"You know, Captain." T'Mir sat at the far end of the table in the Captain's Mess, "I once encountered a fox in the desert on Vulcan. Once I was certain the animal would attack me, I found it best to engage him first. Effectively, I am the one alive today."

"Yeah, but we're talkin' 'bout a bear here, a big Grizzly," Trip said raising his arms up in imitation, "not some pidly desert fox."

"The foxes on Vulcan are roughly the size of earth's equine species, and have three heads." T'Pol said blandly, eyeing some readings on a PADD.

"Wha!" Trip snapped around to get another look at T'Mir, she was so little, a glass of water in alluring Vulcan fingers.

"Haha!" the Captain wiped his mouth, more to hide the laugh, "It looks like she's got you there, Trip."

"What age were you when you began living in the desert?" T'Pol asked.

"I was just beyond eleven standard years of age." T'Mir stated quietly.

"You were eleven!" It was Archer's turn to spin his head.

"And how old are ya now?" Trip blurted out without thinking. She looked a little shocked, and he was quick to apologize, "Sorry, I forgot."

"Not at all." she nodded, "I am now seventeen standard years."

"So what will you do after we destroy the shipyard?" the Captain asked. "Everything you knew is gone in this world."

"I have made new starts before, Captain." T'Mir answered. "I expect I will return to the cave in the desert and continue to make life as I always have."

"What? No." Trip said, "You'll stay here, on Enterprise." he looked back and forth between T'Pol and the Captain, "There'll always be a place for you here."

"I agree." the Captain said, raising a glass in toast, "Welcome to the family... of Enterprise." he grinned sheepishly.

"Here, here." Trip laughed, raising his glass.

T'Pol sighed and raised her glass as well. T'Mir nodded her thanks, but she wasn't ready to toast it yet.

A crewman brought out the first of the dinner plates, thick, juicy sirloin steaks for the captain and Trip.

Curiously, T'Mir leaned forward and sniffed, licking her lips slightly.

When the crewman returned, bringing bowls of plomeek broth, she looked marginally disappointed.

"Crewman," she said, catching him as he was about to return to the Galley, "I wonder if you might have another of those in there." She didn't point, merely gesticulated with the longing curiousity in her eyes.

The crewman eyed her, raising his own eyebrow in a convincing Vulcan imitation. "Of course, Ma'am."

T'Mir didn't smile, but her lips rolled in excited anticipation as the steak was set down in front of her. Eyeing it hungrily, she reached forward to take it. She stopped suddenly, her hands outstretched inches from it, she looked around to see if anyone had caught her error.

They all had, staring at her intently. "What're ya doin'?" Trip asked casually.

She folded her hands back into her lap quickly. "I apologize." she said, "I – forgot."

"Forgot?" Trip continued.

"Utensils." she indicated, picking up a knife and fork, as though they were a new concept.

They all watched her, unblinking.

"I was terrible as a child." she explained, poising the knife delicately over the slab of meat, "I doubt I've improved." She trepidatiously cut into the meat, securing a single large piece rather roughly.

With eye contact, the captain was forced to sit upright and give her a look that said 'go ahead, dig in, I understand this is perfectly normal.'

She took the piece in her mouth and chewed defiantly. After several mastications, she swallowed with a drink of water. "Utensils had limited use in the desert."

"And meat?" T'Pol asked, her unease ill covered.

"In far greater abundance than vegetation."

A long silence passed in the Mess, T'Mir churlishly gulping down animal sirloin.

The Captain cleared his throat. "We've been called back to Earth for a few days. The World Waterpolo Championships will be on in San Francisco. Wanna catch some games between briefings, Trip?"

Trip's face relaxed. "You know I would love to, Captain. Hey, T'Mir, ever seen a waterpolo game?"

She gulped, a slight look of distaste at the over-large bolus. "Indeed, I do enjoy the sport." she stated, "However, this seems like an opportunity for you and the Captain to experience some male bonding, 'guy time', I believe."

Trip nearly burst an uncomfortable seam laughing. "Alright, then, next time."

"Of course." she smiled.

Opening Theme

"Home and Away"

When the dishes were all cleared away, and Archer lazily scratched his belly, and T'Pol declared she had work to do, they each went their separate ways. Trip walked T'Mir to her quarters, claiming it was on the way.

"Is there something more, Commander?" she asked as they silently approached the door of her temporary cabin.

"Trip is fine." he said, obviously distracted.

"But there is something else, Trip?"

"Yeah," he scratched the back of his neck subconsciously, "This is awkward."

"Certainly no more awkward than you travelling an extra three decks 'on the way' to your quarters." she raised an eyebrow at him.

"Ah, right." he smiled, hoping she'd let him off the hook.

"What would be less awkward is for you to tell me the true purpose of your coming here."

"I, um, wanna know about T'Pol." he stated dumbly.

She continued to stare at him, raising her eyebrows subtly as if to tell him to explain.

"I mean, do I have a chance, you know?" he stuttered.

She raised her eyebrows again.

"I just, I feel her, okay, we've been through a lot together and I get this feeling like I've never had before, except I've had it all along for her. If you don't have any ideas, that's fine, we'll just forget about this." he turned to walk away, flustered and embarrassed.

"Trip." she called him back, "I have no experience from my prior life on this matter. We three were a family once, but I was very young and remember little of her. I do, however, have experience from this new setting."

He turned back hopefully, and took her invitation into her quarters.

"You must understand," she said taking a seat on her bed and indicating for him to do the same, "that it is illogical for a Vulcan to seek out a Human."

His face fell.

"But it is also illogical for T'Pol to avoid seeking a marriage bond with you."

"I don' care about marriage, just a courtship, would be nice."

"I'm afraid you've already pushed the limits of the Vulcan courtship. A bond has been formed, now a priest must sanctify it."

"Okay." Trip nodded slowly, puzzlement across his features.

"In Vulcan society, a marriage is arranged, preferably before the male experiences his first Pon Farr."

"A what?"

"I will get to that if you do not interrupt."

"Sorry."

"You know of the Pon Farr, a male's drive to procreate."

"The one that happens every seven years."

"Yes. Typically, on a male's first Pon Farr, the male and a suitable female are married by a priest. The male and female may have never met before in their lives. The priest forms a bond, and she too feels the effects of Pon Farr."

"And then..." Trip's voice trailed off, "Ah."

"Yes." she nodded, "That would be an area of awkward discussion."

Trip chuckled.

"This is a very unusual path for a Vulcan to choose, and while the Kir'Shara encourages personal selection of mates, I do not believe T'Pol will come to a decision in due time. By this, I mean you will probably be too elderly at that point to withstand the rigours of Vulcan intimacy."

He gulped. "So what do we do?"

"I will think on it." T'Mir rose off the bed, "Goodnight, Commander."