She needed someone to be there for her. Jimmy knew it the second he saw her storm out. Tess hadn't wanted this, she hadn't wanted so many eyes on her; and that's exactly why he was here. Tess needed him.

As his idiot cousins (plus that awkward stutterer that always seemed to be in tow behind Tess) waited in the dark of the treehouse, Jimmy knelt and stooped through the door onto the balcony.

The sunlight blinded him, as he stepped out, arching his back as at last he could stretch to his full, meager height. He blinked for a moment, easing the sun from his eyes, and let the balcony slowly fade into focus. Once it did, his heart raced, the balcony before him completely empty.

"Tess?" he asked.

No response came save for a light rustling of the leaves .

"Tess?" he tried again.

"Go away." Her voice sounded off to the left, and Jimmy followed it around the bend of the balcony. She hid at the far corner, back against the wall and knees hugged tight to her chest.

"Tess?" he asked one last time, his voice soft as he tried to lace it with concern. Despite his genuine worry for her, he doubted that he had succeeded. The last time his voice had assumed such a tenor had been with his little brother. In fact, that was pretty much the only time he expressed anything of the sort - always with Ricky. He'd been his big bro, and even if Ricky was a fart nugget, it had still been Jimmy's job to watch out for him. No, now Jimmy could feel the bitterness boiling over even as he tried to reach out to Tess; not so much at her, but at his loss, his failure, and just the general injustice of it all.

She sniffed, cuffing her nose. "What?"

"Sorry to put you on the spot, cuz." He sat down beside her as he spoke, curling up his own knees to match hers. "I know I'm the last person you wanted to see."

Tess didn't seem to catch the olive branch being offered. Instead she fell right past it.

"Great," she said. "So, why'd you come?"

Jimmy couldn't help it. Despite all of his own pent-up emotions, all the pain with which he was contending, he laughed. There was something so painfully funny with the way Tess was knotting up her voice; with the stern lock of her expression and the fierceness of her reply. She sat there, sniffling into her knees, yet glared out at him as if a viking warrior ready to have at him - and he was half convinced she would take him down or die trying.

"It's not funny," she said. "Don't laugh at me."

"I'm sorry. Really, I'm sorry. I promise."

Tess turned away, her arms crossed and locked, seeming to both accept and deny the apology at the same time.

"Look, really, I am," he continued as softly as he could. "I didn't want to put you on the spot, but by the time Charlie told me about this, I realized how quickly this would spread through the usual channels. You know that idiot. He can't keep anything to himself."

"So you just wanted to be part of the party."

"No." Tess glared at him as he said it. "Yes, but still no" he corrected. "I wanted to be here, but not for me; for you. I already knew Dylan would be here, and let's face it, he's a dick. I didn't want you to face him alone, let alone whatever other army Charlie brought in tow."

"You shouldn't say dick."

"Well, then Dylan should stop being one."

Tess chuckled a little, the first hint of smile creeping up her face. "You know," she said, "he's why I added the sign."

"The No Jerks sign?"

"Yeah." She laughed again, this time wholeheartedly. "It doesn't seem to work."

"No. Guess not. Then again, Dylan's not much of a reader. Maybe you should have drawn it out. A picture of his face with one of those circles with the lines through it, you know."

"Fine," Tess said.

"Fine?"

"Yeah, fine. You can stay."

At that Jimmy hugged her tight. "Thanks."

From there, the tension eased, at least for a time, and as Jimmy dangled his feet over the balcony, kicking them into the air, he and his little cousin talked, truly talked in a manner that they hadn't assumed in a long time, since even before Ricky disappeared. In fact, for a moment, Jimmy even forgot about Ricky.

He apologized about his mom slapping Tess, and she assured him that she didn't blame him, and that it was okay. It seemed as if she might blame herself, but Jimmy didn't get a chance to pick at that thread. Instead Tess insisted on knowing how they were all going to explain their absences to their parents. From there, Jimmy delved into a litany of excuses, most of which dealt with soccer practice, though he had little to add about Tina's alleged library study session. 

"If any of us breaks, it will be her," he said. "She always rats."

Tess nodded as if absorbing a priceless gem of wisdom, and Jimmy plowed on, only it would be more appropriate to say that he swerved away, pivoting to a completely new topic. He had yet to master the art of the segue.

"So, did you see, Harris?"

The moment that he asked, he felt the guilt well up. Tess sat on a precipice, a horde of cousins waiting just feet away on the other side of a thin plywood wall - waiting to descend upon her. Already, the weight of Ricky's loss (and there he was again, back at the forefront) was drowning her, and yet he had to bring it back up.

He had to bring it back up. He had no choice. The pain of ignorance bore too great a toll upon him.

Tess cast her eyes up, and then away, still silent.

"Harris Hallahan," he continued. "Did you see him, Tess? Did he take Ricky?"

Eons passed as Jimmy licked at his lips, waiting for Tess to answer, yet at last her soft voice stole in and time restored itself once more to its normal flow.

"No," she said.

"No? No, he didn't take Ricky?"

"No. Not that." Tess huddled closer into her knees as if they could protect her from Jimmy's questions, but still she answered. "No, as in, no, I didn't see him take Ricky. He could have, maybe. I don't know."

"But you know something about his disappearance?" Jimmy leaned forward. He'd come to help Tess, he had; at least, he'd convinced himself that's why he had come, but deep down he knew that this was the real reason. He needed to know for himself whatever it was that she knew. He needed answers. So he pushed.

"You know something that you didn't tell the police."

"Not, exactly."

"Tess, please..." Jimmy's voice cracked and he paused gathering himself for another try.

"I told them everything, they... they just didn't believe me," she said. "They didn't, and mom didn't, and Oma Flora didn't, and no one did. No one does."

There it was - she did know something more. He had to know.

"Try me," he said, and then they spoke for real.