The Foolish Fearless

[Pippi]

F07, Amelia Lennon-START

Amelia Christina Lennon opened her eyes.

She immediately closed them again. It was bright, too bright for this early in the morning. She felt dizzy and slightly sick, and her head was pounding.

Jeeesus, how much did I have to drink last night?

At least she’d actually fallen asleep in her own bed, rather than, say, the middle of the street. Not that that had ever actually happened, but still. Amelia turned onto her side, and pulled the pillows over her head, in an attempt to dull the pain of her headache. No use. It still hurt like hell, and for whatever reason, her neck felt... weird. As if it was being constricted.

Slowly, ever so slightly, Amelia opened her eyes. Enough to see out of, but still closed enough to block most of the ridiculously strong light. The ceiling was still there. That’s good. It’d suck to wake up and find out a tornado’s ripped through the house.

Amelia sat up slightly, in order to look around more thoroughly. She wasn’t sure exactly what good it would do her, though. It wasn’t as if her wardrobe was magically giving her a headache, or hurting her neck, was it? Sure enough, the brief glance around her room didn’t bring forth any new ideas. She could partially remember what she presumed was a dream, however; she’d been on a train, and Jeff Buckley had been singing. So that wasn’t the most helpful thing to think of.

Right now, the most sensible thing to do would have been for Amelia to touch her neck, to see if anything was on it causing her pain. However, right now, Amelia really wasn’t in the best frame of mind.

Amelia sighed, closed her eyes again, and returned her head to its original position on her pillow. It was no use trying to figure out why she felt so shitty. She just needed to get back to sleep. Hopefully the headache would disappear afterwards.

[Pippi]

It was no use. She simply could not get comfy. Her headache was getting worse, and her neck was still killing her. Amelia sat up, threw off the sheets, and yawned loudly. Fine, fuck sleeping in. I’ll just go downstairs, grab some cereal, and-

Wait. Hold on one second.

Amelia looked straight down. Jeans. She was wearing jeans. That wasn’t a regular occurrence. She was also wearing her cardigan and... shoes?

Huh. So she had obviously been drunk enough to fall asleep in her clothes, but not enough to stop her from getting to her own house. Was that what had happened? Amelia’s head was still ridiculously fuzzy. She was half-asleep and still recovering from the effects of the knockout gas from the train, although she was still unaware that that had actually happened.

Amelia shook her head. She needed a drink, above all else. She spun herself round so her feet were dangling off the edge of her bed, then jumped off, and instantly tripped over a bag that was there. She landed with a thud and a “Shit!” on the hard wooden floorboards.

Wait. Hold on for another second.

Her bedroom floor had carpet. This was distinctly not carpet. Amelia raised her head. There was barely anything in the room, apart from the bed. This wasn’t her room. So where the hell was she? Cautiously, Amelia stood up. She truly had no idea where she was, or how she’d got there. She just needed to clear her mind and think, and her fall hadn’t helped in the slightest. Okay, so, I don’t recognise this house, so I can’t have gotten drunk last night... the only other thing I can think of is that stupid dream with- wait, no, that’s it! I actually was on that train, going to that... trip... thing.

Brain working the fastest it had been that day, and yet still leaving out the knockout gas, Amelia tried to formulate some sort of idea about what had happened. So, they’d been on the train, on their way to... wherever this place was. She must have hit her head or something and been knocked unconscious, and as soon as they’d arrived she’d been carried upstairs to this bed. That was reasonable, right?

It didn’t matter too much now. She was here, and she was awake, and that was the important thing. She needed to find her friends quickly, and make sure she hadn’t missed anything important pertaining to this trip... whatever it was for. Amelia picked up the bag she’d tripped up over. Although she didn’t recognise it, it must have been placed in her room for a reason, and the most logical reason would be that it was hers. She slung it onto her back, pushed open the wooden door, and headed off to find her friends.

((Amelia Lennon continued in Ranch Hands))