Disclaimer: I do not own any of the fictional characters and/or none of the plot from the Kuroshitsuji anime and/or manga and any references are nothing more than that, references.

Claimer: I do own the plot of this story and my Original Characters.

Enjoy!

"...Did you ever think as a hearse goes by,
that you may be the next to die?
And your eyes fall out, and your teeth decay,
and that is the end of a perfect day."

-The Hearse Song by unknown artist-

The girl was out of view behind one of the huge many baskets of plums in the room. She felt her eyelids heavy as she stood in the middle of the line of tired men and women. She was the youngest and the only child in the room.

The man with the small leather covered book and rusty dip pen passed each one of them and wrote down the number of fruits in their respective bins; she called him the Counting man. As usual he didn't need more than a look to the plums to know how many were in each basket. He scared her and she had a feeling that the others felt the same way.

"Breno; 90." The man stated as he wrote the number on his book. "Average."

Her lazy eyes landed on the other man at the end of the room. He wore a brown suit and watched the scene with a rigid stance. She had never seen him before, but whenever there was someone else besides the Counting Man in the room, someone was taken away. She straightened herself and fought back a snore.

"Bianca, 56." He stopped by the young woman by her side. "Below average."

Clara's head dropped and she fell to her knees. She didn't do so much as complain when two men entered the room and dragged her through the door. The woman must have known it would make it all more painful.

"Clara, 127." The girl turned her head up to The Counting Man. "Above average." He threw a glance to the strange man as to hear his opinion on this statement. After receiving a quick nod, he continued on the line. When two more people were taken out of the room and he was finished, he informed the girl to stay put as the others were dismissed.

"You're coming with me, girl…" The strange man had a matching strange accent when he spoke. From his spot next to the door he signed her to come. They left together.

….

"I had a dream."

Plum walked in the small kitchen that could barely fit more than two people with a sleeping Little Peter in her arms and a frown in her face.

"That is terrible, what happened to it?" Undertaker questioned. Standing in front of the stove, he smiled while mixing what smelled like soup. "And good morning to you too, love."

"Oh, good morning," She stood awkwardly by the door while playing with Little Peter's thin hair. "There was a girl called Clara in this dream…" She pouted when the baby started squirmed. "…Maybe it was a memory."

"Hmm...Perhaps you and this girl are somehow related?" He suggested and Little Peter started to move more roughly in her arms. "…Perhaps you are Clara? That is if you fully accept the 'memory' theory, something that might considered if the dream was full in detail, if not I in my honest opinion would think of it as just an odd coincidence, simply a meaningless dream," He paused and took a long breath before continuing. "Although, you might be an avid reader of those modern dream interpreter's books and believe in all of this, but I wouldn't know that because you didn't actually tell me much of your history, besides the fact that you needed shelter for you and your baby last night and the fact that you have lost your memories…" He turned to her with a large smile and extended a bowl of steaming hot soup. "… the later, I gathered from your morning rambling, of course."

Plum stared petrified at him for an entire minute until he put the bowl down on the counter next to her and grabbed a spoon to eat his own, seemingly having given up on her response. It took two more minutes to come.

"Wai-b-but…How?" She stuttered with a shocked look as Undertaker continued to sip on his soup. "…my morning rambling?!"

"You speak while you sleep," He commented simply. "And drool a bit too."

"Why-" The woman was interrupted by the soft whinnying of the child in her arms, who seemed to finally wake up since they first met. Little Peter's sparkling blue eyes shot open with tears and Plum's expression quickly turned from shock to worry.

"…and I suppose you mentioned something about being a virgin too," The man added with a smirk, making her shoot him an incredulous look while trying to hold the baby's arms down. "Therefore you can't breastfeed your hungry 'son' can you?"

"Oh, alright he isn't mine!" She admitted what she was sure he already knew. "I found myself with him last night; how could I leave alone?"

"You certainly couldn't." He put the newly empty bowl on the sink and walked over her. "Although, it would be rather nice to know if your guests suffer from a hard case of amnesia before you offer them shelter, wouldn't it?" He tilted his head to the side and she felt like a child being reprimanded by their parents.

