Chapter Text
Stede Bonnet wasn’t sure he’d brought the right sort of hammer. He was like most people in that he had thought, before today, that hammers were not the sort of thing that had a ‘right sort’. Before today, he had thought that hammers were all rather interchangeable really and any one you picked up would do as well as any other.
But that did not seem to be the case.
Stede looked at the stubborn nail, its sharp end barely sticking into the plaster of the wall, a little bend in its middle.
He was hitting it hard enough he was certain, his brow wet with exertion and his wrist sore from the repeated shock of metal striking metal. There was a little box on a rickety old table by his side, filled with the rest of the nails he would need to place the sheet of drywall to the wooden wall frame. In the middle of the quite dusty room sat a little box of assorted tools, though it contained no other hammers.
Perhaps it wasn't the hammer but the nails that were the issue.
Stede sighed and set the hammer down on the weathered table top. He’d found it when he’d arrived, drowning in a plastic sheet on the circular ground floor common room of the lighthouse. It was a bit stained and one of the legs didn’t seem firmly connected to the rest, but he was quite taken with its rustic charm. After a bit of polish and repair, he thought it would be just the thing to eat breakfast on on a quiet morning.
Turning slowly, Stede looked over the second floor space he was currently standing in. It was a round room, like the one beneath it, the floor bare of furniture, the walls bare orange brick.
Stede grinned. Once he had built this wall around the little toilet and sink, he’d be able to start on the rest.
And oh was he excited to start on the rest. He had bookshelves ordered and a moderately sized bed was on the way as well. He’d finally decided that a little nook for the bed would be best. Snug walls at either end with a curtain to draw around to keep the space warm and close as enclosing arms. Then he could put little drawers beneath it to store whatever he so chose.
It was all perhaps a bit above his experience level, all this custom work. But he’d read up on renovation and brought a fair number of relevant books and tools along with him.
Between those and a can-do attitude, he supposed he’d get on splendid. He’d never had the chance to build something all his own before. It was all rather exciting.
And time consuming. Since his arrival at the beginning of the week, he’d been so busy clearing moldering bits of this and that, as well as sweeping all the dust and cobwebs that he’d had very little chance to think about what he left behind.
There were moments, like this one, when it crept in, a confusing jumble of pain, guilt and joy.
Stede was a terrible person, he knew. A man should not feel joy at abandoning his family.
But he did. And it sat in his chest, tugging like a kite trying to fly away.
His thoughts were interrupted by a soft sound. He looked up. Was it coming from the equipment room?
When purchasing the lighthouse, he’d expected to deal with some vermin. Roaches, mice, perhaps even rats. But up until now he hadn’t seen any sign of any of them.
Well, if they’d finally shown themselves, he needed to take a trip into town anyway.
Stede climbed the round little metal stairs until he could poke his head up to see over the floor of the equipment room. It was dusty and dimly lit, the lights off and the light from the overcast day barely reaching through the dusty windows.
He listened for a moment. The room was silent.
He took a few more quiet steps up into the room
Then nearly fell to his death at a sudden, thunderous boom.
Grasping at the railing of the stairs, he barely kept his footing. His breath was loud in the sudden quiet that followed.
“Gosh,” he said, pressing a hand to his chest. He could feel his heart beating against his ribs through his palm.
What had that been?
He rose up into the room and looked up. The ceiling of the room was the roof of the lighthouse, the metal stairs winding up into the dark space until they reached the…
The door to the lantern deck.
Suddenly, Stede knew what that sound had been. He'd heard it before after all. The door was a heavy wooden beast of a thing that tended to slam shut if left to its own devices.
But the puzzling thing was why it would have opened at all. Had he left it open? No, he was certain he hadn’t. In fact, he was also certain he had latched it.
Which meant that someone must have been up here to unlatch it. Which explained the rustling sound that had drawn him up here quite nicely.
Well, this was turning into quite a little mystery.
Stede wondered who his visitor might be as he ascended the stairs. A spy seeking shelter from a dastardly villain? A wayward youth searching for a moment alone with the sea? A vagrant looking for a warm place to spend the night? A person down on their luck looking to rob him?
Such possibilities!
Stede’s heart was beating with something only a little like fear as he reached to door.
But when he turned the old, creaking handle of the door, the platform beyond was empty. Completely empty.
Stede stood there a while, looking out at the choppy grey sea and tried not to feel disappointed.
_____ ~*~_____
“Hello there!” Stede said, hauling his basket of purchases up to the front counter. The man with the rather kind looking face gave him an unimpressed look. Then his eyes widened.
“Oh shit,” the man said, then turned his head, “Jim!”
A small person in a long coat poked their head from amongst the shelves.
“Oh,” Stede said, “Um, hello! My name is Stede Bonnet.”
“I’m Oluwande,” Oluwande said, eyes still quite wide, “This is Jim.”
“Well, its wonderful to meet the both of you.”
“You the one living in the lighthouse?” Oluwande asked.
“Why yes I am. It’s a fine place in a fine town by my reckoning.”
Oluwande and Jim shared a look.
Stede felt a bit uncertain.
“Is everything alright?”
Oluwande nodded, “Oh yeah, everything is great.”
Stede did not miss the way Jim had begun to shake their head before mimicking Oluwande. But after a moment of watching the two of them shake their heads for entirely too long, he chose to chock it up to a local peculiarity. It wouldn’t do to pry too deeply into people’s private affairs. Especially at a first meeting.
“Well, in that case,” Stede said, leaning an elbow on the counter, “Do you know of a local carpenter who might be interested in a commission?”
