The premise of this series is that Samantha Wildman, designated madonna figure of Voyager, has an interior life.
It isn't always pretty.

Helen8462's kind praise of the earlier drabble interludes in this series inspired this one.

I wasn't a writer, until MiaCooper said I should be.
Warmest thanks to her for opening that door and then beta-ing what emerged through it.

You stare out at me from the screen. Across a galaxy, a quarter century. Another life, now resurrected.

Hard eyes. Bruised jaw, hollow cheeks, hair like a rat's nest. They all but shaved it the next day. If you were my daughter … I shudder.

I wanted you buried, thought you were dead, good riddance, least said soonest - but no, never mended. Burying isn't curing; death isn't health.

Who is your mother? I want to ask. Want to reach through the glass, across the years, to stroke my own face, wipe away the tears I learned so early not to shed.