Chapter Text
And he turns and turns.
"Nowhere. Nowhere."
It is his oath.
He is the light, The keeper.
He is not to leave.
The Inland Lighthouse - James McMichael
Act I: The Cliffs
James met Regulus on the coast.
The beam of the lighthouse in the distance signaling that life was nearby—shining through the fog.
It was a stormy day, the sky hanging heavy. James could barely see where the sky met the ocean, it all blended together in an endless stretch of grey.
The joining of two lives. Two fates intertwining.
He had his arms tucked close to his body, trying hopelessly to fight off the chill. James wasn’t sure what the point was, but his instincts still had him hunched over against the brutal wind.
Winter of 1978. What a bleak, hopeless kind of year. A long year.
December came in a bitter and callous sort of way.
James’ boots were sinking into the sand, the waves were lapping at the shore. He stood there at the end of the world. He wondered if this greyness was what he could look forward to in the afterlife. Just nothingness. It felt preferable, but that wasn’t something he ever said aloud.
Somewhere behind the clouds, the sun was surely setting, though James couldn’t see it.
He looked for a sign, a beam of light stretching out from behind the clouds.
There was nothing but dense clouds and choppy waves.
He wondered what his mother would say now. He figured he’d ask her soon.
If she’d been here, maybe she would have been his lighthouse. She was always so bright, a beacon of light calling James home. Before illness left her face shadowed and her eyes dull.
I want to go home. I just want to go home.
James tilted his head back, and out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement. Spinning, James squinted.
At first he thought maybe he’d lost his mind, truly this time. But no, James wasn’t imagining it. His eyes caught the shadow, the outline of a person.
He could just barely make out a figure on the cliffs in the distance. They were standing at the edge, wearing all black. For a moment, James still almost wondered if he was dreaming.
Many strange things had happened in his life. Happenings that James caught out of the corner of his eye, which his mother always demanded he turn a blind eye to.
“No matter what you see, you pretend you don’t. The world is full of strange, dangerous things. If you don’t look at them, they can’t touch you. No one else will notice them, so you don’t either. Remember this. No matter what you do, remember this, James.”
James should have turned away. The figure looked like a ghost, something that didn’t belong in the mortal world. James had been instructed to never chase ghosts, but just this once… what did he have to lose?
Boots squelching in the sand, James started off down the shore, heading for the cliffs. It took him a good chunk of time and a lot of heaving breaths to make it up there, but when he did, the figure was still standing there. Maybe they were looking for a reason, too.
Closer, James could make out dark hair and pale skin. It was a man, standing there in dark, unusual clothing. James had never seen anyone dressed like that. The way the dark fabric billowed out in the wind, it made sense why he’d thought this was some kind of ghost. The man didn’t look like he belonged here.
“Jumping?” James called.
The man spun, clearly startled.
The wind was blowing his dark curls wildly, the ocean framing his severe figure. He had a sort of otherworldliness about him with high cheekbones and a sharp jaw. Eyes that cut right down to James’ bones, black in the night, a swirling storm that matched the landscape. They flashed in a way that screamed danger despite the gaunt, haunted look on his face. James wasn’t scared, he didn’t feel much of anything anymore. What was the difference if this man or the ocean killed him? Death was death.
The man reached into his robes (James figured that was the only way to properly describe his outfit) probably for a weapon of some sort, and James raised his hands in surrender. “If you’re going to stab me or something, that’s fine. I was here to jump, too.”
The man froze in his movements, eyes flicking over James’ face.
“I wasn’t going to jump.” His voice was lower than James had expected, ragged and rough, but full of conviction.
“Then slit your wrists with that knife you’re hiding?” James gestured to the hand that was still under his robes. “Whatever it was, I’m not judging. There are worse places to die. Better places too, but…” James glanced around at the dark cliffs, unrelenting cliffs. “It’s a little poetic. And some good things have happened here, might be a comfort at the end. My mum used to take me here as a kid, reminded me that there are things bigger than us as we looked out at the horizon.”
“If you’re here to kill yourself, go do it and leave me alone. I don’t need your life story.”
“I was,” James said simply. “You distracted me. I half thought you were a ghost or something, but you’re not.”
“Well, be on your way, then. This isn’t your business.”
It wasn’t. But… up close, James could see the man wasn’t very old at all. No more than seventeen or eighteen at most. James wondered where he’d come from and what had brought him up here.
“You don’t care why I’m here to kill myself?”
“No.”
James hummed in response, folding his arms in a useless attempt to shield himself from the wind. “Is that why you’re here, because you’re a shitty person who doesn’t care why other people might be driven to suicide?”
