Helena nodded in understanding. While she didn't understand a crumbled marriage as she'd never been married, she understood the erosion of relationships and shutting people out. "It is difficult to let people in when you are hurting. But more than that it is difficult to believe in friendships and trust again. Even now I still wonder how you, Myka and Claudia can believe in me. But I know there must be something worthy of it, otherwise I am certain Myka would've shot me by now." And yet again, Helena felt old and so very tired. What was it about this place that continuously made her feel every bit of her one hundred and forty-five years?
A gentle smile curved her lips. "You are welcome, and thank you for listening. It is refreshing to know there is someone who understands. And that I can talk to someone who was there when I died." Myka had been there too, but Helena knew the other agent wasn't ready to talk about that, so she didn't push the topic with her. "I just hope the nightmares stop eventually. I still wake up at night thinking I'm dead." Helena couldn't tell if the nightmares were a simple side effect from having experienced a traumatic death, or if it was a side effect from everything Moriarty had put her through. At this point, it didn't exactly matter. What mattered was that she still saw her death at night, and she wanted that to stop.