That crazy little thing called trust

"He had the treasure and he didn't leave. He gave it up for us. I think that says a lot about his character."

"He had the treasure. I think that says a lot about his character."

Peter and El on Neal, S3E12 Upper West Side Story

"Must be nice to have someone who believes in you."

It's not until after El is home, and Neal is trying to buy his way back into his good graces with Yankees tickets, that Peter remembers that throw away comment from their post interrogation walk through the park, on their way to pick up Rusty. He dismissed it at the time. Had to in order to keep up the act. Like Kramer said, if Neal was a suspect, he needed to be treated like one and there was no way Peter could do that and still be a friend. He justified his choice by reminding himself if someone else proved the treasure didn't burn, then Neal would still be the prime suspect and there'd be no way for Peter to save him. The bestway to protect Neal was to find out exactly what trouble he'd gotten into. It was the only way. It was.

It wasn't.

Standing with one arm gripping the stairs bottom baluster, torn between grabbing his keys to go sort this out right now and sitting on his couch to watch the late game, Peter is trapped in indecision. With the treasure still a wedge between them, Keller having done himself a favour in the guise of doing them one, things are still not as they should be and Peter's trying very hard to ignore the part of his brain that's telling him it's because he's not letting it.

Is El right? Is his constant mistrust of Neal a barrier for what he overall wants to achieve? Is he even capable of trusting Neal? Peter thinks he can, when it matters. He's certain Neal would never intentionally hurt them. Unintentionally, unfortunately, is a distinct possibility. Neal still does not see that running isn't an option anymore, if it ever was. Neal in all his Neal-ness is an integral part of their lives now, whether he's good or bad or in between, Peter will never let him just walk away from the life he's built here, never.

Following on from his conversation with El, wherein he enlightened her on his Neal misbehaves and gets away with it because he's Neal theory and she pointed out that it's the intent that matters, not the act. Peter thinks that maybe knowing what Neal did isn't enough, before he can make a decision on whether or not to close the Keller case, before he can settle things in his own mind, he needs to know why Neal did what he did. It's the only way he'll know how to spot the signs and stop it from happening again.

A soft tap, tap, tap on the front porch glass breaks Peter from his stuck position at the bottom of the stairs.

"I'll get it," he calls out lacklustre to El, already unhooking the latch.

Swinging the door open, still mulling over his choices, Peter's first sight is of – would you believe it? – Neal. He's standing grinning up at him, as if butter wouldn't melt, holding out a ribbon wrapped, yellow cardboard bakery box grasped tightly in both hands.

"Cookies?" Neal smiles wider, offering the box as he steps inside without invitation.

Peter takes it with the usual amount of suspicion he has for Neal's spontaneous gifts, "conned your way into the girl scouts?"

He eyes the box carefully, checking for signs of tampering before eventually lifting the lid and taking out a perfectly round and crumbly one to inspect it.

Neal's eyes narrow, posture stiffening. "You know, for once it would be nice if you didn't immediately suspect an ulterior motive."

Peter takes his focus off the cookie and makes eye contact. "You know for once it would be nice if you'd just be honest without resorting to bribery." He grins to soften the blow before taking a large bite.

Shoulders slumping, Neal's the first to look away, and he shuffles awkwardly, removing his hat and dropping it in the middle of the coffee table before turning around again. "Can't I just do something nice?"

"You can." Peter says coolly around a mouthful of, admittedly, deliciously chewy oat and raisin. "You don't."

Neal's eyes blow wide, looking truly hurt and says nothing. Peter studies him, looking for any clues that might explain the sudden distress and coming up empty.

"You always have a reason Neal." He shakes his head, and backs away toward the couch, intending to sit.

He's hoping the kid will naturally follow his lead like usual when trying to plead his way out of trouble, but something else happens. Something Peter's never experienced from Neal before.

"Well maybe Elizabeth will like the cookies." Snatching the box out of Peter's hand, chin in the air, he stomps off through to the kitchen.

Chuckling at the audacity of this kid, Peter takes a second to get his amusement in check and re-evaluate his plan before trailing after him. Sure enough, as he expected, upon stepping through the kitchen door he finds Neal leaning against the counter, looking forlorn and accepting all the sympathy El has to offer.

He almost hates to the break up the little scene, mainly because it's the first time in a long while that he's seen Neal look so open. But now as before, Peter feels he can't let emotion guide him. If they are going to put this to bed he needs to stay firm and come at this like an Agent, not a friend.