To James’ surprise, the man reacted to that. His lips thinned, jaw tightening. “No one is exactly singing my praises.”
“Mhm, mine either. Though…” He sighed. “I don’t think I’m a terrible person. I hope not. I just don’t have anyone to sing them. My parents are dead, and they never really let me know anyone. All they left me with was a house and some memories. Shameful thing to leave without ever making a mark. Did you make a mark?”
This time, the man didn’t reprimand James for his rambling. Though he didn’t exactly encourage it either.
“I will,” the man said hoarsely.
“How, if you’re going to kill yourself?”
“My death will mean something.”
“You someone important?”
“I’m not, but I will be.” There was such dark conviction in his voice that it made James pause.
“I hope it’s worth it,” he said quietly. “Or you find your lighthouse.”
“Lighthouse?” His expression flickered, like he wanted to frown but stopped himself from reacting.
“That’s what my mum called it. A reason, I guess, a spot of light in the darkness. A little cheesy. But I’ve lived on the coast my entire life, and it’s a fitting metaphor. She liked her metaphors, but…” James glanced up at the sky. “It’s dark tonight. I’d rather die when the sun is out.”
The man stilled, and under the sharpness, there was something almost… sad, despite the fact that he didn’t seem to give a shit about James’ life. “Then come back when the sun is out.”
James tilted his head to the side, examining the strange man. “You stole my thunder anyway,” James muttered.
With that, he turned on his heel, leaving the man to stand on the cliff and decide if tonight was the night he died.
James decided he’d come back tomorrow. When there wasn’t someone taking up space on the cliffs he’d meant to jump from. A naïve, hopeful part of himself thought that if he went home tonight, maybe the man might do the same.
He went home, climbing up the creaking porch steps just as the rain began to fall.
There was no one waiting for him, no porch light left on.
In James’ mind, he was fifteen, running up the steps as the rain beat down. Dropping his bike in the yard as he skipped the second broken step, throwing himself into the house. The lights were on and his mother was at the stove cooking dinner. His father was at the table, tucking away a paper as soon as James came in. James was used to that, them hiding things from him, conversations cutting off as he walked into the room.
His father looked up. “Pushing curfew tonight, aren’t we, James?”
“Sorry, sorry, the storm made the ride take longer today.”
“No matter, sweetheart,” his mum said, turning from the stove to kiss him on the forehead. “You’re here now, set the table, please?”
“Course, Mum.”
Nineteen-year-old James toed off his muddy boots in the hallway. The house was dark and cold, the kitchen was empty. He didn’t see the imprint of his parents’ figures as he slumped down at the table. The stove was dirtier than his mum would ever keep it, there were dishes left in the sink.
James started some water for tea, watching the flame dance, the only spot of light in the dark house.
He wondered if the man on the cliffs was dead by now. It was a numbing thought. How fleeting life was and how easily it ended. Would anyone miss him? Did he have family, loved ones, friends? Would they mourn him? Or was he like James? Maybe he had a cold house somewhere out there, too. One that would rot in his absence. Maybe people would cry at his funeral, maybe no one would ever know he’d died. He wasn’t from around here, James knew that much. Strange people stood out. Everything was quiet and mundane in this town.
James had always figured that was why his parents had picked it.
He drank his tea in the quiet, wondering if this was his last.
He hadn’t really planned it. Not for tonight, anyway. He’d just wound up at the water. One more day was doable. He’d go to work, eat something nice. He wouldn’t leave a note because there was no one to read it. But maybe the sun would be out, and he’d see his mother in the rays.
One more day.
__
James woke to another grey and dreary day. Rain was pattering softly on the windowsill and the sky was overcast.
He wasn’t surprised. Maybe that was the real sign.
Hauling himself out of bed, James padded down the creaky stairs. He listened to the clock tick on the wall, he picked up the paper from outside. It was the same old news, just a different date at the top.
James had another cup of tea; this one he was truly sure was his last, so he tried to make it good. He even went full out for breakfast, making an actual meal when normally he didn’t bother before work.
He smiled at the coworkers he didn’t really know, nodding good morning to them as he tied his apron.
“Another day,” Susan, who worked in the kitchen, sighed. Another day indeed, just as slow and mundane as the ones before. She began talking about her kids and her husband. James nodded and responded in all the right places, though he didn’t really hear a word she said.
A customer got angry at James when he messed up their order, and he just blinked in reply. Yes, just another day.
By the time he got off, his legs ached and the rain had stopped, though the sky still looked bleak. Fog rolled in, and James wondered why he’d bothered to go to work today.
