A/N: This is the chapter that warned about in the beginning of the book. Once again, if you are uncomfortable with reading anything about Dub-Con (borderline non consensual sex) please feel free to skip this chapter. You'll pretty much be able to guess what happens. This scene does NOT contain any sex explicitly, only hints at that it will happen. I place this warning here because I know some people may still be uncomfortable with the idea.

This isn't a physical type of Dub-Con, it is a mental type, FYI. If anything, it's a psychological picking apart of ones mind. Attacking them verbally to downsize them, make them feel weaker, smaller, and nearly destroy them mentally through words.

Fascinating. Like the psychology aspect. Not the other stuff. Uhhh... *clears throat* Just read it I guess, or don't. *hums HOLD ME TIGHT, OR DON'T by Fall Out Boy*

Oh no no no this isn't how the story ends...

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Edwards P.O.V.

I was sitting in my room keeping an eye on the cameras I had placed over the city so I could know if anything happened while Ridley was out. They'd left a few hours ago, and nothing had happened yet, but something most certainly will. I smiled slightly, Ridley had been so reluctant to go it was almost cute. I knew that no harm would come to her if Harley could help it, she was disturbingly attached to Ridley.

Switching to a set of cameras that overlooked one of the places that I knew Harley was fond of robbing, a small store that sold a variety of different brands of clothes and jewelry, I glanced up when I heard my door open.

"Don't you know how to knock?" I asked irritably, pushing up my glasses and turning around.

"You already know it's me, so why bother?" Jon said, shutting the door behind him.

"It common etiquette," I replied, crossing my arms.

"Like you know what that is," Jon said with a laugh. He wandered over to my bed and flopped down.

"Make yourself at home, don't you?" I mutter. "What do you want?"

"Well, I was wondering where Ridley went," Jon said, staring up at my ceiling.

"Why the sudden interest?" I asked suspiciously.

"I'm not interested," Jon said.

"But you just asked—"

"Yeah," Jon interrupted, "because every time she's off doing something, you're up here sulking."

"I'm not sulking," I retort.

"Then what do you call this?" Jon asked, sitting up and spreading his arms. "You've been stuck up here for hours, probably since she left, and you're also trying to figure out where she is at the moment."

"What makes you say that?" I said, getting defensive.

"I know your habits," Jon said, "they're not that hard to figure out and track."

"So why ask in the first place?"

"Why not?" Jon stood up and walks over to me. "Maybe it's because I'm trying to be nice. Maybe it's because I want to know for certain that she's gone."

"And why would you want to know that?" I ask, tilting my head up and biting my lip.

"Are you really asking that question?" Jon replied. "Ever since she came into our lives we haven't gotten proper time to be together."

"Whenever we do have time, we end up yelling at each other." I turn back around in my seat and focus on the screen again.

"Edward," Jon said. I could feel him hovering behind me as he reached over and turned my computer monitor off. I stared at both of our reflections as I just sat there. Jon moved his hand from the computer and placed it next to my own.

"Jon?" I ask uncertainly, what type of game was he playing? One that could easily figure out, no doubt.

"It's really interesting," Jon mused, "how you act in certain situations. Particularly ones like these. Tell me, have you noticed how needy you are?"

"I'm not needy," I said, but it was more to myself than to Jon. Was I though?

"Those are the lies you tell yourself," Jon purred. "Did you not think that I wouldn't notice? I am a psychologist after all."

"I'm well aware of that and could care less."

"Did you know," Jon said, voice hardening, "that I psychoanalyze people in my spare time?"

"You're a psychologist," I said, repeating what he'd just said, "of course you do."

"Well, if you know that, then you also know that what observations I make about you will most certainly be accurate."

"Are they now? Do tell me what mental illness I suffer from," I said sarcastically.

"Why would I?" Jon said with a grin, "when you can just guess? You do love a good puzzle after all."

"Not when they're about me," I said, shifting uncomfortably at Jon's closeness. Was it just me or was he inching closer? "It's like a joke, it's only funny or interesting when it's not about you."

"So you're not interested in learning more about yourself?"

"You're the narcissist, not me."

"Well, you're the one that's acting like a histrionic needy bastard," Jon said.

