Unforgiven

Summary: Scott's guilt summons Doom's facsimile
Warning(s): Spanking; spoilers for the arc of The Children's Crusade; some mentions of violence; sadistic

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The nightmares kept coming back.

Scott climbed out of bed, careful not to wake Emma. He couldn't blame Wanda for these nightmares... though she hadn't helped. He walked out onto the balcony and stared out at the world, forever tainted by the goggles he had to wear... for his own sake and the protection of others.

At least Wanda had never dangled sight in front of him, only to snatch it away again.

Scott was sure Doom had never intended to return the mutants' abilities. Whether or not Wanda would have done... at least she would have been the enemy he knew.

He didn't want to admit he couldn't get Billy's words out of his mind. It had been easier to think of Wanda as merely a villain... not that she'd made mistakes, the same as they all had. Because then who could Scott be angry with?

But Scott didn't need to think hard on that answer. Much of his anger was directed at himself. Wanda had just been a convenient... easy... target, after everything that had happened. Losing control of her powers... hurting people unintentionally.. Scott had done that.

His own words rang inside his head. If forgiveness wasn't possible for Wanda, how could it be for him? For any of them? He hadn't acted like a leader.

Scott clenched his fists, hard enough for his nails to dig into his palms. He'd screwed up. He'd made mistakes... how was that any different? Just because Wanda's power reached a larger scale...

How could he face her... after he'd done his best to hurt her? After he'd answered her entreaties for peace with threats and violence?

Scott turned back to look through at Emma in the bed, wishing he still had access to the Danger Room. He could have done with beating someone... or maybe even getting a beating himself, given the strength of his guilt.

If that's what you want...

His surroundings fell away, leaving Scott in darkness. A pinprick of light formed and grew, until it resolved into Doctor Doom's form... whole and healed, as it had been while battling it out with them.

Scott's hand flew to his goggles... but dropped when he found only skin and his eyes. Of course Doom (if he existed outside of Scott's own tortured mind) would take away his defences. "What do you want?"

"The same thing you do."

Scott's mouth fell open, but he found himself without the ability to speak. Was it shock... or Doom's doing? He found solid surface under him and stumbled backwards, but tripped over what felt like a bench.

Before the back of his head could collide with anything, Scott's fall was halted in midair. Invisible hands turned him face down and he found his hands and feet bound fast, bending him over what he still assumed was a bench.

"I think a beating is an appropriate response... but this is far more humiliating."

Scott shivered as he felt his pants slide down over his hips, quickly followed by his underwear. He tested his bonds, but found himself held fast... and vulnerable.

Something cracked, hard and wide, across Scott's backside. His head jerked up as his mouth clamped shut around a shocked yell.

The second brand of fire was as painful as the first, with none of the surprise. Scott tried to push himself up, but he was a prisoner to Doom... helpless to defend himself against the sound thrashing he was being given.

Was this all in his head? Or was he being given the punishment he'd almost hoped for?

He couldn't fight it... and that was the worst. The tears that fell down his cheeks were hot and threatened to blind him.

And then it was over... and the one person he'd wanted to see was next to him, her arms wrapped around him in a hug that offered more comfort than he felt he deserved. He didn't know if it was motherhood or something else... but whatever it was, he was grateful.

The End