_____ ~*~_____
Stede did not get back from his errands in town until the sun was well set below the horizon, only the faintest glow of blue and purple left of what had been a truly glorious sunset. Now the moon was rising, nearly full and pouring silver over the wet grass and rocks beside the road. Stede had rolled the window of the truck down to feel the ocean wind sweep smooth over his skin, a shivery brightness perhaps like happiness in his chest.
But then, like a returning wave, the guilt swept in behind it.
Happy. What right had he to be happy.
He sighed and gripped the wheel of the truck a bit tighter.
At the lighthouse, he brought the few bag of things he’d bought into the main room. Then carried the little stack of two by fours into the shed to the side of the house.
Then it was time to make a spot of dinner.
He was chopping the fresh lettuce and carrots into a brightly colored salad when he felt a strange shivery feeling on the back of his neck.
Setting the knife down, he turned, for some reason half expecting someone to be there. But the room was empty of anyone. Just a few tall stacks of boxes against one wall and an old chair.
Stede sniffed a laugh at himself. Less than a week and he was already going strange. Perhaps he was more suited to this role than he’d previously thought.
He turned back to happily chop at his salad, missing the soft glint of something beyond the dark opening for the stairs in the ceiling. Something watching from the room above.
_____ ~*~_____
Stede rather thought he had figured out the hammer situation. The moulding in the common room was going up quite nicely. It would look just lovely when he added the wallpaper to the walls he’d built for the bathroom and mud room. Really pull the space together. Then it would be time to get the carpets put in. Then, finally, furniture.
Oh he was so excited for it all!
So excited that on the next swing of the hammer, it came down firmly on his thumb.
“Ouch!” he cried, reeling back.
The whole ladder he was currently perched on wobbled startlingly and he reached out with his throbbing hand to better steady himself.
Once the ladder’s trembling had settled and he avoided toppling to the ground, he pulled in a breath and looked at his thumb.
The edge of the nail was bleeding a bit, a thin line of bright crimson. He’d best put a bandage on it before it began to drip everywhere.
He grasped the ladder and looked down to begin descending. Then he stopped, frowning.
The boxes along the wall, mostly containing books and some knickknacks for when the bookshelves came in, were all open. Their flaps were splayed wide, the contents exposed.
Stede climbed down the ladder and moved closer to inspect them. The contents of the boxes appeared…disturbed. As if someone had gone looking for something.
He did not think this sort of thing was from shifting during the move. He’d been quite particular about tucking everything away carefully into each box. Wrapped in paper and clothe where appropriate to avoid that very thing.
As they were now, most of the boxes wouldn’t even be able to close, they were so disordered.
“What on earth…” Stede murmured, staring at the boxes.
Then he noticed one of the boxes was mostly empty. He thought for a moment and then his frown deepened. That box had contained very little. A few framed pictures, which were present. But the object that had taken most of the room in the box was missing.
Puzzled, Stede looked around the room again.
He found the object in the bedroom, sitting on his pillow. A ship, delicate and enchantingly sailing a stormy resin sea within a clear crystal bottle.
Stede stared at it for a long moment from across the room.
Then he grinned.
A haunted lighthouse! What fun!
He wondered where it had come from. Was it an old person. A child? Had it died of loneliness? Violence? What did it look like? If it looked like anything at all.
Oh but he hadn’t even introduced himself!
He hurried up the stairs, turning around once to release some of the excitement zinging through him.
Then he held still and cleared his throat.
“Hello,” he said, “Spirit from the beyond. I am Stede Bonnet. Please to make your acquaintance.”
He gave a little bow.
“If you are a peaceful spirit I think we will get on quite well. Please let me know if there is anything you’d like changed. I’m renovating the space for a little bit of color but the final goal is… well, coziness.”
He grinned into the silence, refusing to be embarrassed for talking to the empty air. It was just him here to see anyway. Well, himself and the ghost, of course. If it was here at all.
He glanced at the ship in a bottle on his bed.
No, he certainly wasn’t alone in the old lighthouse.
_____ ~*~_____
Really, he and the ghost got along quite well all things considered. Sometimes things moved about and he had quite a time looking for them. His best silk robe, bright red and floral print, appeared in the strangest places. He heard strange noises at all hours that he didn’t always investigate. Doors opened and closed. Furniture moved. The contents of the tool shed were rearranged into configurations that defied reason.
On Stede’s third week at the lighthouse, the bookshelves arrived. He was in town for groceries when the carpenter, a Mr. French, flagged him down to inform him of their arrival. It was all very exciting and by the end of the next day, they had them all installed in the main room and the bedroom.
Even with the shelves still empty, their presence really made the space feel, perhaps, like a real home.
Then Stede was left alone to the delightful chore of placing his books, bookends and knickknacks on the shelves.
He got, perhaps, a bit carried away.
It was late into that night, a storm pounding at the windows outside and the lantern left to shine happily away above, that Stede found himself atop the ladder, placing a potted pothos atop the center bookshelf in his room. It was a large, stately specimen, with long branches he could drape over the entirety of the shelf tops. Perhaps he could even get them to dangle down the sides someday. Wouldn’t that look lovely.
He had just gotten the pothos arranged to his liking and was admiring it when a vicious crack of lightning rent the air around the lighthouse, glaring into the window with and almost immediate explosion of thunder.
Stede tried to center himself. But it was too late. He and the ladder toppled.
He reached out a feeble hand to stop his fall.
But it was so very far to the ground.
_____ ~*~_____