Down The Rabbit Hole

four

four; Wild Wild West

Logan wakes up in pain. Her leg is throbbing and her throat burns, as if she's been screaming all night.

She groans lowly, bringing her hand to her head. Her fingers lightly touch her greasy hair. But, it's not greasy. It actually feels nice.

What? She opens her eyes, sitting up and looking around wildly. She's in someone's room. It's definitely not Arthur's or the bottom of the ocean.

Hell, this room looks western.

"Little lady, I'm afraid I have to change your bandage on you leg-" A blonde stops in the doorway, his mouth open slightly as he stares down at the awake young woman.

His blue eyes are wide, covered by glasses. His handsome face is covered in dirt and grime, as well as his western get up.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't think you'd be awake yet." He says in a slight southern drawl, "You've seemed to go through a lot before I found ya down by the creek."

"Creek?" She finally questions, her blue eyes squinting in confusion. That doesn't make sense. She was in the ocean, dying. Not playing in some creek.

"Yes ma'am, you were almost dead when I found ya. Bullet wound in your leg, barely breathin'. Scary sight to see," He sets the bandages down, "I'm Alfred F. Jones."

"I'm Logan." She replies, thinking of what happened to Arthur. Is he okay? Did that dick hurt him and take Ambrosia?

"Well, miss Logan, I might as well patch you up while I ask you a few questions." He sits on a wooden stool, smiling politely as he removes the blanket.

Under it, she's wearing to big of shorts and a plain white tee shirt. After having a mini freak out about who dressed her, she looks back at Alfred.

"So, my first question is why is your hair blue? Are ya sick or somethin'?"

"I dyed it this color." She responses, touching the blue hair, which is turning a green color. Soon, it'll be blonde again,

"Dye?" Alfred hums, "Must some new fancy thing I haven't heard of yet." He light touches the bullet hole, which cause Logan to hiss lowly, "Are ya a pirate?"

"Wha-"

He stops what he's doing to look up at her with a small questionable look. "It's an easy question, miss. You either are or ain't."

"No, I'm not a pirate."

She can't really consider herself one. She was only on the ship for a week and she hardly did anything besides see a mermaid and walk the plank.

"Where did ya get those clothes?"

"Well, I meant a pirate and he gave me those clothes," She pauses, "Cause I'm pretty." She adds for a decent lie.

Alfred nods, as if he actually believes her. "Alright, well, I reckon I better get you some better clothes to walk around in. I might know a lady who will let you borrow her dresses."

"No, I can wear jeans." She states defiantly.

"Little lady, your wound is very swollen right now. It wouldn't be the greatest idea to wear pants." Alfred gives her pitiful look.