"Hon, sorry, but I need to talk to Neal alone."

It's a blink and you miss it moment, but Peter catches the flash of fear in Neal's eyes the second El moves to leave. Clearly having spotted the same, as she passes his astute wife rises up on her toes and pecks Peter on the cheek. Communicating with nothing but the earnest blue of her eyes to tread carefully, she pats him once on the chest before turning to look back at Neal. The sheepish nod she gets from him in response tells him El might just have a better understanding of what's going on here than he has. Undeterred from his plan however, Peter nudges his chin in the direction of the back door.

Shoving both hands in his pockets, Neal follows him out onto the patio. "You okay? You seem a little tense. If it's about the plan tomorrow-"

"This has nothing to do with Woods." Peter settles himself at the table.

He can't say he's looking forward to having dinner with the guy responsible for managing money for the Juarez cartel. Anything goes wrong and it's not just the case blown, drug lords don't exactly take kindly to anyone poking their nose into their finances, and those that do don't usually live to tell the tale.

"So, what is it?"

Neal's shuffling his feet, dancing nervously from one foot to the other, seemingly unable to keep still.

"Well this is something new," Peter lilts. He's holding back a mocking smile, but only barely. "You're nervous."

"Well you'd be nervous too." The kid suddenly dips his head to stare at the floor, uttering much more quietly, "you're clearly still mad with me."

He plans to challenge that, but seeing Neal take a step backwards, gaze flitting between the door and floor, Peter realises what's about to happen.

"Hey," Peter quickly grabs his wrist, hard, and tugs him forward, forcing him to sit down. "I'm not mad, not really, but I do need answers."

"Answers?" Neal repeats whisper quiet, a frown on his face as he begrudgingly relaxes into the cold metal chair. "I swear Peter, I'm not keeping anything else from you."

It's said with such conviction Peter has to applaud him, the energy needed to push down all the fear and anxiety obviously coursing through him must be immense.

"I know, I believe you, don't worry." He keeps his tone light. The last thing Peter wants is Neal feeling on edge, there's been enough of that these past few weeks for both of them. He takes a deep breath. "What I need to know now is, why?"

"Why?" Neal repeats, as if the word holds no meaning.

Peter nods, settling back into his own chair again, only now regretting not bringing a beer with him to make things more casual. "I know Mozzie stole the treasure, I know you knew and hid it from me-"

Neal springs forward, hands flying out of his pockets and pushing against the table, "I didn't come here to talk about this again-"

"Neal, I need to know why you made the choices you made so I can decide whether or not to close the case."

It's the truth, well… partly. The other part is less noble. He wants to know if closing the Keller case is really the right thing to do for both of them. Neal misbehaves. His mind just can't stop thinking it. A small part of his brain is telling him he's doing this all wrong, but the larger more logical part is ordering him to stick to the plan. Not be a wuss. Tough love. Cruel to be kind. He's doing Neal a misjustice if he doesn't stick to the firm boundaries he states over and over again Neal so desperately needs.

"It's about consequences." Neal recites as if plucking it right out of his brain. "Your speech about not rewarding me for bad behaviour, remember?" He tips his head to the side mockingly.

"Consequences." Peter nods. "So…"

"So?" Neal bats right back when it's clear he's stuck on how to start

The kid is clever, Peter can't help but smile at that. "Alright," he takes a deep breath and asks the question, "why didn't you come to me, tell me the truth from the beginning?"

"I did tell you. I told you I didn't steal the treasure!"

Peter holds back the growl of frustration. This is Neal. He knows, no matter how much he wishes it were different, Neal will never offer up more than he's been asked for. It's ingrained in him to keep everything a secret, to trust no one. Some day's Peter falls for it and fails to ask the right question, on those days Peter is frustrated and annoyed, he's left with the wrong answers and nothing but dead ends. On other days they can just end up arguing, because Neal isn't the only one who struggles to say what he means. Peter thinks Neal actually believes his own half-truths and others self-drawn conclusions, which is somehow worse, but not an issue they should get into tonight. One emotionally charged drama at a time.

"Okay, once you knew where the treasure was and who took it, why plan to run?" He restates, leaving as fewer gaps for loopholes as possible.

Neal's lips act as if they're sown shut. Eye's getting impossibly wider with every passing second the question is left unanswered.

