Part 2: "All beings wish for happiness, so extend your compassion to everyone." -- Mahavamsa After a few more moments, Methos and one of the flight attendants helped the woman to her feet, waited patiently as she adjusted her flowing pastel silk garments around her, then cautiously escorted her toward the first class section, past the rows of applauding passengers. <<Are they happy because she's feeling better, or because we won't have to make an emergency landing somewhere?>> Guiltily keeping his own brand of cynicism to himself, Richie forced a smile at the strangely pale, and still wobbly, Indian woman. "Hey -- I guess you're stuck sitting with me now," he joked lamely. "This is Palek," Methos introduced, motioning with his head for Richie to back further up the aisle. "She's going to be fine -- after she gets a proper meal into her." "Thanks to you," the young woman weakly added, in a distinctive accent. She pressed her hands together and raised them to her forehead, bowing slightly to Methos before taking his seat. She shifted into the relatively wide leather expanse, adjusting her sari over her shoulder before buckling her seat belt. "You are too kind...." "No, he's not," Richie joked, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Methos shot Richie a disapproving glare. "Bring Miss Patel some cheese and fruit, and some crackers," he directed the flight attendant. "I'll check up on you, after you've eaten," Methos explained to the sheepish woman, warmly cupping a hand over hers. He turned and grabbed Richie by the shoulder. "C'mon, let's give her some peace and quiet." Hesitating in his incredulity, Richie stood open mouthed like a bass. "Where are we going? There's no room back there!" Dragging the younger man behind him, Methos started down the aisle. "There are two seats empty right in front of the bathroom." "Great... figures.... Three hours of funny smells and funnier noises." With a dramatic roll of his eyes, a fairly disgruntled young Immortal reluctantly followed his elder into the bowels of the plane -- quite literally. --------------------------- The Immortals settled into their new seats, Richie's protests calmed with a complimentary round of beers and several bags of peanuts. "So, what's the scoop?" he inquired between happy munches. A loud snort erupting from the sleeping college student in the window seat elicited a disdainful glance from the young Immortal. "She hadn't eaten all day, and was suffering from low blood sugar. I told her to have a doctor check her out as soon as she gets to her brother's home in Baltimore." Richie shook his head. "No, I mean, why'd you say a mantra over her, like it was a magic spell?" "In a way, it was. Or, rather, she believed it to be." "Okay, you've lost me." Noting the birth of the mother of all smirks, Richie quickly added, "Okay, so that's nothing new. Humor me, okay? You owe me, after giving up our seats!" Methos glanced at their anonymous companion, noting that the unidentified music blaring in the sleeping youth's headphones would certainly cover up any conversation he and Richie would have. "That was the mantra of Bhaisajaya, the Medicine Buddha." "Oh, so that's what she was saying. So, you were humoring her." "Something like that." Richie suspiciously eyed the elder man. "I knew you were a doctor -- I mean, once upon a time. Joe told me about how you fixed him up after the Watchers used him for target practice. It's just weird, seeing you act like Florence Nightingale." "Sorry to have destroyed your final illusion about me," Methos teased. "Cut the crock. You know what I mean." The elder man's expression softened somewhat. "Yeah, I do. I haven't seen that side of me, either, in far too long." Silence clothed their row for an uneasy moment, then Richie broached the obvious subject. "So, when did you become a doctor?" He paused for a moment. "I mean, you *did* go to medical school, right?" "Of course. What, do you think I'm a quack?" Methos raised a warning finger as soon as Richie's lips parted. "Don't complete that thought." He smirked slightly at the obvious disappointment in the young man's face at the lost chance for a comeback. "Yes, I went to a bona fide medical school. Heidelberg, in fact." "Never heard of it." "It was prestigious, in its day. Still is." "Okay, so when did you go -- the Stone Age?" "1453, if it matters." "Wow, they had real medical schools back then?" The honest astonishment on Richie's face canceled any possibility of insult in that statement. "Actually, the medical school opened nearly a century before." "So, why did you wait so long to go? Waiting for the dorms to be finished? Waiting for a cool fraternity to pledge?" Methos hesitated, drawing in a loud, deliberate breath as he recalled that time in his life. "No, I hadn't had a good reason to go until then, I suppose." Richie drank a mouthful of his beer. "This is gonna be good, right?" "What is?" "The real story. There *is* a story behind it, right?" The puppy-like eagerness in Richie's inquiry could not be denied. "I suppose it would be a decent way to kill some time," Methos acquiesced. He drained the last of his beer and settled as comfortably as he could into his seat. "It was almost six centuries ago. I'd spent a few decades in China, and it was time to move on. I was traveling through Tibet, on my way to Katmandu, when I ran afoul of a traveler's worst nightmare, and my own accumulated bad karma...."