December 10th 1998
Lois opened her eyes to find her husband’s side of the bed empty, but the faint smell of coffee told her he wasn’t out—just downstairs preparing breakfast.
Snow brushed against the windows when Lois came down the stairs that morning. Clark had already set the table and was now feeding Martha some of the milk Lois had pumped yesterday. The TV was on, providing background noise. The world had been noisy. In the last 24 hours, international protests had risen for a journalist imprisoned in Kasnia. Calls for UN intervention had gone unanswered.
Lois felt the weight of it before she even reached the bottom step.
Clark looked up, offering a small smile. “Good morning.”
She crossed the room and kissed Martha’s soft hair. “Rough night?”
Clark hesitated. “A lot is happening out there. People fighting for basic rights. People getting hurt for asking for them. Superman can’t do anything because this isn’t a natural disaster. If I intervene, Kasnia will take it as a hostile act.”
Lois touched his arm. “Superman might not be able to do anything, but a story from us in the Daily Planet can help spur some action.” She thought for a moment, then got the bag from the advent calendar. “Let’s open today’s bag before the world pulls you in again.”
He nodded.
She handed it to him and he opened it to find a tiny lantern figurine. Beneath it lay the folded page Lois had written.
She opened it:
His values became the light that guided him. Not ambition or obligation. Just the knowledge that strength only makes sense when it protects. This light led him to you, long before he knew you would exist.
Clark stared at the paper.
Lois reached up, brushing her thumb across his cheek. “Your light doesn’t come from your powers,” she said quietly. “It comes from your choices.”
He swallowed. “Some days I wonder if it’s enough.”
“It is,” Lois answered. “People don’t always get justice, not right away. But they get hope because you show up. Because you stand with them.”
Clark looked down at Martha, whose big eyes seemed to watch him intently.
“That,” Lois added softly, “is your proof. She’ll grow up believing in fairness because she sees it in you.”
“Both of us,” Clark corrected.
Lois gave a small nod. “Both of us.”
He placed the lantern on the mantel, where it caught the early morning light like a real flame.
“You’re right,” he said, and pulled her closer.
Last edited by Kathryn84; 12/10/25 05:43 PM. Reason: Santa’s elves helped me with this edit.
