The house was filled with the sounds of bubbling water and frying meat. The smell of tomatoe sauce and strong spices wafted through the house. Helena stood stirring lasagna noodles in a stainless steel pot of boiling water with a wooden spoon. With practiced ease the woman flitted across the kitchen, alternating between fixing the sauce, sprinkling spices, and scrambling the hamburger meat in the pan.
Normally she would have been humming with a smile on her face, while listening to Gotham's news as it played on the TV in the living room. But now she could only glance at the velvet black box sitting on the wooden kitchen table in nostalgia. Once upon a time her and her husband would have exchanged gifts at the door and fixed dinner together. Now Ian was upstairs in his office furiously examining files that were deemed too important to even spare a glance at his wife.
Helena chuckled humorlessly and shook her head. He probably didn't even get her a present.
She turned the stove off and began to layer the lasagna ingredients in a clear pan. It was a meticulous process. Too much of one layer threw the entire taste of the dish off. But all Helena could focus on was the sound of the sound of her husband's typing.
The woman was unprepared for the instant fury that demanded to be felt, instead of pushed aside to keep her tenuous marriage intact. She slammed her hands down on the counter and swiped the small box off the table.
Helena stomped up the stairs and threw open the door to Ian's office. Her husband jumped, causing a multitude of papers to fly in opposite directions. Without caring about the delicate piece of jewelry inside, she slammed the box down on the desk.
Ian furrowed his eyebrows and stood up. He walked over and attempted to comfort his wife only to be roughly pushed away.
"How dare you!" Helena yelled, "Just come up here and-and work without even saying anything!"
"I had to write down some notes from today. I think I'm finally getting through to some of the patients. Just today Mr. Jones-"
His wife shoved him. "I don't care about your patients Ian! Today is supposed to be about us! It's our anniversary!"
At that the blood drained out of Ian's face and soon the confusion was replaced with guilt. "Helena I'm-"
Helena held up her hand. "Don't...just don't. I've been patient. I know that you want to help those...people"-she spat the word out in disgust-"but I'm your wife. I even moved here when my business and clients were in Illinois! But I'm not even worth a 'hello how was your day honey' Those maniacs get more attention that I ever have since moving here!"
"What can I do to make it up to you?" asked Ian.
"Quit so we can move back to Illinois"-Helena sneered at him-"But you won't do that."
Ian slumped forward and bit his lip. After a moment of tension ridden silence he placed his hands on Helena's shoulder and pulled her close. After taking a deep breath he spoke.
"I promise you that from now on my afternoons will be dedicated to you."
His wife sighed but didn't attempt to break out of her husband's embrace. "I guess that's a start. Now come down stairs and help me finish the lasagna."
So they worked together to finish the dish and place it in the oven, then set the table. Once the oven buzzer sounded the couple placed large square pieces of lasagna on their dinner plates and sat down across from each other. They didn't talk and instead took comfort in each others presence. The only sound was the clinking of metal forks against plates and the monotone voice of the Gotham news reporter.
The monotony was broken when the words 'breaking news' flashed across the TV screen. Ian rushed to reach the remote and turn up the television, and what he saw froze the blood in his veins.
Harley Quinn was robbing a bank and holding its costumers and workers as hostages. The GCPD was parked outside with officers trying to negotiate with the mad woman, to no avail.
Ian swallowed and his fingers twitched. "Helena..."
Helena's face scrunched up in confusion before it was quickly replaced by an aghast expression. "No."
"I need to do this." Ian rushed over to get his beige colored coat that was hanging by the door.
Helena watched him with pursed lips. "Don't expect to be sleeping in our bed tonight. Or any night for the rest of this week."
"Noted. Are you coming?" Ian pulled on his coat and reached into his pocket for the car keys.
His wife sighed and held her forehead in her hands. "Of course," she said exasperated, "I have to make sure you don't get yourself killed."
YOU ARE READING
No Good Man In Gotham
Fanfiction"That's how it starts, sir. The fever, the rage, the feeling of powerlessness that turns good men... cruel." Ian Isley has dedicated his entire life to helping the criminally insane after losing his father to madness. Against his wife's wishes he mo...
