A/N: These are five drabbles, the first four inspired by the four sides of a dreidel and the corresponding meanings, the fifth by the meaning of the sides as a whole. All of them are set during Chanukah, although they're set in different years and not in chronological order. If you're not familiar with dreidels or their meaning, I encourage you to google it so that you can get some context. I'm pretty sure if you just type in "dreidel rules," you'll get some good links. Anywho - Happy Chanukah to those who celebrate, including Jews, fair-weather Jews, atheist Jews, the Jew-curious, and nostalgic Christians (hey, Jesus celebrated it, too, you know). For everyone else, let's just call this Huddy-kah, shall we?

Nun (nothing)

Her eyes drift to the clock – half past seven. Dusk has turned to darkness. Somewhere, her mother is frying latkes while Julie sets the table and the children play dreidel for chocolate coins. The air is warm with laughter and the smell of crisp potato pancakes. A silver menorah sits in the window, wax dripping down as the candles flicker and fade.

Alone in her office, miles away, Cuddy pulls her sweater around her and rubs her eyes, aching from the glare of the computer screen. She wonders, not for the first time, if she's been chasing the right dream.

Gimmel (everything)

She holds the Shamash in one hand and braces her daughter against herself with the other. The prayers come quietly from her throat as she passes the flame from candle to candle. She can see the light reflected in Rachel's eyes, wide with wonder.

"Thanks for doing this," she murmurs.

"I'm only here 'cause you promised we'd play 'strip dreidel,'" he counters, features hard in the candlelight.

"Still." She sets Rachel down and turns back to him, reaching up to stroke his stubble. A smile twitches on his lips and he leans down to meet her mouth in a kiss.

Hey (half)

"I'm glad you came." Her mother wraps her arms around Cuddy and holds her a few moments. "With Julie away, I was worried I'd have to spend it alone." The last word resonates with her. Alone. The house seems emptier, quieter, without her father's voice or his old '45s revolving on the player.

She used to love watching her parents dance to them, her mother reluctant and her father jubilant.

"I was going to cook, but…" Her mother trails off wistfully.

"We can call for a pizza," Cuddy offers.

Her mother nods. "I'm glad you came," she repeats.

"Me, too."

Shin (put in)

She's rushing to get home to light the candles by sundown. For whatever reason, it's important to her this year. Maybe it's that thing about people becoming more religious when they have children, or maybe it's that she believes, subconsciously, that if she follows the rules, things might turn out okay.

It's nearly five, and she's trying to get through her paperwork, when she feels the first cramp. By six, she's bleeding. She stays in her bathroom through the night, crying and not caring that she's ruined her skirt.

She doesn't celebrate Chanukah that year. She doesn't see a reason.

Nes Gadol Haya Sham (a great miracle occurred there)

She stares at it in disbelief for almost an hour, too overwhelmed to move or even register what she sees. She's still standing there, stupefied, when she hears the banging at the door.

She moves almost mechanically through the house, like she's just drifting along, not even aware of what she's doing when she swings open the door to see him tapping his cane on the front step impatiently.

"I'm pregnant," the words tumble forth. Her mind spins its wheels and gets nowhere.

He looks at her a few moments and then steps past her, inside. "Took you long enough."