ᴄʟᴀᴡꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴅᴇᴍᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ⤷ ʟᴏɢᴀɴ ʜᴏᴡʟᴇᴛᴛ

.𝟎𝟑

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The mansion was quiet in the late hours of the night, the only sounds being the occasional creak of the old building. Rogue had been unable to sleep, her thoughts tangled up in the events of the day. As she wandered the dimly lit corridors, she found herself drawn to Logan's quarters.

Her footsteps were soft as she approached his door, hesitating for just a moment before giving a gentle knock. When no response came, she slowly pushed the door open, hoping not to disturb him if he was at peace. But the scene that greeted her was far from peaceful.

Logan was thrashing wildly on his bed, sweat glistening on his forehead, his face contorted in distress. He was murmuring, but the words were jumbled, too incoherent to make out. The intensity of his nightmare was almost suffocating, and Rogue froze in the doorway, unsure of what to do.

"Logan?" she called softly, her voice trembling with concern, but he didn't seem to hear her.

Suddenly, in a violent motion, Logan's claws extended with a sharp snikt, slashing through the air. Rogue's heart leaped into her throat, and before she could react, one of the claws caught her abdomen, tearing through her skin with a searing pain that made her gasp.

Stumbling back, her vision blurred from the pain, Rogue clutched at the wound. Logan's eyes snapped open, wild and panicked as they focused on her. Confusion and horror flickered across his face. "Help me—Somebody help!"

But Rogue didn't answer. Instead, she reached out with a trembling hand, placing it on Logan's face, her power surging through her as she absorbed his life force. The gash in her abdomen closed almost instantly, but it left Logan seizing from the sudden loss of energy.

Just then, Lottie burst into the room, her heart racing at the sight before her. "Scott, grab a pillow, quick!" she called out, her Southern drawl laced with urgency as she knelt by Logan's side.

Scott appeared in the doorway, his expression tight with concern as he hurried over, placing the pillow under Logan's head to keep him from injuring himself further.

Rogue, her voice barely a whisper, managed to say, "It was an accident...I didn't mean to..." before she bolted from the room, overwhelmed with guilt and fear.

Lottie watched her go, her heart aching for the girl. She turned her attention back to Logan, who was still fighting against the effects of Rogue's touch. "Easy, darlin'," she murmured soothingly, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "It's gonna be alright. Just breathe."

Logan's breathing gradually slowed, the tension easing from his body as Lottie's calm presence washed over him. Scott stood by, his jaw clenched, knowing that the guilt from this incident would weigh heavily on both Rogue and Logan.

Lottie stayed with Logan until his breathing evened out, her hand resting gently on his chest as she kept a watchful eye on him. "Ah'm here, sugar," she whispered, her accent thick and comforting. "Ain't goin' anywhere. We'll get through this, together."

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The atmosphere in the room was tense, thick with unspoken concerns. The Professor sat at his desk, his hands steepled under his chin, deep in thought. His expression was more troubled than usual, a shadow of worry crossing his face. "It's strange," he began, his voice low and reflective. "There are more powerful mutants out there. Why should this one be so important to him?"

Scott stood nearby, arms crossed over his chest, his stance rigid. "Maybe it's his way with people," he offered, his tone carrying a note of skepticism that was hard to miss.

Lottie stood a little to the side, her arms loosely folded as she listened. Her gaze flickered to Scott, noticing the tension in his posture and the tightness in his voice. She liked Logan well enough, though she could see why Scott might feel otherwise. "You don't like him?" the Professor observed, his tone light, but his eyes sharp as they rested on Scott.

Scott shrugged, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "How could you tell?" he replied, his voice tinged with mild amusement.

The Professor gave a slight nod, his lips quirking up. "Well, I am a psychic, after all," he quipped, his attempt to lighten the mood only partially successful.

Lottie let out a soft chuckle, her Southern accent lending a warm, melodic lilt to her voice. "Scott's got a way of lettin' his feelin's show, even when he's tryin' not to," she teased gently, trying to ease the tension in the room.

Before they could delve further into their conversation, the lab doors suddenly swung open with a loud bang, startling everyone. Logan and Storm entered in a rush, both of them clearly agitated. Logan's face was a mask of barely restrained anger, while Storm's was etched with worry.

"Where is she?" Logan's voice was rough, almost a growl, as he stormed into the room.

"Who?" the Professor asked, immediately picking up on the urgency in Logan's tone.

"It's Rogue," Logan bit out, his voice tight with anxiety. "She's missing."

Lottie's heart skipped a beat, her concern evident as she stepped forward. "Missin'?" she echoed, her voice rising slightly with worry. Her eyes darted from Logan to the Professor, her mind already racing with possibilities. "What happened? Where was she last?"

Logan's jaw clenched as he tried to reign in his frustration. "She was in her room, but now she's gone," he said, his tone rough with guilt and worry.

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"She's at the train station," the Professor stated, his voice calm but laced with urgency.

Logan's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. "Where is it?" he asked, his voice gruff with determination.

"A few miles west of here," the Professor replied. "Logan, you cannot leave the mansion. It's just the opportunity Magneto needs."

Logan shook his head, already set on his course. "Listen, I'm the reason she took off," he insisted, his tone brooking no argument.

The Professor's gaze was steady. "We had a deal."

"She's all right," Storm interjected, trying to soothe the tension. "She's just upset."

The Professor nodded, turning to Storm and Scott. "Storm, Cyclops, find her. See if you can talk to her."

As they began to move, Lottie glanced at Logan, noticing the hard, determined look in his eye. He was already turning to leave the corridor, his mind clearly made up. Without hesitation, Lottie followed closely behind him, her footsteps quickening to match his stride.

"I'm comin' with ya," she blurted out, her voice firm despite the flutter of nerves in her chest.

Logan stopped in his tracks, turning to face her with a scowl. "No, no you're not," he growled, his tone leaving little room for discussion.

But Lottie wasn't one to back down easily. "My mind's already made up," she countered, her Southern drawl steady and unyielding. A small, confident smile played on her lips as she held up the keys to Scott's motorcycle. "Besides, you'll need a ride."

Logan looked at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. But Lottie met his gaze without flinching, her resolve as strong as the steel that laced his bones. Finally, with a resigned grunt, Logan snatched the keys from her hand.

"Let's go," he muttered, turning on his heel and heading towards the garage.

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