He should have seen it coming.

He should have been there.

As he stood at the door, watching her through its narrow glass window, he felt an overwhelming sadness. How had he let it come to this? She should have been able to rely on him and he had let her down. He'd lost track of how long he had been standing there; she hadn't yet noticed him, consumed by her own thoughts no doubt. He couldn't bring himself to consider what was going on in her tortured mind, he did not begin to understand what she must be going through. If he was honest with himself he was scared to enter the room, terrified by the new reality that faced them both, not knowing if he could measure up or be what she needed him to.

He thought back to the previous day, when they had finally tracked her down after what felt like weeks of searching. The search team were covering ground they had been over before, beginning to lose faith, but not wanting to face the prospect of what that would mean. It was pure luck that he found her really, by the time she noticed his approach it was too late for her to hide, and she was in no state to run.

He had gone over to her and she let him hold her for what felt like an age, gently sobbing into his coat as he tried to shelter her from the world. It was an alien feeling to him, being the one openly offering the affection. He had lost count of the times she had embraced him over the years, him always awkward, although he was sure that she knew how much it meant to him. She was the daughter he would have wanted if life had turned out differently, a bright and colourful presence in what had often felt like a world of grey. If only he could have been the anchor she needed to keep her safe from this storm.

Eventually he had felt her go quiet, her childlike sobs replaced by slowed breathing and he knew it was time for them to move, for him to find her the help she desperately needed.

That is how she had ended up here. He had managed to persuade her to come, coaxing her, reassuring her that everything would be OK. He had used her unflinching trust in him, and he had felt both their hearts rip open when she realised that he had betrayed her; when the doctors explained that she couldn't go home, that she couldn't trust what her mind was telling her. She had looked at him with hatred in that moment. Yet another person she now believed meant her harm. He knew he had done the right thing, that there was never another option, but that knowledge would not help him sleep at night.

His thoughts back in the present, he watched her sitting quietly on the chair, limbs tightly knotted in the same position as when he had found her, so vulnerable and alone, and cursed himself again for the part he had played. He knew her better than almost anyone, she had confided in him and leant on him countless times, as he had on her, yet at the time she most needed him he had put himself first. He had been blinded by narrow-minded morality, he hadn't stopped to consider that her actions leading to the roof collapse, although misguided, may have been more complex than a simple disregard of others to benefit herself. He had spent many restless nights recently thinking this through, he should have realised the situation wasn't black and white, that she would never deliberately put her staff in harm's way. He had seen her sacrifices over the years, her basic humanity; yes she was impulsive and often forthright, and he couldn't deny he had seen her be selfish at times, but she was also compassionate and desperate to protect others from the pain that had blighted so much of her life.

The day he had made her move out she thanked him. He had berated her, scolded her and told her to go, and she had put up no resistance, just tried to ease his conscience. Why did he not see it then? Why had he not sat her down and talked things through? He had seen how stressed she had been, her desperation to talk to him in the days before it happened, when all he had focused on was her betrayal over the boat fire. Could he call it betrayal? She had tried to protect him, shield him from the damage his own grief had caused, putting herself in the firing line for him and instead of gratitude he had given her the cold-shoulder. She had made wrong decisions and she should have known how he felt about dishonesty, but even so he couldn't shake the realisation that he had been unduly harsh when he should have been in her corner, like she was always in his. Why had he then left town to go on some fool's errand at the other end of the country, adding to her isolation, only finding out what had happened when she had already been missing for days? What made it harder to bear was that she wouldn't blame him for any of it; well the woman he knew wouldn't, and he hoped desperately that she was still in there somewhere, not too deeply trapped inside her own mind to be set free.

He took a deep breath. He knew that the time had come, that she needed him and he couldn't put it off any longer. He pushed the door open and stepped inside.