Donna looked out the window of their office in the Convention hall, and gazed at the main floor where the convention would be getting underway in just hours. It was hard to believe they were finally here. In just four days, one way or another, the Democratic nomination would be decided.
"Amazing, isn't it?" Will commented as he came up beside her. "I'll be so glad when this is over, and Democrats can stop bickering amongst ourselves and work on getting Bob Russell elected President."
"Aren't you getting a little ahead of yourself?"
"The Vice President is about 99% sure Baker is on board for VP. That's game over. Russell's the nominee."
"That overconfidence thing – I'm not sure it's served us all that well so far in this campaign."
"Good point," Will nodded. "We can't be overconfident. So just for some insurance – here's some literature that the Colorado delegation is going to be circulating on the floor – it's meant to help keep our delegates in line, maybe even move some Santos ones into our corner."
He handed her a booklet, and she began thumbing through it.
"Now just so you know, I hesitated to even show you this…" he hedged, obviously trying to pre-empt something she was about to read. "You should be honored, really, that I trust you enough to…"
"Will!" she gasped. "This mentions the videotape rumor."
"It says it's a rumor. It acknowledges we don't know whether it's true or not."
"We do know!"
"We know Josh denied it, that's all. I believe Josh thinks it isn't true, but what if Santos lied to him?"
"Yeah, because I'm sure Santos is just itching to become the nominee only to have his political career destroyed in the general election. How would that benefit him, exactly?"
"The delegates have a right to know what's out there."
"What about the President's ultimatum?" she demanded. President Bartlet had recently threatened to step in if either campaign became too negative. "If he finds out about this…"
"Technically, it's not associated with our campaign. It's going to be circulated by members of the Colorado delegation, not us. We have no control over what they do."
She looked at him. "But they showed it to you first. They wanted to get your approval, right?"
He was quiet for a minute.
"Will?"
"I asked them to put it out there, Donna."
"God, Will…"
"Don't worry, the guy I talked to is completely loyal. He's not going to leak our conversation."
"You think that's my primary concern?"
"Hey, you think this is going to be the only low-blow piece of literature circulating on the floor once the convention gets underway? God only knows what they're going to say about Russell. We can't play Mr. Nice Guy and expect to win."
"It's racist, Will." Donna said quietly. "The rumor is racist, and you know it."
The edges of Will's mouth twitched slightly, as if he felt a twinge of conscience.
"It's not..." he protested weakly. Then his voice became defensive. "Look, I'm a campaign manager. My job is to get Bob Russell the nomination and the Presidency, not be the PC police. And if there's any chance that the videotape really is out there, the delegates need to know about it."
"Whatever gets you through the night," she snapped.
"Donna-"
"This isn't you, Will," she shook her head sadly. "You're not a bad person. I just hope you're going to be able to live with yourself when this campaign is over."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"He wants to sleep on it," the Vice President reported to Will and Donna, frustration evident in his voice. He had just held a closed-door meeting with Eric Baker, one in which they'd hoped to wrap up the Vice Presidential deal – but clearly things had not gone as planned.
"Sleep on it? We'll be on the third or fourth ballot by then." Will stared at the Vice President in disbelief.
"Yeah, I think he's aiming to be on it. The son of a bitch doesn't want to be VP. He's going to try and get nominated from the floor." The Vice President concluded angrily.
"Are you kidding?" Donna demanded. "Why? If he wanted to be President, why didn't he run in the primary?"
"Oh, why run in the primary and do all that work of campaigning when you can just wait for the Democrats to deadlock, swoop in at the convention, and walk away with the nomination?" Will seethed.
"You think he's going to walk away with the nomination?" Donna's face paled slightly.
"Not if I can help it. Come on, we need to figure out what this does to the map."
"Santos will lose Pennsylvania for sure," Donna tried to sound optimistic.
"Yeah, but it also puts a lot of our northeastern states at risk." Will commented. Then he threw a bag of throat lozenges on the table. "We may need these when we hit the phones."
Donna nodded. It was going to be a long day.
As the Vice President had predicted, within an hour, "Draft Baker" signs were being distributed on the convention floor. By the next day, on the second round of ballots, it was nearly a three-way tie between Baker, Santos, and Russell.
"It's all happening so fast," Donna observed.
"That's what a brokered convention is all about," Will sighed. "Four days to go from an impasse to party unity."
"I just don't understand how Baker can just jump into this thing yesterday and all of a sudden…I mean, don't people have to question how much he even really wants to be President, anyway? Since he wasn't willing to compete in the primaries like the rest of us? Why are the delegates so willing to hand this thing to him?"
As Will was about to answer, a fax came in over the fax machine. Donna picked it up and read it, then swallowed hard.
"What is it?" Will asked.
"Nothing," Donna looked away from him. "You don't need to worry about it."
"Who's it for?"
"No one." She started to walk away, still holding the fax.
Will's eyes narrowed and he followed Donna, grabbing the piece of paper from her.
He read them, and his eyes widened. "Donna, these are medical records showing Eric Baker's wife has been hospitalized twice for clinical depression."
"Yeah?"
"So you thought you'd try and hide this from me?" He immediately started walking toward the elevators leading to the Vice President's hotel suite. Donna followed him.
"Will, please, we can't use this. It's his wife, not him. So what if she's struggled with depression?"
"So what? It could be enough to take him out of contention for the nomination, that's what." He pushed the button on the elevator and waited for the door to open.
"Please don't do this."
He turned to her. "Donna, I know you think this is dirty politics, and maybe it is. But the only thing that would piss me off more than Santos getting the nomination is Baker getting the nomination -- someone who couldn't be bothered to campaign in the primaries, who won no states, who nobody voted for. Does that sound very democratic to you? Bob Russell and Matt Santos have had their lives scrutinized for months. What about Baker? People only started paying attention to him yesterday. Who knows what else he's hiding? So I'm sorry, but if he didn't want his family's privacy invaded, he shouldn't have pulled this stunt."
Donna tried in vain to talk him out of it as he walked up to the door to the Vice President's suite.
"Don't do this. The Vice President will do it if you tell him to. Please."
He ignored her pleas and walked into the Vice President's suite.