He told his coworkers, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” though it was a lie.
James walked up his front porch, he skipped the broken step. He opened the door to silence, just as he did every day. No one was in the kitchen, no one was down the hall or in the living room. The paper sat untouched on the table where he’d left it that morning.
He sat down and just…
Nothing.
James stared at the wall; the clock ticked.
He didn’t know how long he sat there before he stood suddenly. Then, just like the night before, James shoved on his boots and headed back outside. Like the day before, the sky was grey. Still no sun, but what had he expected?
Sometimes, James wondered if he’d been dropped in the wrong life. He always got the feeling that there was somewhere else he was supposed to be. He longed to go home, but this was it. This was all he’d ever known, just fewer people and a darker house. What else was there? Another barren, cold life in another place he knew less? Somewhere without the memory of his parents engraved in every shadow? Another dead-end job under the same grey sky?
He supposed he could run away. Go live in limbo somewhere more exciting, France, or maybe America. But what difference would it make? He could go to fucking paradise and it wouldn’t bring back his parents or get rid of that off-center feeling in his chest. Like every day didn’t fit quite right.
So James went back to the ocean, to the cliffs. He wondered about all the lies his parents had told, all the missing pieces. What were you running from? He wished he’d gotten the nerve to ask before they died. What were you hiding? Why drop me here? Why leave me with… this? Did you think it’d be enough, or did you never consider what I’d do without you?
It all could have been a lie. The lighthouse, the beam of light, the reasons. James didn’t have any reasons, he didn’t have anything. Nothing worth living for. Maybe his mother had been wrong. She was also so optimistic, James couldn’t replicate her demeanor.
He stood in the sand again, watching the line where the ocean met the horizon. He remembered his mother standing here, and he hated her a little for leaving him with nothing but memories.
I just want to go home.
Home was not the empty house, or even the memories of when it wasn’t. It wasn’t something James had ever touched or felt.
Thinking of last night, James looked to the cliffs. There weren’t any police or reports of a body, but it’d probably take them a while. Especially with no witnesses and if there was no one to notice the strange man was missing.
James wondered how long it’d take anyone to realize he was dead. The only ones who might notice his absence were his coworkers when he didn’t turn up for his shift the next day.
James stopped suddenly, as he registered a person. The same man from the night before, still wearing black, still standing on the cliffs like no time had passed at all. Had he even left? Or did he go home just like James, only to come back?
Taking a deep breath, James started the trek up the cliffs. Somehow, it felt like it took longer than the night before, and he almost slipped and fell on the slippery rocks a few times. When James made it up, he was out of breath, and he took a moment to steady himself.
“Back again?”
“As are you,” the man said without turning around. Maybe he’d heard James coming this time, or maybe he was waiting for him.
“Still no sun,” James murmured. He stepped forward until he was beside the man, flopping down to sit on the wet ground.
“Does that mean you’ll come back another day?”
James brought his knees to his chest, resting his chin to stare out at the water below. “Don’t see the point, really.”
James was surprised when the man suddenly sat down as well. He hadn’t seemed receptive to James’ presence the night before, but maybe he was lonely too. Maybe felt the same pull James did. They might understand each other.
“Neither do I. Time will pass, but not much changes.”
“No, it doesn’t,” James agreed. “Why are you doing it?”
“Reasons bigger than me.”
“Then why didn’t you do it last night? Do you have someone who would wait up for you?”
The man turned, his grey eyes as dark and heavy as the unforgiving sky. “No.”
“Yet you lived through the night.”
“I’m a coward.”
James laughed at that. “As am I. Stalling, I suppose. Don’t know what for.”
“Why are you doing it?” the man asked.
James shrugged. “There’s not any reason not to.”
“And that’s reason enough to kill yourself?”
“I… I wake up every day in my empty house, built around secrets I’ll never know because they were buried with the people who kept them. I don’t have any family or friends. I work in a restaurant just to buy groceries, feed myself so I can keep living to go to work the next day. I don’t feel like I belong here, and I never have. But now I don’t have any reason to stay. So, yes, it’s reason enough. I am… nothing, I have nothing. I’ll probably always have nothing. I could live out a pathetic dead-end life, or I could kill myself. The first option isn’t very compelling, if we’re being honest.”
“You could find something to live for.”
“I can’t imagine something like that even exists. Not anything big enough.”
“Okay,” the man said simply.
“I’m James, by the way.”
“If we’re both going to die, I don’t see the point in introductions.”
“That is the point, I think. We’re two dead men. You’re probably the last person I’ll ever speak to. Maybe I’m the last person you’ll ever speak to.”