"You didn't steal it, yet you let me continue suspecting you did. Made yourself an accomplish in the process. You risked everything Neal! All I want to know is why?"

"Mozzie." Neal shrugs, voice quiet but strong.

Peter sighs, realises he's leaning forward, invading Neal's personal space and slowly sits back to think.

"I know he's your friend, but Neal," he breaths out a heavy sigh, "this was your life -"

"You think I didn't know that?" Neal snaps, hands once again pushing against the table and this time he uses the momentum to stand up. "I couldn't turn him in Peter. He's my friend, but you're my friend too and that's why it was so…." There are tears in his eyes suddenly, but Neal doesn't turn away or try to hide them. "I didn't want to have to choose, I thought if I could just try and keep everything together, make you both happy then maybe things would work out."

Neal swipes at his cheeks, using the sleeve of his fancy suit to dab at any remaining moisture. Peter sits, watches and waits. Not because he doesn't know what to do in response, but because he needs Neal to get through this moment on his own. Feeling guilt and hurt is all part of the consequences he insists Neal always avoids by running away or finding excuses, breaking down his purposefully bad actions into technicalities until they hold none of their original meaning.

"You could have asked for my help." Peter slips in softly, gaze fixed on Neal, keeping himself still and calm lest any movement cause him to spook.

"Your help?" Neal splutters, tears slipping loose and trailing those flushed cheeks.

Peter's suddenly questioning his decision to push this. He hates seeing anyone upset, and especially hates it if he knows he's the reason, but that's something else Peter knows about consequences that Neal doesn't. They don't just impact on the wrong doer.

"Yes Neal, I could have helped you."

"Peter, you accused me of stealing the art seconds after the warehouse exploded!" He laughs, not a happy laugh either, a desperately sad one. "I was still in shock from Adler trying to kill me. I mean god," he clasps both hands over his head and paces the very edge of the patio. "If you hadn't come back when you did I would-"

"You don't know that." Peter jumps in, not wanting to be reminded of how very close he came to losing Neal through his own poor decision making.

"If Mozzie hadn't set that fire, you wouldn't have known to come back for me." Neal stops pacing and looks him straight in the eye. "Adler would have shot me. That's the truth, because I would never have taken his deal."

"What deal?" Peter sits forward, the effort to suppress his own fear and anxiety over the many possible outcomes of that day instantly forgotten.

Neal's glassy-eyed stare turns to face the garden fence.

"Neal?" Peter pushes.

"He wanted me to join him, okay," Neal throws his hands up in frustration. "I refused. He wasn't about to leave a witness behind."

Peter sighs and sinks back, tapping a thoughtful finger to his cheek. "You never told me that."

"You never asked." Neal shrugs.

Neither mention why that was. For Peter it's a combined example of not asking the right question and not wanting to know the right answer. It had been an emotionally charged day, and when that seared piece of canvas fell at his feet-

"You should have trusted me."

"Why?"

Peter rears back, "why?" He scoffs, "you really need to ask that?"

"Yeah." Neal folds his arms. "I do. Because I stood alone outside that warehouse and you accused me of taking something I didn't. I could have died Peter and you would have always thought I'd stolen that treasure. You wouldn't have questioned it because I'm a criminal, and I always will be in your eyes."

"That's not-" He starts shaking his head, but the doubt niggles at him.

"Not what? True?" Neal pushes, daring Peter to deny it.

He goes one better; he completely ignores it. "So, someone leaves an anonymous card on your table, with the location of a priceless cache of treasure embossed on it and the first thing you do is go there alone and not tell anyone? Not tell me? What innocent person dos that?"

"You had made it very clear you thought I had stolen it, if I showed up with that card…" Neal's voice wavers, "I was scared Peter," he shrugs unapologetically. "I didn't think you'd believe me."

"You should have given me the chance,"

"Oh for!" Neal spins, pulls at his hair, making the gelled strands stand up at odd angles. "Why can't you for once look at things from my point of view? I told you the truth and you threw it back in my face," his voice cracks, "even after everything" and breaks.

Peter looks away. "I had good reason to suspect you."

Screeching of rusty metal hinges breaks the silence that reins after those words leave his thoughtless lips. Following the sound, he sees the garden gate is left swinging, and hears the pounding of feet fade the further they get down the refuse alley at the back of the house.