The room smells antiseptic and it makes Helena flinch. She jerks her arm, trying to loosen her sister's grip.
"Hey, no, what's wrong? I promise this is safe."
There have been a lot of promises about safety that Helena's learnt to disregard. It's harder when it is her own voice, strangely accented. She sighs, slumping a little like a defeated child, and allows herself to be brought to the counter and an amused-looking woman.
Half an hour later, Helena is nude from the waist up, her front pressed into the table while the woman works. It is vulnerable. She doesn't like it. But her sister still has her hand, gentle and reassuring now, telling her stories about her childhood.
When she is offered the mirror many, many hours later, Helena nearly cries. Spread across her back where she had once tried so hard to create them herself are wings, each feather detailed, covering the scars. She turns, smiling widely, and watches her same smile spread across her sister's face.
"You hungry? I was starving after and you sat for, like, six times longer."
Wrapped carefully and dressed gently, they head back towards the train station by way of a burger shop. Helena can't stop smiling. The others, even Sarah, don't understand, but Cosima does. Cosima knows the need to mark herself against the pain, and now she's made Helena beautiful again.