action;
[ she's fairly certain her heartbeat changes at his touches, the nod against her cheek and the hand gently rubbing across her back and most certainly the tightness of their embrace. suddenly it's changed from comforting him to comforting her and she finds that she appreciates the gesture more than she thought she would. it's been a very long time since she's experienced closeness of this degree. perhaps it's been long enough that a part of her is latching onto the one person in this dome she's comfortable enough with to ask this of.
her response is to let her hands move upwards as her arms tighten around him, holding him tightly to her, as though just by their closeness and sheer willpower she can make this discussion far less painful for both of them than she knows it will be. ]
Yes. I knew her for her entire life. I was there when she was born... and when she died. [ and yet, in spite of her best efforts, the last part of her answer is short and soft, a perfect example of the weight and guilt she carries with her and never lets anyone see. ] Ashley was my daughter. [ and she blames herself for ashley's capture and subsequent death. if she hadn't agreed to let ashley and henry carry out their insane plan, perhaps ashley would be here with her. perhaps helen wouldn't be as lonely and bitter as she had come to feel. ]
It's been over a century for me since that day and yet... it feels as though it just happened. [ she can imagine that jean-luc feels the same about his assimilation and everything that happened with that situation and it all brings her nicely back to the fear she holds towards her feelings for him. she wonders vaguely if he will catch that and understand.
part of her wants to explain that to him, lay it all out so perhaps they can deal with it together, but her voice catches in her throat and she squeezes her eyes shut. the last thing she needs is to risk losing him. ]