Title comes from a quote: 'Trust is earned, respect is given, loyalty is demonstrated. Betrayal of any one of those is to lose all three.'
"El?" Peter called out, closing and locking the door behind him. "You home?" Really, the stakeout had ended early enough that Elizabeth should still be out, but Peter had a honed sixth sense of when he wasn't alone in a building, and it was definitely pinging at him now.
He made his way upstairs, absently wondering where Satchmo was. Chances were, he knew, he would find Elizabeth curled up in bed with her laptop, Satchmo beside her, too involved in whatever she was doing to hear him come in. Peter smiled at the thought, and took care to keep his steps quiet. It'd be a nice surprise for her, and he could almost imagine the look on her face now.
What he couldn't imagine was what he actually saw when he opened the door to their bedroom: Neal Caffrey, sitting on the bed, with an expression of heartbreaking devastation.
He startled as Peter came in, looking up at him with wide eyes before hunching his shoulders and dropping his gaze to the floor.
"Neal." Peter strove to keep his voice even. "What are you doing in my house?"
Neal didn't try to explain, didn't even look up, just sat there looking small and sad and broken, in a way Peter hadn't seen since Kate's plane exploded.
He softened his tone. "Has something happened to Sara? To Mozzie?"
Neal flinched, a sign so small to be imperceptible to anyone who hadn't spent the last eight years studying him.
"Neal, is Mozzie in trouble?"
Neal still didn't say anything. That alone was worrying to Peter, even if this had been a more normal situation. Neal was always talking, always out there, never this closed off and silent. It was completely unlike him.
He sat down beside Neal on the bed, hesitantly placing a hand on his shoulder. "It'll be alright," he said, because what else could he say?
He glanced around the room, too uncomfortable to look straight at Neal when they were this close. Immediately, his eye caught on a detail that had escaped him before: the safe was open.
"Neal?" he growled, suspicion rearing its head. After seeing Neal so distressed, he hadn't thought too hard about why Neal was in his house, but with the safe door open, an ugly thought was creeping up on him. There was only one thing in that safe that Neal might be interested, and the only reason he would want it would be...
"I didn't take it," Neal stated quietly, as though he could tell what Peter was thinking. "I looked, but I didn't take it." Tension crept into his posture, his back straightening as he tried to shake off Peter's hand and get up. "Look, it's still in there, I'll show you."
"Neal." Neal stopped, turning until his gaze met Peter's. "I believe you," Peter said simply.
Neal slumped like a string had been cut, letting his head rest on Peter's shoulder. "I didn't steal the treasure," he admitted, voice soft. "I didn't lie to you. But I do know where it is."
Peter drew in a sharp breath. "You know where the treasure is, but you didn't steal it? Neal-"how can I believe that? he was going to continue, but he stopped himself. He'd said he believed Neal about the manifest, even though he hadn't checked to know for sure, even though there was nothing but faith to say Neal hadn't taken it. He knew the only reason Neal would want the manifest was to know what treasures were safe to sell. From the moment he accepted that Neal hadn't taken the manifest, some part of him had accepted that Neal had the treasure. That he hadn't been the one to steal it was a bit more of a leap, but maybe sometimes a leap of faith was necessary.
"Do you know who took it?" Peter asked. If he did believe that Neal hadn't taken the treasure, for him to know where it was must still mean he knew who took it.
"Yeah, I do."
Peter waited for more information, but Neal's streak of honesty seemed to have run out.
He turned to face Neal, dislodging Neal's head from his shoulder. "Neal, who took the treasure? If I'm going to protect you, I need to know what happened."
A light returned to Neal's eyes when Peter mentioned protecting him, but as Peter continued it dimmed, and Neal turned away.
Peter abruptly stood up, walking away from the bed. "Neal! I-"
"If I tell you, will he get immunity?" Neal's desperate plea interrupted him.
Peter turned back towards the bed. Neal was facing him, every muscle tensed and poised towards him, like Neal was drowning and Peter was holding the only lifejacket. That's when it finally clicked.
"It was Mozzie." Peter barked out an angry laugh. "Mozzie stole the art, and you're protecting him! I can't believe you, Neal!"
"It's not like I could have told you!" Neal bit out, anger flaring. "You accused me before I even knew it was stolen."
"You're a criminal, Neal, what was I supposed to think?"
"You could have trusted me!"
It rang out across the room, blazing a trail of silence in its wake. Neal, having sprung to his feet in their argument, moved past Peter to the door. "Goodnight, Peter."
"Neal, wait."
Neal stopped in the doorway, turning around just enough for Peter to see the hope flickering faintly in his eyes.
"Come back in here." Peter gestured to the bed.
"Normally I'd ask for dinner first," Neal snarked, but he did come in and sit down.
Peter paced back and forth a few steps, then turned and looked squarely at Neal. "You're right, I should have trusted you, and I didn't. But you haven't been exactly forthcoming with me either."
"I've never lied to you, Peter," Neal said, gaze almost painfully earnest. "I told you that, and it's still true."
"I know you, Neal. Just because you didn't lie, doesn't mean you told me the truth." Neal bowed his head slightly, acknowledging the point. Peter waited until his head came up again before continuing. "We both have to trust each other."
He expected a comeback, but Neal was silent. Slightly thrown, he continued, "I believe that you didn't steal the treasure, and I can understand why you didn't tell me - that doesn't mean I agree with it," he raised an eyebrow to emphasise his point, "just that I can see why you didn't. I should have asked you about the painting and not just assumed you stole the treasure. I admit that. We've both done things we shouldn't, but now, Neal I need you to trust me."
"I trust you, Peter. What do you need me to do?"
Peter took a moment to marvel at the faith this brilliant man had in him, shining from those stunning blue eyes, that he still wasn't sure how he had earned. Then he pushed that feeling aside. There was a treasure to deal with.