“Does that mean much?”
“Probably. It’s probably poetic or something.”
“You have a twisted sense of poetry.”
“Or an accurate one. I don’t know, I was never very good with literature anyway. Did terribly in school, but poets always seem so fucking depressed. We’re here on the same cliffs, taking measured breaths. I have no reasons, and you have big ones. The least you could do is tell me your name. It won’t make a difference, I’m nobody and I’m going to die soon anyway.”
The man was silent for a long moment. “I’m Regulus,” he said finally.
“Strange name.”
“And James is a boring one. It’s not strange where I come from.”
“Where do you come from?” James frowned. “You sound British.”
“It’s not that far, yet another world entirely.”
“That’s not really an answer.”
“It’s the one I have for you.”
James huffed at that, surprised to find himself amused by the other man. “What reasons could you possibly have?” he asked abruptly. “You speak as if it’s life or death, like by dying you’re doing something big. But death is just death. I don’t see a difference between yours and mine.”
“I… am not a good person. I’m a terrible one, really. This is my penance.”
“So by dying, you think that’s justice? You know that’s what the law is for?”
“The law won’t help with this.”
“Then it can’t be bad.”
“On the contrary,” Regulus muttered. “That means it’s worse than your small brain can imagine.”
“Have you killed people?”
“I never wanted to.”
That was not a no. James should have been scared. But he didn’t get the feeling that Regulus was a serial killer or something. He just… seemed young, scared, remorseful. Distinctly human.
“You can tell me,” James said softly. “There are no consequences for telling a dead man secrets.”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Then water it down for my small brain,” James rolled his eyes.
Regulus took a deep breath. He looked out at the water, his gaze heavy. “…I got involved with some bad people. It was my choice. I wanted to. My family is… they’re hard to please, and I wanted to go beyond just upholding their standards. I wanted to shape the world for them. So, I made a choice. I worshipped a very terrible, cruel man, sold my soul to him. Because I wanted to. No one forced me, I did it. I realized too late that I couldn’t stomach his methods. That maybe my entire worldview wasn’t quite right. If I die, it might end it. My death could destroy him, stop the bloodshed and war.”
War? What war?
James frowned deeply. “How old are you?”
Regulus’ brow creased. “Eighteen.”
“And how old were you when you made this choice?”
“…Sixteen.”
“Then maybe it’s not as simple as you make it out to be.”
“We can debate my morality, it hardly matters. What matters is that I have a chance, it’d only make me a more selfish person to give it up now because I’m afraid to die.”
“Then you don’t really want to die? You just think you have to. Isn’t there another way?”
“I don’t think so,” Regulus muttered. “This is… my one good thing. It’s my only way out.”
He said good thing, in the same way James said lighthouse. Like he was repeating back words someone else had said to him.
“Couldn’t you run away? Leave the country, hide somewhere?”
“I could, but that would be selfish.”
“Or you’re just being stupid. I don’t think there’s ever just one answer. You seem smart, you could find another way. If you don’t want to die, don’t.”
“I’m not sure I should be listening to a man who came here to commit suicide.”
“That’s exactly why you should. I don’t have any reason to lie. I don’t have any motives at all. I’m just telling you the truth.”
Regulus didn’t reply. A few moments passed, punctuated by the crash of the waves. James scrambled up suddenly.
“Come on,” he said, holding out a hand.
Regulus’ brow furrowed. “What?”
“Come home with me. I’ll cook you dinner, you can put on some normal clothes. Take a second to think about if this is your only option. If you decide it is tomorrow, fuck, I’ll drive you back out here myself.”
“I thought you were going to kill yourself. Change of plans?”
“Momentary hold,” James shrugged. “Death isn’t going anywhere. It’s the only constant, really.”
Regulus still didn’t move. James stretched out his fingers. “You sent me home last night, I’m still waiting for the sun. Come on, let me return the favor.”
“I’m still here today,” Regulus whispered. “I think you already did.”
“Well then you owe me, and I request you let me take you home with me.”
“No, I think we’re already even, actually.”
“The sun is supposed to come out tomorrow.”
“I don’t care for the sun.”
“You might want to see it one last time anyway.”
Regulus sighed heavily, but after a long pause, he stood, brushing off his black robes. “Fine.”
“Really?”
Regulus just shot James a dark look. “Come on, dead man, lead the way.”
James just smiled, despite the gloomy night and the unforgiving sea. Despite the suicide note he’d never written and the last cup of tea he was supposed to drink.
They made their way down the cliffs together this time.