The title of this piece is taken from a scene in Diane Carey's novelization of the fifth- and sixth-season episode, "Equinox."

Star Trek and Star Trek: Voyager are the copyrighted property of CBS Studios, Inc. This fiction item is intended for entertainment purposes only. No compensation has been received or will be accepted for it, and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended or should be implied.

The Witch in the Mirror

Every morning for nearly six years, I've gotten up, had a cup of coffee, and headed into the sonic shower in my quarters aboard Voyager. I've looked out the view port at stars no human saw before we did. It's breathtaking. I despise it.

Every morning, I've had to get up, put my fears aside, and become The Captain who is guiding this crew. Every morning, without exception, I've had to carefully hide my own feelings away behind a mask.

Every morning, it gets a little easier.

I'm beginning to wonder if there's anything left behind that mask.

Other captains have held their positions much longer than six years. Picard commanded the Stargazer for twenty-five and then went on to the Enterprise. But how many other captains have had to keep up that mask without a break for this long? How many other captains have gone this long without a break, without a chance to anchor someplace where they don't have to be The One in Charge?

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror this morning as I came out of the shower. This is something I've done nearly every morning for almost six years, but this morning I stopped. This time, I really looked at the person who was staring back at me.

When did the lines of my face become that hard? How long have those wrinkles from fatigue been around my mouth? When did that awful, flat, almost dead look come into my eyes?

When did I start looking so old?

James Kirk once said that space travel was for the young, but when he said that he was at least five years older than I am now. He'd also been stuck behind a desk for several years, doing something he hated.

But I'm in a different situation. I'm not stuck behind a desk. I'm on a starship, living out the dream I've always had: exploring the unknown. I'm doing what I love to do.

Right?

Does it matter? I don't have the luxury of deciding whether or not I like the situation I'm in. Voyager has to get home. I made a promise. I committed to this, and I will not back away from that vow. Too many people are depending on me.

Those awful eyes were staring back at me. It was almost too much to bear, so I dropped my gaze, looking at my naked body. I ran my hands down my sides, just to feel the flesh and muscle there. It's a woman's body, and it's a figure I can be proud of. Not every woman keeps this shape halfway into her fifth decade.

But in my mind, I admit sometimes wondering whether I am still a woman.

The captain of a ship has to be The Captain. First, foremost, and completely. I have to be the strength, the guidance, the one who bolsters confidence and sets an example, even in the worst of times. That's a tall order. Sometimes I don't even have the luxury of being a real person, never mind a woman.

Yes, it makes for some lonely nights. But what can I do about it? My position as captain precludes more than the most superficial of relationships with anyone in the crew. The nature of our mission keeps me from developing a permanent relationship with anyone outside Voyager. Yet anyone who did join our crew would automatically come under my authority, and thus become off-limits to The Captain.

I admit to feeling an overwhelming envy when I saw the wedding ring on Lieutenant Kelly's hand. The Mars missions were long, I know, but he had somewhere he could go back to, and he was in regular communication with his home. He didn't have to be a Leader, all day, every day, for years on end, with no one to talk to but himself.

So what do I have left? Do I keep forcing the person I am, the woman I am, to step aside for The Captain? Or do I dare let that person through and risk undermining my own authority, risk destroying the very protocols and principles that have held this ship together for so long?

Is there really any question about that?

I suppose I could use the holodeck as an alternative. But nothing there is real. Would illusion be enough for this person inside me? Could it really provide the respite I need from The Captain? On a more practical note, do I dare? Rumors travel faster than Warp 10, and the wrong ones about me could be very damaging.

Several weeks back, Chakotay accused me of being on a witch hunt while I was chasing the Equinox. I didn't deny it; I very well might have been. I felt I was justified given Captain Ransom's actions. He accepted my answer, but then he pointed out that the witch I was chasing may very well be in my mirror.

I was furious with him for that. I was furious about the situation in general, about what it forced me to do. But now, looking at the person I see in my mirror this morning, I'm not so sure Chakotay was wrong.

Maybe there is a witch in my mirror. I fear her name is Captain.