Part 7: "Everyone must follow their own path. Heal yourself, good physician monk; then you will naturally heal others." -- Milarepa Tsong Khapa shook his head. "I do not see you as a monk -- neither do you. However, I do see your potential to help others. Bhaishajya showed you the way." The monk's smile deepened. "You have taken lives -- more than you can count. Now, it is time for you to save lives." That possibility eagerly sank into Methos' brain. "I have learned something of healing over the years," he slowing pondered aloud. "Perhaps it *is* time I sought out more knowledge, more experience." He smirked uncomfortably. "Maybe I should listen to my dreams more often." Chuckling, the monk agreed. "Indeed, you should. For now, finish your meal, rest, and heal yourself. When you are ready, the world will still lie outside, beyond the entrance to my cave. When you are ready, you can do as Shantideva urged -- 'By the virtue amassed by all that I have done, May the pain of every being be completely healed. May I be doctor and medicine, and may I be nurse For all sick beings in the world, until all are well'." Noting a lamp on the altar was sputtering down to its last drops of fuel, Tsong Khapa pushed up to his feet and bowed before the altar. He reverently blew out the flame, then poured in more fuel from a small bronze urn. "A light may burn purer than the rest, or it may simply burn longer. So it sometimes is with sentient beings. The Blessed One said that 'Even a single day of life lived virtuously and meditatively is worth more than a hundred years lived wantonly and without discipline.' I suspect you have already lived far longer than that, my friend. Now, it is time for you to live *well*." Methos nodded in understanding, then resumed his meal with renewed gusto. Kronos was no longer buried underground in his desert prison; there was no reason for Methos to remain a slave to his own memories or regrets. He wasn't sure why, but the idea of becoming a doctor, rather than a dabbler, pleased him for reasons other than those Tsong Khapa suggested. It felt, somehow, natural, somehow -- right. Perhaps in a previous life he had been a healer, as well as a murderer. It was a strangely comforting thought. He would sort it all out later -- *much* later. For now, he was safe, he was content, and he had direction -- something his life had lacked for so very long. *************************************** Richie stared silently at the elder Immortal. "So, what happened?" he finally urged. "You already know I became a doctor and not a monk." "Duh. But, how long did you stay there in Tibet? Did you take him up on his offer to try and clean up some of your karma?" Methos sighed quietly, then downed the last sip of his beer. "I remained with Tsong Khapa for several weeks. During that time I meditated, recited, prostrated, cleared my mind of ghosts which had been haunting me for centuries, and longer. I left behind the Horsemen in that cave, and never thought of them again -- until Cassandra came back into my life." He paused in reflection, then continued. "He taught me what he knew about the medicinal properties of the local herbs, and urged me to always keep Bhaishajya as my personal protector." "I guess you forgot that part pretty quickly." With a loud sniff, Methos admitted, "Yeah, I suppose I did." "Even when you went back to Tibet -- when you stayed at Mkha Ohg-la?" "I could have, but Chenrezig was always the focus of their practice. I was always surrounded by *their* practice of compassion -- I suppose I felt that was sufficient. At any rate, I made my way to Enkidu's monastery of the decade and visited with him for a few weeks, before enrolling in medical school. The rest, as they say, is history." Richie nodded slowly, his lips pursed in thought. "You know, your father woulda been real proud of you. I mean Enoch. He always wanted you to be a doctor, right?" The smirk returned to its natural home. "As cliché as that sounds, I suppose you're absolutely right." He sniffed back a flood of memories, the good as well as the devastating. Unbuckling his seatbelt, he pushed up and into the aisle. "I need to check on my patient. I'll be back shortly." The younger Immortal silently watched Methos thread his way up the cramped walkway. He shook his head at the utter incongruity of the world's eldest man. Sinner, saint, and everything in between. How could anyone ever hope to understand everything Methos had experienced? "Not me," Richie mumbled, raising his beer in salute before downing the remains. ---------------- "You're looking much better." Methos smiled at his patient, as he checked her color and pulse. "How do you feel?" "Much better, thanks to you." Palek shyly smiled at her savior and blushed slightly. "Yes, your color *does* seem to have improved greatly," Methos gently teased, with a smirk. With an embarrassed laugh, Palek pulled her hand from Methos' and began unwinding the lapis lazuli mala from her left wrist. "I can never thank you enough, but I want you to have this." She gingerly grasped Methos' right hand, held it palm up, and allowed the string of beads to fall into his hand before cupping her hands around his. "My grandmother gave it to me. It was the only possession she took with her, when she fled Tibet after the Chinese invaded. My grandfather was a border guard in India -- that's how they met." She smiled slightly, then her eyes took on fathomless sadness. "It belonged to her uncle, a monk at Ganden. It was a gift to him from His Holiness, the great thirteenth." Methos was visibly moved by the preciousness of the intended gift. "I can't possibly accept this. It belongs to your family." He turned their hands over and attempted to pour the mala back into her hands. "You really should give it to your children, someday." Palek was insistent. "Please, I must repay you for helping me." The knowing smile on Methos' lips was uncharacteristically genuine. "You already have," he quietly affirmed. He waited until she grudgingly relented, then slipped the mala back into her grasp. "As someone very wise once told me, 'May I be doctor and medicine, and may I be nurse for all sick beings in the world'." "I've heard that verse before." "And I'm sure you will hear it, again -- so long as there is misery, and wise men, in the world." With the briefest hint of a smirk, he pressed his hands together and bowed respectfully to the young woman, before turning back toward the coach section. The End ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "For as long as space remains, and for as long as the world remains, May I, too, remain, dispelling the miseries of the world." -- Shantideva ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~