She loved the warmer months of the year. As Vicky made her way through the streets of San Francisco, in the Starfleet district (which was, as with everything in Starfleet, a bore most of the time), she strutted her stuff. She took care of herself, she took care of her body, and she made damn sure to buy clothes to show that off.

The looks she was receiving more than confirmed her suspicion that she had picked the right outfit for this occasion: a pair of denim shorts and a loose-fitting, red top. It wasn't anything particularly special but it showed off her legs and was plenty fun to stroll around in. Considering how much strolling she was planning to do today, picking the right outfit was an absolute necessity.

Today, she was shopping: shopping with Seven. She could barely contain her excitement at the prospect of it. She hadn't had a shopping trip with someone new in ages and taking out her brother's girlfriend? Oh, it was just delicious.

It didn't take her long to make her way into Seven's building, decorated with colors that made funeral homes look exciting, and then to her apartment. She rang the bell and, as expected, the door opened.

Seven's face was a mixture of confusion and a smidgen of surprise. "Vicky?"

Vicky beamed at her, her face feeling like it was going to pop off with how excited she was. "We're going shopping!" She tried not to jump up while saying it but she failed.

Seven gave her one of those Vulcan looks. "I am unaware of this."

"Don't you remember Christmas?"

Pain briefly flashed in Seven's eyes before her expression became cool once more. "Ah, yes." She stood a bit taller, which only accentuated how much taller she was than Vicky, and tensed. "However, my birthday has passed."

Vicky waved the comment off. "Nonsense! It was just this past week! It's still your birthday weekend!"

"My ‘birthday weekend'?" Seven seemed completely unfamiliar with the idea of it. "A birthday is a celebration that lasts only a day," she stated dryly. "Having it extend into the weekend is inefficient."

Vicky made a face. "You've never had a proper birthday, then." She held out her hands. "A birthday is a celebration and it shouldn't just be only a day!" Seven looked unconvinced but Vicky continued, undeterred. "I promised to take you shopping and I'm a girl of my word. I want to buy you some clothes."

Seven glanced at her attire - a simple white, long-sleeved shirt and a pair of khaki pants - and looked back at Vicky. "I have a sufficient amount of clothing, but thank you for the offer."

Vicky slightly frowned. Seven was proving as difficult to convince as her brother. All right, if she's going to act like Paulie than I guess I better argue with her like him. "Your clothing is ‘sufficient' but it doesn't really flatter you."

Seven narrowed her eyes. "The purpose of clothing is to provide protection from outside elements and to conform to societal rules. Both these functions are fulfilled currently."

Vicky had to refuse the urge to groan and just barely did it. Seven viewed clothes like Paulie did - just something to wear. "It's not just about functionality," she said, cringing a little at the last word. "It's about fun, too, not just function." She looked Seven over, top to bottom, and still found herself amazed at the woman. "I mean, yeah, you do make everything you wear look good. You could wear a trash bag and look good."

Seven's face reddened slightly, but her tone was still cool. "Your compliment is appreciated, but I fail to see the purpose of dressing for ‘fun.'"

Vicky put on her best smile. "That's exactly why you need this: let me show you how fun this can be!"

Seven still looked unconvinced, but Vicky could see the woman's mind at work. "Perhaps," she admitted.

Sensing a changing in the tides, Vicky clapped her hands, her enthusiasm barely contained. "Wonderful! I know exactly where we should go first! You can pick anything, it's your birthday gift, after all."

Seven's lips curled upward ever-so slightly, her eyes flashing amusement. "I didn't agree."

Vicky winked at her. "It sounded like a ‘yes' to me."

****

She breathed in, a wide smile on her face as the sounds of the waves crashing filled the air. Vicky turned to Seven and threw out her arms. "Welcome to Miami!"

Seven looked completely out of her element and uncomfortable. Her eyes played across the multiple people strolling around outside the transporter hub, a good number of them in swimsuits. "I believe I am inappropriately dressed for this event. We should return later."

Vicky wouldn't allow that kind of thinking, not for an instant. She took Seven's hand and pulled. "It's fine! This place has the best stuff, it's just a gem of a shop."

Seven's blue eyes look distressed but she relented. The two of them began walking down the pier, the sounds of the waves following them. Vicky loved the atmosphere here - if there was one place on Earth you could be guaranteed to find a good time, it was Miami. "Look," she said excitedly, pointing out a string of surfers out in the water, all of them quite attractive.

"Yes ... interesting," she said with little enthusiasm. Boy watching apparently wasn't her thing, which didn't surprise Vicky at all: she was dating her brother, after all. The two were more alike than different.

They soon reached the shop and Vicky began picking things out, trying her best to play to Seven's strengths: what few that she could see, anyway. Seven was an absolutely gorgeous woman but she dressed like she was retired. Very retired. "I think we should try something to match your eyes first," Vicky said as she began pulling blue tops from the clothing racks. "Do you like darker or lighter shades of blue?"