"Is that what it is now?" I asked, mildly interested.

"It's not that easy to figure out," Jon chuckled. "That's just a hint. Figure out the rest for yourself."

"I'm not needy," I repeated.

"Oh really?" Jon said, disbelievingly, "then how do you describe your attitude towards Anna?"

"You know nothing of that," I bit out, getting tired of this.

"I know enough that you craved her attention and followed her around to the point where she got sick of you and chose to go to a college far from Gotham."

"That's not true!" I flew to my feet and Jon stumbled backward to avoid a collision. "Take that back!" I rounded on him.

"Why would I?" Jon said smugly. "It's true, you just don't choose to see it."

"She went to Central City because they had a better degree program for her!" I protested. "Not because of me!"

"Regardless," Jon said, waving a hand, "you liked someone who was eight years older than you, while you were a kid, I might add. I have my theories about that."

"Please, enlighten me," I said dryly.

"I theorize that you liked Anna because she reminded you of someone you loved and lost," Jon said, "you mother."

"That's not-"

Jon held up a hand, "Let me finish. You're need to commit crimes and always be better than everyone else stems from how your father treated you. I imagine that a lot of your more personal problems come from the fact that you never got over the loss of your mother."

"Wh-what does my mother have to do with this?" I stiffen at his words. Why bring that up, of all things? I'd never once talked about her, simply because she had absolutely nothing to do with how I was now. I didn't want people thinking she did. My mother was wonderful, she loved me and encouraged my love for puzzles. My father on the other hand...

"You lost your mother at the age where you needed her the most." Jon eyes sparked with hunger, a hunger to figure out and lay bare who I was. I shuffled backward slightly, a bit nervous on where this was heading. "Having that happen to you must've been awful, yes? And without a mother, you latched onto the next acceptable person, a person who treated you similarly to how your mother treated you. That person was Anna, but then she left you too. Now where did that leave you? Desperate for any sort of affection and acknowledgement."

"Y-you're wrong," I said, voice wavering, "I don't-"

"Am I?" Jon raised an eyebrow. "Is that what you think? Is Don't you crave for someone to hold you, comfort you? Some who can pat you on the head and tell you that everything will be alright?"

He ran a hand up my arm and I shuddered involuntarily.

"You want someone who will never get tired of you, or leave you," Jon continued in a low voice. "Someone who you admire and respect, a person that you look up to. Not necessarily someone smarter than you, but someone who's intelligence level is worthy enough to warrant your attention. I have another question for you," Jon added before I could respond. "You know that I'm manipulating you, right?"

"O-of course I do," I said, running my tongue along my bottom lip. Jon traced the movement with his eyes before raising them to meet my own.

"Then why," he asked, "are you letting me? I don't think you want me to stop."

"W-what are you... I don't know what I- why?" I furrowed my brow, confused about what was going on and what I was feeling. I shouldn't be feeling anything towards Jon, and yet— yet— I somehow was. It was defined or clear, but I was definitely feeling something.

"You will do as I say," Jon said, striding up to me and gripping my upper arms so hard that I flinched. "You will do it because you can't help it and you know that there is nothing you can do to stop it."

"J-Jon, I-"

"What do you want, Edward?" Jon fixed his piercing gaze on me, a devilish smile on his face. He knew what I wanted, or at least what I thought I wanted, he was just wanted to hear me say it.

"I- I want... I need... help...?"

"Hmmmm..." Jon pondered what I said. "I suppose that will have to be enough. I'm in a lenient mood right now, lucky you."

Sure, I felt very lucky right now.

I let out a surprised yelp as Jon forcefully pulled me toward him, and I landed against his chest.

"Poor little Eddie," Jon crooned. No, not Jon. Only Scarecrow called me 'Eddie'. Things always ended up badly when Scarecrow was in charge; I shivered.

Scarecrow ran a hand up my back before grabbing my hair and pulling my head back and a malicious grin spread across his features.

"D-don't hurt me," I practically whispered.

How was it possible that he could strip me down until I ended up like this? A complete mess that could barely make rational thought. Psychologically breaking me to get what he wanted. It should've bothered me, like everything else, but who was I kidding? It wasn't, at least not as much as it should've.

