A/N: Welcome to Chapter 2! Thanks to everyone who read and liked the first chapter! I know that Kuroshitsuji/Black Butler isn't a huge deal anymore, but I've loved it since the very start, and I appreciate you guys caring enough to check out this odd little fic of mine. :D

Anyway, this chapter has...Joker! Yay! :D


Chapter 2: Scurra


His first thought was unoriginal, but still in need of answering.

Where am I?

He moved to sit up, struggling because of his missing arm.

That's right...his arm...

He'd had a prosthetic, once. But the cost had been too high in the end, and the sickening truth behind it had disgusted him to the core.

Don't think of it now, he told himself, fighting against the wave of despair that rose up to choke him. Focus. Where am I?

Looking around, it seemed like he was in an alleyway of some sort, between a pile of trash and a stack of old wine crates. Back in the gutter, he thought glumly, then frowned. Because he last thing he remembered frombefore this was...pain. Pain and darkness and two performers who had turned out to be so much more. The unsmiling Smile and the butler Black.

That had been the end. His end.

So he really shouldn't have been 'back' anywhere.

He was dead.

But if he was dead, what the hell was he doing sprawled out in a grimy dead-end alleyway?

"Oh, good," a stranger's voice called out from the end of the alley. "You're where you're supposed to be. That's refreshing."

Startled, he looked over to see a woman in a black dress approaching him. She had a youthful face, and he would have called her pretty if not for her unusual eyes. They were a bizarre yellow-green, and paired with the red-framed cat's eyes glasses she wore, made her appearance more striking than attractive.

Especially once she stepped into the light and he realized that her long flowing hair wasn't black like he'd first thought, but rather a dark, dark green.

He'd seen more than his fair share of strangeness over the years, but something about this woman set off a warning bell in his head. Something about her just...wasn't right.

"You must be the first of the group, I guess," the woman was saying, seemingly unperturbed by his obvious uneasiness. "What do you call yourself?"

"Joker," he said slowly, eyeing her uncertainly.

"Joker? Huh. You were the Pierrot then, right?" She frowned at him suddenly. "What's that freaked out face for?" she demanded, then made a face of her own. "dammit." She patted at her head before snagging the fallen hood of her coat. "It's the hair, isn't it?" She sighed. "Yeah, that's me, spinach hair." She gave a rueful smile. "Sorry if the color offends, but there's nothing I can do about it. And trust me, I've tried."

He had no idea what he should say in response to that, so he just stared at her. "Uh..."

To his surprise, she laughed. "Relax," she told him. "I don't bite. Unless you want me to," she added with a wink.

He gave a snort of laughter before he could stop himself. "I'll keep that in mind," he said, lips curving in amusement as his unease slowly receded. "Who are you?"

"Ethelinda Baines," she responded promptly, giving an elegant little curtsy. "But you can call me Linda."

"Not Ethel?"

"Hell no. I"ll shoot you."

He chuckled. "Noted." He looked at her more closely. "I have another question."

She arched an eyebrow. "Just one?"

"Several questions," he amended. "But one about you specifically. You might be offended," he added.

Ethelinda rolled her eyes. "Sweetheart, please." She shook her head. "I set the record for asking offensive questions. Nothing you ask is going to ruffle my feathers, I assure you."

Well. No point in dancing around it, then. "What are you?"

Her smiled dimmed a little but her voice remained bright and chipper. "A reaper," she said cheerily, eyes bright as if she were saying something exciting like 'princess'.

He, meanwhile, was completely at a loss. "Wait, hold on." He held up his hand. "A...reaper? As in...an angel of death?"

"I'm definitely not an angel," she replied, looking amused by the idea. "But I am a collector of souls, yes."

"Are you here for mine?" Joker asked, finding himself more curious than alarmed by the thought. He deserved his fate, after all. He'd done terrible things. He'd thought it for a good cause, to protect those he loved, but in the end it had all been for nothing anyway. Yes, he thought that if this strange woman were here for his soul maybe that was only right.

