Ready ye ears for a tale I shall spin which depicteth another yet meaningless rant of expanders.

We begin with a setting, a time and a place: in the orthodonist's office after most of a freshman school day. Who might the victim be today? None other than a Tok'ra: Vinnet and Sarah Anderson. From Vinnet's mind, for a change and an interest.

***

Sarah stared at the strange device for my benefit while the orthodonist assistants bustled around, minding their own business. It had been hard for her to explain what I was on the X-rays they had taken; if only she could have told the truth. What had she been thinking? A Tok'ra looks nothing like a metal plate, and the Tau'ri have no medical reason to insert any such plate in the neck. The assistant of the day told her that she should have it checked out by a doctor, and this advice would soon be followed to a 't' by Sarah's mother.

I reminded myself to "e-mail" Major Carter about this.

*It appears to be some kind of Goa'uld torture device,* I thought, knowing Sarah could sense it.

*It looks more medival to me.*

A dropped the matter of what it appeared to be and thought of what it was supposed to do: expand my host's palette so that she didn't have pain as she got older. Well, I would consider that an insult if any one knew of me or if Sarah could tell her parents. Unfortunatly, all I can do is stand back and see if I can decrease the time the so-called medical device is upon us. However, I shall stand by my claim that it must have developed from an earlier time period in the Tau'ri history.

***later that night***

"Sarah?" announced her mother as she entered her daughter's room. "Remember those X-rays that the orthodonist took?"

She nodded, pretending they were completely normal. "Yeah, what about them?"

A worried, disappointed look appeared on the middle-aged woman's face. "We need to get a doctor's appointment scheduled to get your neck checked out."

I was disappointed myself that I couldn't talk to her; if she knew everything, she could make more logical decisions.

My host shrugged, thinking of ways to postpone what would have been inevitible had I not been there. "I feel fine; there can't be a thing wrong with me."

"There's something in the back of your neck and you're trying to tell me there's nothing wrong with you? Maybe we should take you to the emergency room right now."

She cocked her head. "Mom, I'm fine. I haven't been sick since before last Christmas!" Needless to say that we blended shortly after Christmas.

"Nevertheless, how you feel has nothing to do with what, ya know, could be in your neck. I mean, I hope it's just a shadow on the X-ray... but we have to find out." She sighed.

*I know what could be in my neck,* she thought. *I wish I could just tell you.*

*'What if it's attached to my brain and I don't know it' with worry in your voice,* I thought to her.

She drenched her voice in as much worry and sincerity as she could without making it sound completely faked. "But what if they find out that it's attached to my brain and they can't take it out?"

"I don't think that's going to happen. That's probably not the problem."

"But how do you know? How could either of us know?" A glint of mischief appeared in her eye.

"We don't know--that's why we're going to the specialist: to find out!"

*Doh!* I heard her think. "But mom-"

"And that's final," she announced before Sarah could get another word in. She exited the room, leaving me with Sarah.

*"E-mail,"* I thought, knowing that I should tell Major Carter of the evening's events. Sarah yielded control of her body, allowing me to type my own message to the member of SG-1. Just I was about to finish the message when her mother came in again.

"Oh, Sarah, I forgot to tell you that a nice young man called for you earlier."

I tried to switch back to my host as quickly as I could, but even that was not the slowest answer her mother expected.

"Do you have a headache, hon?"

Sarah shrugged. "No; who called?"

She shook her head and mumbled to herself, "Child just hasn't been the same since last February." She now spoke up so that we could hear clearly, "He said his name was Zane."

*He was the boy in your gym class that didn't make fun of the others and didn't complete his project before the day it was due, much like you,* I told her, even though she knew of him as well. She couldn't imagine the value of not procrastinating, even though I occasionally made it impossible for her to do so.