I used to call it fire -- that spark in her that attracted me at first. I think I married her for that. Or I was distracted from her personality by her eyes, her hair, the curve of her neck, her scent... Either way, I was too young and too foolish, so I married her. She gave up a military career of her own -- like me, she never had interest in any other profession -- so that she could raise our son. I had said: "Better for one of us to focus our energies on our duty to the Union and the other our duty to family than dividing our time between both." She had agreed.
And in every argument since, she has made tribute about the Great Sacrifice of her career. As if a woman like her would sacrifice anything. I sometimes wonder if she made the agreement only to use it as leverage to get her way with me. I wonder if it was not some plot from the beginning to be able to stay in our home with no responsibility aside from raising our child without me.
Which is not to say that I don't love her, that I will ever stop loving her. Which is not to say that, when I do see her, that fire doesn't still attract me even as it infuriates me. But it is more like combat than a marriage. It is discovering her weak point before she discovers mine. It is going behind enemy lines to find information on her covert activities. It is looking at my son and wondering which side of the battle he is on.
So, is this commitment? I'm not sure. If this were a battle with ranks and orders, wins and losses, I would say yes; it would be commitment to my superiors and Cardassia. As it is, the definition of our marriage is so fluid that I couldn't begin to decide where my commitment would lie, if it does exist.
Now, I have a bottle of expensive kanar on the table and a woman whose name I don't recall waiting for me outside of my door, so perhaps definitions and decisions can wait. It makes no difference -- they have been waiting for years already.((OOC: Originally posted to trek_blog))