Tayes + "I need you, though"
“Congratulations,” Wallace saysdryly, “you have invented a new kind of stupid.”The conference room is so quiet thatyou could hear a pin drop and Tess shifts in her chair, uncomfortable with thesilence and the tightness in her chest. Everyone else is staring down at thetable but Tess stares at Hayes. She’s looking at Wallace, jaw tight, shoulderssquared. Combative to the end.
Wallace shakes his head. “I hopethis isn’t the end, Hayes, but I don’t know where the CIU is going to go fromhere.”
And with that he leaves and Tesshates him in that moment for having the power to leave them like that, hangingin the balance. The silence continues even after he’s gone. Slowly, the rest ofthe team files out; Sam, first, shoving files into his briefcase and leavingthe conference room. Maxine goes and then even Frankie leaves until it’s justTess and Hayes and the overwhelming silence.
Tess looks at the crime board, atthe artifacts of the case that had become so personal that Hayes crossed theline to find the truth. And for what? It doesn’t matter anymore.
Hayes looks at her and Tess issurprised when their eyes meet; she hadn’t realized that Hayes even knew shewas still there. “Aren’t you going too?” She asks. “Don’t you want to startcleaning out your desk?”
Tess shakes her head. “You don’tknow…Wallace was probably exaggerating. You know he likes to blow hot air andhear himself talk.”
Hayes smiles, though there’s littlemirth behind it. “What he likes is to keep me on my toes,” she mutters. “Toremind me who’s really in charge here.”
Tess bites her lip to keep fromfiring off a few more of her opinions on Wallace. “You’re better than that,”she says softly instead. “Better than him.”
Hayes is silent. She walks over tothe board, pulling a picture of the victim off, studying it for a moment beforeletting it drop into the trash. “How does this always seem to happen?”
Tess thinks that she’s talking aboutthese cases, how they become personal, how each one seems to up the stakesamong the team, to become the focal point until nothing else matters for thenext five days.
But Hayes says, “How are you alwaysthe last one here, with me?”
“I…” Tess isn’t sure how to answer,isn’t sure what Hayes wants her tosay. Is she being lauded or chastised? With Hayes it’s always hard to tell.
“My own private cheerleader.” Hayessmirks and Tess feels the first pricks of embarrassment making her skin hot andher heart beat faster. “Wallace thinks he has all the power. He thinks he haswhat I need. But I don’t need this, I don’t need the CIU, I don’t need this job…”
Hayes shakes her head and Tess sitsthere, silent, unsure of how to respond.
“But,” Hayes continues and she’slooking at Tess again, her smile softer. “I need you, though.”
“Me?” Tess hates how quiet her voiceis, how she manages to sound so off kilter and uncertain.
“My own private cheerleader,” Hayessays again, quietly. She doesn’t look at Tess, closing her eyes. “The onlyperson who doesn’t make me feel like I’m shit even though I always fuckeverything up.”
“No, you don’t,” Tess assures herquickly and there’s a ferocity in her voice that seems almost to surpriseHayes. “Don’t say that. You haven’t fucked anything up.”
Hayes just flips a hand at the nowempty conference room as though that’s proof enough.
“Wallace will get over himself,”Tess says firmly. “You were just trying to help, you were doing what youthought was right.”
Hayes scoffs. “And what do I knowabout what’s right?”
Tess purses her lips. “You’re a goodperson, Hayes,” she says softly. “Aren’t you tired of fighting it?”
Hayes doesn’t answer. She just turnsback to the board, methodically pulling off each item stuck to it, keeping herback to Tess. They don’t say anything more and Tess only sits, watching Hayesas she works. But she doesn’t leave, doesn’t even consider it. She never does.