"Only if you want me to," Scarecrow's smile widened. "It'll be just like when we work together, yes?" His grip tightened, "I will only do what you need me to do, nothing more and nothing less."

"Usually Jon's in control at those times," I mutter unhappily.

"Does it really matter?" Scarecrow inquired. "We're the same person."

"No, you're not." I tried to wriggle away from him but it was useless, that thin frame was deceptively strong. "Two different minds, yes, but the same person? No."

"Stop being disagreeable, Edward," Scarecrow snapped. He took a breath and I bit my lip.

"Don't you want me, Eddie?" His grin twisted into something sinister.

"W-what makes you s-say that?"

"You lost Anna, so you naturally became close to the first person you came into contact with that acknowledged your intelligence. That just so happened to be Jonny Boy." Scarecrow let out a bark of laughter.

"N-not true..." It was bad when Jon decided to psychoanalyze me, but when his other half did? That was worse, it meant more suffering.

"You like someone who mothers you, don't you, Eddie?" Scarecrow tilted his head. "You want someone who will constantly praise you, tell you 'You're such a good boy, Edward' and 'Mommy's so proud of you'."

"Th-that's wrong! Sick!" I said, horrified that he'd even say such a thing. Something like that... it was even above Scarecrows' level of creepiness.

"I wouldn't do anything like that, trust me." Scarecrow let out another dark chuckle.

Oh, the irony of 'trust' with him.

"But," Scarecrow said, hauling me up roughly so that we were as eye level, "why else would you want me? It's your neediness."

He gripped my chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing me to meet his eyes. A smile crept across his face at my expression, "Your intelligence is your greatest asset and your greatest weakness. Aren't you tired of thinking all the time? Don't you want someone else to take the lead? You spend your whole life trying to find out everything there is to know in the world only to discover that it's impossible. Who will be there for you when that reality comes crashing down on you? You need control in your life to prevent it, but the problem is, it's out of your control and you know it."

"N-no..." I whined uselessly, "t-that's not- I don't need... anyone..."

"Shhhh," Jon said. Yes, Jon was most certainly back in control now, and I was oddly grateful for the fact. He brushed his thumb over my trembling lips, "it alright, I understand. You've been unintentionally leaning on me for all of this, did you know that?"

I shut my eyes tightly, not wanting to acknowledge it. I knew that Jon liked me, but I still didn't want to accept it. I didn't need anyone to "take care of me" and most certainly not Jon.

"You need someone to help keep you from self destructing..."

I- I don't need...

"Someone you trust who will tell you everything will be alright..."

...need someone...

"A special someone who will be impressed with your intelligence and not degrade you for it..."

...someone I...

"A person who can grab your life by the horns and set things right. That's what you want, right Edward?"

...want...

Jon released me and I opened my eyes and stared up at his face before freezing. The voice and mannerisms where Jon, but the face... that expression... was purely Scarecrow.

"See what you do?" Jon asked quietly, reading my expression. "You make me, truly me. No fighting with Scarecrow, we both want the same thing so we are going to work together to get it."

I didn't know what was worse, Jon and Scarecrow agreeing and working together on something, or the fact that Scarecrow wanted me as well as Jon. Both were pretty bad.

I let my gaze wander around my surroundings, desperate to look at anything but him. He was so tall though... my mind became fuzzy, making it hard to think. Thinking... for the first time I wondered what it'd be like not to, if just for a moment. No! I couldn't let myself go down that path, Jon was manipulating me, but damn, it was working well.

"I-I'm not sure a-about this... I-"

"Shut up Edward," Jon instructed.

"Don't tell me to-"

"I said, SHUT UP," Scarecrow yelled.

I shut up.

"Now then," Jon settled down, "you will do exactly what I say, but first you will answer my question."

He paused and waited for me to agree. I gave a stiff nod, only because I was hesitant about Scarecrow being in control. They may have agreed to work together, but that meant Scarecrow already had a solid foothold in Jon's conscious mind. That meant that it'd be easier for him to take control permanently.

"Alright then," Jon said with a satisfied smirk. He leaned forward so that his lips brushed my ear. "Tell me Edward, can you tango?"