Secret Santa fic for bittersweet325
Title: A Little Light
Author: melanie_anne
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Not my characters.
Note 1: Written for bittersweet325 for the Profiler Secret Santa.
Note 2: I'm not Jewish, and have next to no knowledge about Hannukah, so I apologize in advance if I got anything wrong.
. . .
The house is completely dark, but for one small candle on the windowsill. The flame flickers unsteadily for a moment, then begins to burn stronger, brighter.
"Ma-oz Tzur Yeshu-ati, lecha na-eh leshabei-ah. Tikon beit tefilati vesham todah nezabei-ah. Le-et tachin matbe-ach mitzar hamnabei-ah. Az egmor beshir mizmor chanukat hamizbei-ah."
* * *
"You're late," Grace announces as she opens the door. Then she smiles. "Come on in."
George smiles in return and follows her into the house. The other members of the team are already there, as well as a few people George doesn't recognize. John is on the couch talking to a pretty blonde. Angel is over at the Christmas tree, admiring the decorations with Chloe. Bailey and Sam are in the middle of what seems to be a serious conversation. Complementing the hum of conversation is the sound of Christmas carols.
George is used to feeling out of place.
Everyone gathers in the living room after dinner. Grace's husband dons a Santa hat and takes the seat nearest to the tree. Grace had run the secret santa this year; George hopes Bailey will like the Scotch he bought.
He thinks of his mother, suddenly, and wonders what she's doing tonight. He wonders if she is with friends, or if she lit the candles on her own.
* * *
"Why don't we have a Christmas tree?" he asks. It's the most important question for the six-year-old George.
Ima smiles and brushes her hand over his head, smoothing his hair. "Because we're Jewish."
"So?"
"Look, here, at the menorah." And she tells him about rededicating the Temple, and oil that miraculously kept the menorah burning for eight days.
George listens, spellbound. He doesn't even notice his chocolate gelt is melting in his hands.
* * *
"Uncle George?" Chloe climbs onto the couch next to him. "Mommy says you don't celebrate Christmas."
"That's right."
"So how come you're here?"
He looks around the room, looks at the friends who've become almost like family. He thinks of the menorah standing on his windowsill, thinks of a little boy asking his mother questions about a holiday he didn't understand. He thinks about how he almost didn't come tonight, thinks about his empty apartment.
"Because - that's what family does."
"Oh. Okay." Chloe leans against the back of the chair and rests her head on his shoulder.
* * *
On the way home, he stops at a store and buys chocolate gelt. He'll ask Sam to give them to Chloe in the morning.
* * *
"Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha-olam, asher kid'shanu b'mitzvotav v'tzivanu l'hadlik neir (shel) chanukah."
Nine candles burn in total.
George looks around at his friends, and smiles.
Author: melanie_anne
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Not my characters.
Note 1: Written for bittersweet325 for the Profiler Secret Santa.
Note 2: I'm not Jewish, and have next to no knowledge about Hannukah, so I apologize in advance if I got anything wrong.
. . .
The house is completely dark, but for one small candle on the windowsill. The flame flickers unsteadily for a moment, then begins to burn stronger, brighter.
"Ma-oz Tzur Yeshu-ati, lecha na-eh leshabei-ah. Tikon beit tefilati vesham todah nezabei-ah. Le-et tachin matbe-ach mitzar hamnabei-ah. Az egmor beshir mizmor chanukat hamizbei-ah."
* * *
"You're late," Grace announces as she opens the door. Then she smiles. "Come on in."
George smiles in return and follows her into the house. The other members of the team are already there, as well as a few people George doesn't recognize. John is on the couch talking to a pretty blonde. Angel is over at the Christmas tree, admiring the decorations with Chloe. Bailey and Sam are in the middle of what seems to be a serious conversation. Complementing the hum of conversation is the sound of Christmas carols.
George is used to feeling out of place.
Everyone gathers in the living room after dinner. Grace's husband dons a Santa hat and takes the seat nearest to the tree. Grace had run the secret santa this year; George hopes Bailey will like the Scotch he bought.
He thinks of his mother, suddenly, and wonders what she's doing tonight. He wonders if she is with friends, or if she lit the candles on her own.
* * *
"Why don't we have a Christmas tree?" he asks. It's the most important question for the six-year-old George.
Ima smiles and brushes her hand over his head, smoothing his hair. "Because we're Jewish."
"So?"
"Look, here, at the menorah." And she tells him about rededicating the Temple, and oil that miraculously kept the menorah burning for eight days.
George listens, spellbound. He doesn't even notice his chocolate gelt is melting in his hands.
* * *
"Uncle George?" Chloe climbs onto the couch next to him. "Mommy says you don't celebrate Christmas."
"That's right."
"So how come you're here?"
He looks around the room, looks at the friends who've become almost like family. He thinks of the menorah standing on his windowsill, thinks of a little boy asking his mother questions about a holiday he didn't understand. He thinks about how he almost didn't come tonight, thinks about his empty apartment.
"Because - that's what family does."
"Oh. Okay." Chloe leans against the back of the chair and rests her head on his shoulder.
* * *
On the way home, he stops at a store and buys chocolate gelt. He'll ask Sam to give them to Chloe in the morning.
* * *
"Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha-olam, asher kid'shanu b'mitzvotav v'tzivanu l'hadlik neir (shel) chanukah."
Nine candles burn in total.
George looks around at his friends, and smiles.