The Dawn of Tomorrow - A Henry Cavill Fanfic

Prologue

Her grandmother had one of her bad days.

Well, if you could call it a bad day when nearly every day seemed to be a bad day these days.

Delilah had never hated a thing in her life as much as she hated her grandmother's Alzheimers. Had never loathed something with that bone-deep hatred than she did that illness.

It took away everything that made her grandmother, her Bubbe, the woman that had raised her, herself. Everything.

Sometimes it felt like there was nothing left anymore, only an empty shell of a person that didn't remember her own granddaughter anymore. That woman laying in that bed, that didn't recognise Delilah...she was so far away from the loving Bubbe that had taught Delilah everything she knew. Bubbe taught her how to read and how to write...she had taught her how to sew, knit and crochet, how to grow her own vegetable garden in that tiny little garden their home in Stamford Hill. (Delilah was still proud of her first harvest of potatoes nearly 20 years after that fact.)

All the things a girl had to know to be marriageable in the Old Country as Bubbe had insisted.

On a good day...on a good day, her Bubbe remembered her. Then Delilah was called shayna, the childhood nickname that only her grandmother ever used. Then she told Delilah that she loved her and asked her how she was doing and how university was...even when Delilah hadn't been to university in 7 years.

But today hadn't been a good day. And whenever it was a bad day like that, Delilah wondered how long this was going to go on. How long was she going to visit her Bubbe in the Nursing home and leave, quietly wondering if her death would be the better option?

And alone the thought of that made Delilah feel like she was the most terrible person to have ever walked the face of the earth.

She bit back that tears that wanted to run over her face at the thought of her grandmother dying, of Bubbe leaving her alone, even when Delilah knew...she knew that her Bubbe had been slipping through her finger for the better part of a decade at this point.

She knew.

Delilah just didn't want to think about it anymore. Because she didn't know how she was supposed to go on with her life when she was going to lose the last bit of family that she had.

She didn't have anybody but Bubbe. Not really. Her father had died when she had just been a year old, a ghost in her life that Delilah only knew a face of because of the pictures her Bubbe had used to show her. A mother that was absent and that had loaded her off to her paternal grandmother as soon as she could...an uncle in Israel that she hadn't talked to in years...an aunt in Scotland that if she showed up for something then it was a single visit on Hannukah...

She had Andrew though, right? She had a boyfriend. That should count for something. Shouldn't it?

Granted, he wasn't very happy with her at the moment.

She thought about picking up her personal phone for a moment but she knew that if she wasn't going to hurry, she wasn't gonna make her flight. So she wiped away one of the tears that had stolen its way over her cheek and mentally banned all the thoughts of her grandmother and Andrew from her mind.

Business first. She had a job to do.

So off she went to Heathrow, taking the train, laden down with luggage that wasn't her own, because Andrew needed the car that day and so she was stuck with the train.