Seven, hands folded behind her back, still looked like she'd rather be in a library than in the shop. "I prefer darker," she said quietly, almost as if she were embarrassed to admit it. "Vicky, this is unnecessary. We should cease this activity and find a better use for our time."

Vicky stared at her, frankly confused. "You have been shopping before, haven't you?"

Seven offered a subtle shake of her head.

Vicky reached out and squeezed her hand. "Well, let me show you the ropes." This was going to be a longer trip than she anticipated, but that was all right: she liked shopping. By the time this was over, Seven would, too. She placed all the tops back onto their racks, hooked her arm through Seven's, and started from square one.

"Rule number one of shopping: don't be afraid to experiment," Vicky began. She pointed at a display mannequin: the mannequin was modeling a very simple bikini, a classic style but one that was making a comeback. "Would you wear that?"

"No," Seven responded without hesitation, her voice firm.

Vicky looked back at her with surprise. "Why? You'd be gorgeous in that. You'd give my brother a heart-attack in it!"

Seven's eyes didn't leave the mannequin, but they grew dark. She looked like she would cry, not tears of sadness but tears of rage. "Your supposition is incorrect."

"Are you afraid?" Seven whipped her head towards her, her eyes fierce, but Vicky pressed on. "It's okay to be afraid, Seven."

Seven took a breath and disengaged her arm from Vicky. She went over to the rack closest to the mannequin, grabbing a similar bikini outfit, and held it up towards Vicky. "Direct me to the nearest changing room."

Vicky just smiled.

****

The holomirror before her confirmed that she had made a mistake. She had let her emotions dictate her actions and now, standing before the holomirror, those actions looked foolish at best. Seven stared at her reflection and found her feelings mixed at what she saw.

From adapting to the needs of a crew of individuals, to forming friendships, to understanding the intricacies of human social interactions, to dating, she had faced many obstacles. But some obstacles she had yet to overcome: before her was one of them. Though the Doctor had done a thorough job of removing many of her Borg implants and restoring her humanity, the procedure he used to do it was - at the time - experimental. Her upper body had benefited greatly from the procedure: it was there where the scarring was the least. The only signs of her former status as a Borg were on her arms: her right bicep and her left wrist, specifically.

They were not large areas of Borg remnants, but they stood out. It was primarily why she continued to wear long-sleeved garments. Despite the fact shorter sleeved garments would be more efficient in the warmer months, she chose to wear the longer sleeved ones. It was a choice that helped her feel ... comfortable. It brought her a sense of familiarity.

She very much missed that sense of familiarity at this moment. Dressed in the bikini she had chosen, her upper body was exposed but overall not jarring to her.

Her lower body was, specifically her upper thighs. The scarring from the Borg was most concentrated there. The Doctor's procedure, unfortunately, could not prevent that. Multiple treatments over the years had lessened the scarring somewhat, but the Borg nanotechnology had been designed to never be removed.

The scarring lessened as it moved past her thighs, eventually reaching her pelvic region and her abdomen. There it stopped, reduced to nothing more than a few hardly noticeable lines. The Doctor had been most proud of that. Medically speaking, he had reason to be proud.

But she didn't. Her eyes lingered on the reflection of her upper thighs, where the damage was the worst, and she frowned. The scarring was very noticeable and unable to be hidden. That was what her eyes were focused on and, undoubtedly, it would be what the eyes of others would focus on.

Already, her ocular implant and the Borg technology upon her hand made her stand out. Were she to enter into a public area in this, she would be the center of attention in the most unpleasant manner possible. She could not wear this.

There were some obstacles that simply could not be overcome.

****

"Seven?" Vicky called, a hint of confusion in her voice. What was taking her so long? Surely she knew how to put on a bikini. Or did no one teach her that, either? She waited impatiently outside the changing room, her foot tapping idly on the floor. For all the things Seven could do and say, someone had failed to show her the ropes when it came to girl things. Sure, the woman could calculate the distance to a nearby star in her head but when it came to shopping she was just a baby.

"Seven, are you all right?" She called out again, concern lacing her voice.

"I wish to end our shopping trip," Seven called back. She sounded off; far away.

Vicky shot the dressing room door a questioning look. "Why?"

There was silence and then the door opened, just wide enough to let Vicky in. "I will show you."

Vicky sighed and quickly entered the changing room. She was unprepared for what she saw. Immediately, her hands came together and pressed against her mouth, just to stop herself from saying something. The bikini top looked very good on Seven but the bottom was overshadowed by the minefield that was Seven's upper thighs. Angry scarring covered them, marring her.

Seven closed the door, her eyes pained. "Now you understand," she said, her voice shaking slightly.

Vicky's eyes welled up in tears but she choked them back. She felt horrible. The last hour she had been dragging Seven around in Miami, the place where people came to dress in swimsuits all day, and Seven just took it. The woman hadn't said a word but had been plenty uncomfortable. Vicky had assumed it was just because she was naturally shy, but this ... this explained a lot.

