sound of a dull thud swallowed by the forest which leaves a silence that feels heavier than before.
Claire stops dead in her tracks. For a moment neither one moved. The forest sends a gust of wind in the two’s direction which makes both Ranger and Claire’s hair sway. Ranger’s hand falls to their side, dirt clinging to their skin. Claire observes, unsure whether to reach out or stay still. The distance between them feels like something newly born, fragile, dangerous, alive.
Their knees hit the dirt, the shock of it travels up through bone and breath, a jolt that feels like a punishment. The soil is damp and cold, the scent of earth rising thick and metallic. Ranger’s fingers dig in desperate for something solid while Claire stands in convulsion and adrenal relief.
The world dims in life to the sound of uneven raspy breathing that’s too loud against the hush of the forest. The trees stand like pilers, unmoving, their shadows stretching long and thin. Ranger’s head bows, shoulders shaking and Claire feels the pull to reach out but doesn’t. The space between them is heavy, filled with everything Ranger had seen.
“Ranger…” Claire’s voice breaks the stillness, soft but sharp, cutting through the air like a blade dulled by mercy.
“I don’t hate you nor do I blame you!" Her voice crackles, brittle as dry leafs underfoot. The words hang between them fragile and trembling like they might shatter if either of them breathed too hard.
Ranger’s shoulders tense, a flinch more than a movement. The forest seems to hold its breath with them, no wind, no birds, just the echo of something soul shattering.
Claire swallows, her throat tight. “I couldn’t hate you,” she says barely. “Not after everything you’ve protected.” The words land like a whisper against the storm still raging in Ranger’s chest. The oxygen feels thin as the memory of that moment, metal clattering against stones and shrubs, the echo of choice over instinct playing in their eyes.
Ranger’s eyes flick up, searching hers for a lie.
“What IF I did pull that trigger,” The Ranger stands, the motion sharp enough to slice through the quiet. Their boots grind into the dirt as they close the distance with their breathing trembling.
“You would be gone and I…” Their voice fractures, the words pour out raw. “I can’t handle another person dying in front of my eyes.”
Claire doesn’t move. The air between them feels electric, charged with grief, fear, and something traumatizing. She can see the images play behind their eyes, the way guilt has carved itself into every line of their face.
“You didn’t,” She finally said steady yet soft. “You didn’t pull it.”
The Ranger’s jaw tightens. “But I could have.”
“And you didn’t,” Claire repeats, stepping closer. “That’s the difference. That’s what keeps me loving you.” The words hang in the air like a secret finally being let free. Ranger’s breathing stutters half disbelief, half desperate hope. Their eyes search hers, wide and not convinced that the word “Loving” means love as if afraid the moment might dissolve if they blink.
Claire steps closer, her voice steady. “You think your guilt makes you unworthy,” she says, staring at them. “But it’s the part of you that still feels, that cares, that makes me love you.”
Ranger’s throat cantracked. “You shouldn’t!” They whisper but the words sound hollow, stripped of conviction.
“Maybe not,” Claire murmurs, closing the last inch between them. “But I do.”
For a second neither move. The wind is threading through the trees. Ranger’s hand trembles before it finds hers, fingers brushing like a question. Claire doesn’t pull away.
“You don’t have to carry it alone anymore,” she says. “Let me help.”
Ranger exhales, the sound breaking into something that might be a sob or a release.
“You will,” Claire said. “We’ll figure it out together.” Claire’s voice is soothing but her eyes shimmer with something delicate, something familiar, something unforgettable, something Ranger has seen before.
Ranger stares at her, the words sinking in, like sunlight after a storm. For a minute not one dares to move. The wind sighs through the trees, brushing against them like a quiet witness. Then Ranger’s hand, still quivering, finds hers again. Claire doesn’t get discussed by the (non)existent filth that clings to their rough skin. Slowly, she steps closer, leafs crunching under the two’s weight until the space between them disappears. Ranger’s breath catches, and before either can think, Claire tilts her head down.
The kiss is soft, hesitant at first, then certain. It tastes of rain and forgiveness. When they part, Ranger’s forehead rests against hers. “Together.” They whisper.
Claire smiles faintly. “Always.”
The words settle between them like a promise, quiet but steady. For the first time, Ranger’s mind doesn’t feel like a cage, it feels like air.
Ranger nods, barely. The wind stirs the leafs overhead, carrying away the last echoes of fear.
