"Now, why would I do that?" There was almost a laugh in his voice as he said it, all spread out in his chair like he fancied himself a king on a throne. A pen nimbly danced around his thick fingers, the ink cartridge shifting about inside sounding loud through the tension. 

"Because I am," Edward insisted. He wished he could stop his knee from bouncing. Bruce looked so calm and collected in comparison. Edward's fidgety tics made him look nervous. Uncertain. "Just because I'm several steps ahead of you doesn't mean I'm wrong. You'll see it when you catch up." 

"And if you missed something crucial when you skipped ahead?" It sounded like a taunt. Edward hated being taunted. 

"I didn't." 

"You didn't miss something, or you didn't skip ahead?"

"Both!" Edward's fingers dug into his hair, tugging it out of its styling. The gel had given up a while ago. "Neither! I'm not-" He took a deep breath, forcibly calming himself. His fingers tented, elbows resting on his thighs. The knee resumed its bouncing with a vengeance. "I'm not wrong, and I'm not missing something. You're hung up on an irrelevant detail. My explanation makes everything else make sense. Yours is needlessly complicated and, frankly, a stretch." 

The pen tapped against Bruce's knuckles, keeping time with Edward's bouncing leg. "I thought you liked complicated." 

Edward frowned at him, narrowing his eyes over the rectangular frames sliding down his nose. "If you're trying to imply-" 

"I'm not," Bruce assured him. "Not in a way that's personal, anyway. What I mean to say is- We can't afford to rule anything out. If we get it wrong, more innocent people get hurt. It's not about winning or losing. This isn't a game." 

"Of course it's a game!" Edward huffed, rising to his feet. He paced around his chair in a circle, leaning with both hands to the chair back to glare Bruce right in the eye. "If it weren't a game, it wouldn't be worth playing at all!" 

Bruce's jaw tensed, his nostrils flaring. Edward's shoulder throbbed, an old fracture that had only mostly healed reminding him of what that look could mean. A part of him wanted to poke, to prod and wheedle and rile him up, missing the old patterns for their familiarity. This whole cooperation thing… it seemed as unpredictable as it was fragile. 

…But he held his tongue. "All I mean is… won't people also get hurt if we do nothing? If the answer is right in front of us and we sit on our hands, biding our time for an inch more certainty… aren't any further incidents also our responsibility?" 

Bruce's eyebrows raised, the frustration in his face dropping away into surprise. "That's… a fair point. You could be right about that."

For all it implied no violence, it was a clear threat.

"No!" Edward shouted. Panicked. Hoarse. His nerves were already frayed to their limit, seeing Batman show up at all, and being jerked around like this wasn't helping one bit. He grasped at the glass, as though he could reach through and pull his Batman back to him, but his fingers only slid uselessly down the smooth surface.

"Then answer me!" Fury snarled across his face, the fire of his fallen angel.

All that was left for Edward was to mourn. The vessel in which he'd poured his hopes, standing before him revealed a sieve.

"I know you know more than you're saying," his angel insisted. The fire suppressed, only flickering still in the intensity of his gaze. "I know you have answers!"

"We could have been partners," Edward lamented, mouth moving before his thoughts, prayers given voice. "You need me. Need what I could be for you, but you threw it away, and for what?"

"You're delusional," Batman spat. "You're wasting my time."

"Exactly!" Edward wailed. "This entire argument is a waste of your time! Instead of accepting my help-"

"I don't want your idea of help." The flames licked higher again. The shadows seemed to grow behind him, all the darker for his light, like the spreading of some great black wings.

"Is it vanity? Simple obstinance?" Edward wondered aloud. "Or do you simply crave control so desperately?"

Something in the face below the mask twitched at the accusations. "Tell me what I want to know, or I walk out that door."

"You'll walk out regardless once you have what you want." Edward sank into the chair, the futility of it all crushing down on him, growing fatigued under its weight. "The only avenue for keeping you here is withholding your answers."

With a roar, a fist collided with the glass. The impact reverberated softly, the barrier hardly rattled under his impotent fury. It was disappointing, seeing him like this. An avenging angel, collared by his own hand, twisted and writhing and useless, for no cause but his own pointless reservations. If only he could get close, could gently pry his wings free of the twisting, trapping ethical scruples that constrained him.

If only he was not bitten every time he drew near.

"You could be so much more," Edward mourned. "We could be. Just let me-"

With a flutter and a slam, he was alone, the air no less oppressive for the angel's absence.