She took him completely off guard by laughing. "Why would I do something silly like that, hen we've gone to so much trouble to get you back among the living again? And with your good arm, too," she added, almost as an afterthought. "Reattaching that can't have been easy for the boys over in Dispatch. Man, I hope they don't bill me for it..."

He stared at her, only hearing the first part of her what she'd said. "Among the..." He shook his head. "But I'm dead."

Ethelinda smirked. "Are you?"

He frowned. "What are you...Yes, of course I am. I remember dying." The Phantomhive butler had cut his arm off and he'd bled out from his injuries while the butler and the Phantomhive boy had finished off Baron Kelvin. He remembered his last wish, that the others had somehow found a way to escape, to get away the darkness they'd been sucked into. He'd known as he'd drawn his last breath, however, that such a wish was hopeless. "I remember dying," he repeated emphatically.

"I'm sure you do," she said agreeably. "But how are you feeling right now? Do you feel dead?"

His frown deepened as he considered it. He was breathing, his heartbeat was strong and steady in his chest. He could feel the wall behind him and the ground beneath him. "No," he said slowly. "I don't."

"Good," Ethelinda replied. "Because you aren't. Dead, that is. Not anymore."

"But...how?" He looked up at her in confusion. "I died. Should I...be in hell?"

"Hell, huh?" She tsked. "Guess Raffin was right his talk of stains, if hell us the first thing on your mind when death gets mentioned."

He scowled, completely baffled again. "What are you talking about?"

She waved a hand dismissively, as if brushing away her previous words. "Never mind." She reached down to him. "Here, let's get you on your feet, shall we? It's hard to get started on a fresh start just sitting there on the ground."

He took her hand in his before he could second-guess the impulse, and the next thing he knew she was tugging him to his feet, bracing him with an arm around his waist when he stumbled.

"There," she said once he'd gotten his equilibrium back. "That's better, isn't it?"

"...Yeah," he admitted. It made it more real somehow, being able to touch this strange person and stand on his own two feet. It added solidity to what he'd honestly been thinking was some sort of post-death hallucination.

"Now, Joker." Ethelinda pulled away and looked at him intently. "Do you understand what's happening here?"

He rubbed his shoulder absently, missing his prosthetic arm and knowing he shouldn't. "Honestly? No." He shook his head. "The last thing I remember is dying. Why am I alive again?"

"Because you're being given a second chance," she told him seriously. "It's not something that happens, usually. Or at all, really. You and the others are very, very lucky to have been selected for this."

"The others?" he repeated.

"Your friends," she clarified. "The tiger tamer, the tightrope walker. Those two trapeze artists, the ones who look like kids but aren't. Oh, and that fire-breather, too, and the knife thrower. You've all been selected to have one more try at life."

Beast, and Doll. Peter and Wendy. Jumbo, and Dagger. His friends...

"Why?" he whispered, his voice cracking. "Why, when we..." He swallowed hard. "We don't deserve a second chance."

"Maybe not," she allowed. "But you're getting one anyway, so suck it up."

He just shook his head. "We don't deserve it," he repeated sadly.

The green-haired reaper rolled her eyes. "Please don't tell me that how you're going to feel about this all the time. Good grief, do you know what I'd give to have a second chance like yours?" She wagged a finger at him. "You're being given a gift. Don't waste it."


A/N: So that was Chapter 2. Sorry if Joker seems OOC, but in my defense he is 1) freshly returned from being dead and 2) a character who was awesome but only starred in a handful of chapters. So. I reserve the right to expand his character as needed. Worry not, though; I love Joker so I won't be irresponsible with him, promise. XD

Next chapter should be posted in a week or two? Maybe sooner if I get a lot of writing done in my spare time. Really busy with school and work right now, though, so know that I'll do my best and try to post chapters as often a spossible, but the average schedule is most likely going to be once every week or so.

Thanks again for reading! See you next time! :D