"…I suppose it would."

"Positively," He grinned at her, not at all seeming offended by the fact that Plum had lied to him, even if it was with the best of intentions. "There is a cow in the backyard; wait on the morgue and I'll bring the milk."

The man disappeared through the backdoor as soon as he finished his sentence.

"Thanks…" Plum said to no one in particular, fully aware that he had left already. "…morgue?!"

After that, Plum spent the rest of the day watching Undertaker work on what he called 'guests' and deal with his customers, sometimes laughing at the man's usually successful attempts to scare his clients. She wasn't all too comfortable with being stared at awkwardly by every person that entered the place, but she assumed the surprise was because it wasn't common for the strange man to have any company other than his clients, as she heard a woman whisper to her husband on their way out.

Plum didn't have any memories of friends or family, but she could gather from the common sense that Undertaker wasn't exactly normal by any modern society's patterns. She doubted however, that he could be so eccentric that no one wished to be too long in his presence… among so many people in the world, how could someone be so unique?

Her thoughts were interrupted by the click of boots on the wooden floor. She looked up to see Undertaker turning the plaque on the door backwards, making the word 'CLOSED' visible outside. Plum was surprised at how fast had this day passed.

"It's an interesting job, I suppose…" She commented. "…I mean, you meet a lot of people, no?"

"It's very kind of you to try to compliment the darkest of professions," The mortician smirked at her while locking the door. "And yes, I'm known by almost all London hehehe~" He stated that with a proud giggle in the end.

"It's the least I can do with you having offered me and my partner shelter, sir."

"Drop the 'sir' love, I'm no queen's knight," He waved her off, smiling.

"We are still grateful…" She put a finger on her chin in a thoughtful way. Plum wouldn't lie: she wasn't as fond of her host's job as he obviously was. However, he did offer her a place out of the rain when she and Little Peter needed most and that was something she would ever be grateful for. She ignored Undertaker's presence in the room for a whole minute, thinking of a way of compensating the man. When an idea came to mind, she put her finger up in the air. "Maybe, I could work for you? Help around the shop? Hopefully anything that doesn't have to do with corpses?" The woman looked down, meekly. "Not that I'm being picky, no, not at all…"

"Hmmm…" He placed a hand in his chin, mimicking her thoughtful expression from before. "…Well, even though I would truly appreciate someone to help me with my guests…" He paused, as to wait her interruption. It didn't come. "…which would be rather fun and educational…" She remained silent. "…I suppose this old house place could use some cleaning." He ended with a somewhat disappointed sigh.

"I can do that!" Plum didn't exactly remember whether or not she was a good cleaner, but it was more than worth a try. "I think."

"Terrific! You can work for me," Undertaker placed both palms together. "If you wouldn't mind doing a few other errands, I could even call you my little helper!"

"Oh and what an honor that would be," The woman giggled.

….

Undertaker wiped the quill's end from ink with his sleeve and put it aside along with the papers he'd been writing on.

The man sighed; he had always hated paperwork. He now thought it was quite foolish of him to think that leaving his old office would rid himself of it.

After helping himself of a bath and changing into his night attire (which basically consisted of a flannel version of his usual clothes minus all metal accessories and boots), he crept down the main hallway, pausing before his bedroom's door.

Undertaker opened the door only wide enough for him to poke his head inside and see the two sleeping forms on the bed. Plum slept soundly, murmuring random words and sentences about herself, possibly bits about her past that she wouldn't remembered while conscious. He wondered how Little Peter managed to stay asleep by her side on the mattress.

Quietly closing the door behind him, the mortician walked back to his morgue with his usual Cheshire grin plastered across his face:

"Company at last."

Oh my gawd, thank you for all the views, favorites, follows and good stuff! You're the best :3

I know this chapter was kinda short (I usually never write a chapter shorter than 2K words) but I realized it's harder for me to finish this longer chapter and well, it's better to have lots of relatively short chapters than a few long ones.

So, tell me what you think, contact me if you want and be happy! It's good for you :)

R & R in the name of love!

Sweetooze :D