The hesitation, the hatred, it was clear to her. She paused, her touch lightening for just a second, until he grabbed a hold of her and held in a fierce grip. He was allowed this. They were friends - had always ever only been friends, too close for romance - but she loved him as dearly as she could ever love another.
The agony he felt echoed back over her, though she knew he was trying now not to let it touch her. She didn't need a mental link with him to feel the grief. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all. He'd been devastated when Leeloo died -- and then, by a strange twist of fate, a different version of her appeared, then the same one again... And now both were gone. And he was still here, left with too many re-opened scars.
There was nothing that she could say to him. She knew that instinctively. Her hands smoothed wherever they could reach. His back, his shoulder, his arm. He was a tactile person, and though she wasn't, she knew enough of what he needed to know how to give it. This would let him know she was here, in a way that no words could.