Vicky removed her hands from her mouth and took a steadying breath. "Forgive me." The words seemed small and useless to her; clearly, Seven deserved a better apology but what could she say to make this better? Nothing. I can say nothing.

Seven offered a controlled nod. "Your apology is accepted." She opened the door. "Please leave so I may change."

A huge wave of guilt hit Vicky and she desperately wanted to get out from under it. As she looked over Seven again, an idea struck her. "Wait," she blurted out. She held up her index finger. "Just give me a minute."

Seven looked at her with a mixture of confusion and frustration. "I wish you to leave, now."

Vicky clasped her hands together. "Please," she begged, "give me a minute. Just a minute, one minute, and I can fix this." She had spent years shopping, years touring the quadrant looking at the fashion of the worlds of the Federation, and she knew how to solve this. She just needed a chance, but she didn't exactly deserve one right now.

Seven looked at her angrily. "This experience has been futile. It should be discontinued."

"I messed up, I know and I'm sorry." She stepped a little closer to her. "But give me a chance to make it better. Please?"

Seven stared at her coldly before turning away from her, back to the mirror. Her eyes looked pained once more. "One minute."

Vicky didn't bother to thank her; rather, she shot out of the changing room and back to the racks of swimsuits. There was no bikini out there that could hide Seven's damaged thighs, that was certain, and it was a crime: that woman was gorgeous but to be forever reminded about her past like that ... it felt like the universe was piling on.

Part of Vicky was infuriated at the Borg. Part of her was infuriated at herself. She should have checked, should have asked, should have done something besides plow into this like a know-it-all but she got lost in the excitement. Excuses, excuses, she chided herself. Just find it!

In only took her a few moments of frantically searching before she found what she was looking for. She ran back to the changing room and knocked on the door. "I'm back!" The door crept open, once more just the right size for Vicky, and she entered into it.

Seven's eyes were icy but thawed a little as they stared at what she had in her hands. "What are those?"

Vicky shut the door and held out the pareos. "The solution to your problem: a pareo."

Seven's faced tensed. "There is no solution for my ‘problem,'" she responded.

Vicky shook her head. "Yes, there is." She picked the best pareo of the bunch and held it up to Seven. "It's a wraparound skirt."

Seven looked at her questioningly before her face flushed a little. "I am unfamiliar with that article of clothing."

Vicky allowed herself a small grin. "Can I show you?" Seven nodded and Vicky arranged the skirt around her. Seven watched her intently as she did it.

In a moment, the skirt was affixed to her. The difference was stark. Vicky stepped back and pointed at the mirror. "Take a look."

Seven did look: she looked hard. She turned to her left side, then her right, before facing frontwards, eyes sweeping over her image. Her upper-thighs were completely covered, not showing any of the damaged areas in the least.

The pareo had hidden them but allowed her to wear the top, showing off her body. It was a compromise but a good one in Vicky's mind. "Well?" Vicky asked, hoping Seven would agree.

Seven smoothed out a wrinkle in the pareo and looked to Vicky, her face more relaxed and her eyes much warmer. "Acceptable." She paused and added, "Thank you."

Vicky sat down on the bench in the changing room, her eyes again welling up with tears. "You shouldn't thank me." She shook her head. "I thought this would be fun for you and instead ..." Her voice trailed off. She wasn't sure what exactly to call it. "I made it not fun," she finally said.

Seven took a breath. "It was ... different," she admitted. She looked back at herself in the mirror and then back to Vicky. "I didn't believe I could wear this."

Vicky smiled at her. "Oh, you can wear it." She looked her over. "You're so much prettier than you think."

Seven's faced flushed a little redder at that. "Your compliment is appreciated but unnecessary."

"Oh, not unnecessary. Not at all." Vicky wiped her eyes. "Again, so sorry." She leaned her head back against the wall, her energy levels dropping off. "It's your birthday weekend and I'm buying." She flashed Seven a small smile. "Do you want it?"

Seven looked back at herself in the mirror. "Yes." She looked back to Vicky, her eyes questioning. "If it is agreeable to you."

Vicky nodded slowly and stood. "You make it look good." She stood, grabbed the other items, and opened the door. "I'll take all this back, we can pay, and then we can go."

"Are there other ‘rules of shopping?'" Seven asked.

Vicky gave a singular nod. "Yes. It just doesn't stop at one."

Seven looked back at herself in the mirror and then to Vicky. "Then it would be prudent if I learned the rest of them." She folded her hands behind her back. "For research purposes. The knowledge might be ... useful ... in the future."

A grin stretched across Vicky's face and she found her energy coming back in full force. "Really?"

"We should continue the lessons. You are an efficient instructor." Her lips curled upward ever so slightly. "You do not lack enthusiasm."

Vicky's eyes lit up happily. It was quite possibly the best compliment she could have been paid.