On some level, he understands. Before they'd left, she'd been trying to find her independence. He remembers the smell of her kitchen in her apartment, the bright potted plants, the way she'd moved easily around the space she'd made for herself. Even though their conversation had been difficult and, in hindsight, a sign of worse things to come, he'd felt proud of her in that moment. Proud she'd been able to scrape up that much of a normal life for herself.

Now, though, it grates against him. Something about her being hurt sends him back to being her teacher, her protector. The man who stood up to Scott because he was sick and tired of seeing unprepared children put on the firing line.

But he does understand.

He stands in front of the mirror for a few long breaths, turning his thoughts over in his head, examining the places where they're fractured and weeping something darker than blood.

"Fine. You're not. But you're.. someone I care about." He looks at her, sitting there so small and calm. The truth pushes up against his tongue. He lowers his eyes down to his hands. "I failed you once, Ruth. I can't.. I can't do it again."