Work Text:
From Marika Wilkarah to her husband—
I'm not even sure if you're alive, my love. I can't even be sure you'll hear this. The Captain promises that she'll keep the recording, to deliver it to our remaining relatives when Voyager finally reaches home.
‘Home’. I think about home all the time. Did you ever get to see Bajor? My whole life I was entranced by the idea. We both grew up in the colonies, separated from what the generations before us told us was ours. How ironic that I’d be captured and brought even further away.
There are a few Bajorans on board Voyager. I never thought I'd see another of our kind again. They can't wear their earrings due to protocol, but I can't wear mine due to the damage from the Borg implants on the side of my face.
Love—I feel so much shame. I wish I could come back to you, and I know it's selfish to wish I could come back whole most of all. I want to be who I was, who you fell in love with. You may have remarried. You may be dead. But I never stopped thinking of you, even when I was barely aware of where I started and the next drone began.
The other Bajorans tell me about the wormhole and the defeat of the Cardassians. I would have loved to have been there, to visit Deep Space Nine with you. If you ever go, imagine me there beside you as you watch the wormhole open. Imagine me there with the Prophets, even if you never come to believe in them. I still don't, but I'd like to imagine I made it home after all.
SEND TO: Ensign Marika Itrim or any remaining relative.