Knitting Therapy

Swift Response (CJ, Ron, G)

CJ groped her way along the hall in the dark. "Mr. President? Are you there?"

A hand grasped her shoulder and dragged her forward into a beam of light, and she flinched. "It's Ron Butterfield, Ms. Cregg. The President is inside, in no immediate danger. It appears the entire area is without power. You'll have to stay..."

She nodded slowly, before pausing. "Wait. Toby and Will were supposed to be here, Toby's taking the subway and I think Will rented a car..."

Ron nodded. "Don't worry, Ms. Cregg, we'll find them. They'll get here." He began mumbling to his sleeve.



Bumbling Fools (Josh/Donna, G)

"Alright, just keep ahold of my sleeve -"

"Ow, Donna, you led me into a wall!"

"Watch where you're going, Josh, that was my foot!"

"Donna, there's no electricity, I can't."

"Stop it. Walk slowly, Josh. If you hit something, then, it won't hurt as much."

"Right. Just walk slowly. Well, you're pulling me... OW. Jesus, Donna, could you warn me?"

"If you don't stop swinging my hand back and forth I'll tell Sam about that time you were drunk on my couch -"

Ginger leaned over and muttered to Cathy, "And they expect us to believe nothing's going on?"



Strain (Toby, G)

He tried to avoid the glaring Bartlet-bashers down the car by focusing on the scared little girl who was going to visit her Mom all alone. Good parenting practice, he was sure Andi would say. Down the way, a group of businessmen and women were negotiating a way to get everyone off the train. Phones were starting to run out of battery power for light, and the emergency lighting hadn't come on.

Toby was seriously considering suing the city of New York.

"Alright, we're prying the door open," a suited man proclaimed.

Now, if only this wasn't a terrorist attack...



Down for the Count (Will, PG)

"Sir, hold still. An ambulance is on its way."

There was a faint outline of someone leaning over him. He tried to speak, but breathing in caused a crushing pain in his ribs.

"Please, you were in a car accident. The power's gone out for the whole block. Maybe more. The streetlights are out. We think you have a broken rib or two."

Will was pretty sure he had broken every bone in his body, but pain prevented that response.

The blur leaned down. "Whisper your name, who to contact."

"Will Bailey. Call... White House." He could hear the sirens.