Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing. It all (enviably) belongs to NBC, Aaron Sorkin, and company.

Also, this was published in a rush to get it out for Christmas, so it's not beta'd. All mistakes are the author's alone.

Prologue

I'm Jewish. Didn't know if you knew that. But yeah, I've even got that whole 'ancestors were mostly all wiped out in the Holocaust' thing, unfortunately. As my lovely mother loves to remind me, I'm currently the last of the Lyman lineage. That would be her guilt trippy way of bringing up the fact that I have yet to reproduce and provide her the fodder for bragging at her weekly bridge game in Boca. You'd think 'my son is the third most powerful man in the country' would be enough. Nope. No grandkids equals failure among her Golden Girl cohorts.

Back to my point. I'm Jewish. So that means, around this time every year, I get to sit back and watch as the majority of the people around me nearly kill themselves in preparation for that oh so popular celebration of the birth of another Jew. They decorate, carol, cook, shop, and wrap til they've forgotten that they're supposed to be celebrating something, not trying to outdo each other or prove their love with shiny things.

And stop right now; I know what you're thinking. I'm being a cynic. I, Joshua Lyman, Deputy Chief of Staff of the White House, can tell you with the utmost certainty that I couldn't do my job if I were a cynic. I concede whole heartedly to the fact that many do hold the spirit of the holiday over the commercialization of it... the President for example. Yes, he is all about the gift giving, but he doesn't do it to outdo or to prove anything. He does it because he finds true joy over getting someone a gift that he knows will make the receiver smile and giving joy to others is paramount to Jed Bartlet's. Then there's Sam, who gives horrible gifts (last year he got me a reindeer Pez dispenser) but lights up with wonder and joy like a little kid with all the decorations and singing. He holds the spirit of the holiday by constantly being in the spirit of the holiday. C.J., much like me, despises the commercialization of Christmas. She does the obligatory gift exchanging, but her true Christmas is her annual Christmas get together when the gang all goes over to her place for some heavily spiked eggnog, Secret Santa exchange, and viewing of her two favorite Christmas movies, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and A Christmas Carol (the old one with Alistair Sims). Having us all together to relax and enjoy each other's company is her way to keep the spirit. And it gives her a renewed excuse to call me a "nitwit" and Toby "Mr. Scrooge" for a few hours. Toby, my Jew partner-in-crime in the West Wing, plays up his modern day Grinch persona, but in reality you can see he enjoys the little Moments when the hustle and bustle of the West Wing on a holiday high calms down and people take a second to actually be warm with each other.

Then there's my lovely assistant, Donna Moss, who is far from naïve about the evils of commercialization surrounding Christmas, but chooses to ignore all that and just enjoy the holiday season. Like the President, she truly enjoys gift giving and gets as much out of it as she gives. Like Sam, instead of seeing a skyrocketing electric bill, she sees wonderment in the twinkling lights as through the eyes of a child. Like C.J., she finds enormous joy in simply spending down time with those of us lucky enough to have her consider us family. And like me, she admonishes people breaking their necks to use the season as a proving ground for status, wealth, and superiority. She is literally the best versions of us all, combined in our very own Christmas angel.

We Jews do have this stretched out holiday this time of year known as Hanukkah, but its far more subdued than anything Old Saint Nick is selling. Growing up in my family, for example, we would light the menorah each of the 8 night and have traditional meals. My sister and I would spin the Dreidel while Mom was cooking and we'd get a small gift each night. Nothing extravagant. We were lucky enough to not want for much in life, so the gifts were usually items we could learn from or would need anyway like books or socks. As a kid, I remember being sort of envious of the kids who'd come back to school from winter break with tales of their shiny new trains or sleds while all I had to show was a copy of James and the Giant Peach and a new scarf. But as I grew up, I came to appreciate the ceremony of Hanukkah over the materialism of Christmas. It made me proud of my heritage.

Our traditions became… well… less traditional after Joanie died. Our family lost more than a daughter and sister that night. We all lost a big part of ourselves too. I miss Joanie for so many reasons and my memories with her when we were celebrating the Festival of Lights with our family are a large part of that. They represent a time when we were all just… happy.

For some reason, the way Donna holds Christmas reminds me of how my family used to hold Hanukkah. When I've allowed myself to get wrapped up in her enthusiasm these last few Decembers, I've felt, even for a few Moments at a time, a giant weight lifted off of me. Sometimes I'll catch her standing in the lobby, just staring up at the big, ornately decorated evergreen, people bustling to and fro around her. And against my restless nature, I'll just take a Moment to stand and watch the way the twinkling lights reflect in her blue irises and bounce off her golden hair creating a glowing halo effect. A warm smile will slowly creep on to her face and I'll get this flutter in my stomach, like a hummingbird has decided to take up residence in my gut and flicker its wings. Before I know it, I've tuned out the hustle and bustle surrounding me and I'm smiling too, just from watching her stare at a goddamn tree. Other times I'll come back from a meeting with some jerk Republican who won't budge, pissed off and amped up, only to find an apple cut up, slices arranged in a spiral with peanut butter in the middle, sitting on a plate on my desk. Usually this kind of simple gift will be accompanied by a little note in Donna's signature, barely legible scribe saying, "Relax and breath" or something along those lines. My tension of the day will ease a bit and on these occasions, I'll actually make the effort to walk out to Donna's desk to ask her to join me in my office rather than bellow her name for all the bullpen to hear. She'll follow me in and sit across from me, sharing the snack she's prepared. The familiarity of sharing my food with Donna helps to rid the remaining tension in my body. The small talk and banter soothes my soul. And the bliss on her face that she seems to get from seeing me back at ease makes that little hummingbird act up again. Her joy in giving me joy gives me more joy. It's a circle of joy… I don't know how else to describe it. These little Moments with her bring me back to the boy sitting on the living room floor, spinning a Dreidel with his sister while the smells of cooking food enveloped us, not a care in the world. I'm not saying I think of Donna as a sister. No, no, no. But the feeling that all is right in this crazy, mixed up world transcends time and place and I'm overwhelmed with a feeling of contentment that I never want to end.

Tonight is the Friday before Christmas, the traditional night for C.J.'s yuletide gathering. I've spent the last few weeks coming to a realization and tonight I plan on acting on the recognition of what my subconscious has been screaming at me for a long while now. I just need the help of a few of Santa's elves to make it happen.