Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, I just play with 'em and hand 'em back, none the worse for wear.

Author's Notes: A wealth of thanks go to Lady Ivy and ultra_chrome for beta help (and plot-point assistance, and character motivation resolution, and a wealth of other desperately needed assistance) FAR above and beyond the call of duty. And this chapter is dedicated to Randi, who likes this novel anough to keep asking for more. This one's for you, m'dear.

Story Notes: Highlander/due South crossover, with a cameo here and there from Hellboy, Airwolf, and a few other cameos the sharp-eyed might spot.

SequelTo: Geometry: Chapter 18, Revelations

It was close to midnight when Marina woke from her drowse; Methos' warm familiar comfort and the soothing lilt of his whispered tale had lulled her into an exhausted sleep. Dief was still sprawled out by her side, his head resting in the hollow of her hip. She reached out and stroked his forehead, loving the feel of the fine slick fur there. All his thick downy underfur had shed out over the previous two months -a great deal of it on her bedspread and couches- and the slick rain-shedding overcoat left lacked the velvet softness of his pale underfur.

A satisfied sleepy growl rose up from Dief's throat as his mouth opened in a huge yawn, baring inch and a half fangs, but his jaws closed around Mina's wrist with an exquisitely gentle grip and tugged it around so she could scratch his chest. The wolf rumbled in pleasure at her caress, luxuriating in the scratching as her fingers found the dry itchy spot under the fur. Had sleep quieted his lovemate's restlessness, Dief asked, his mind-voice drifting across her drowsy awareness.

"Not really," she sighed, but eased out from under Methos' arm and curled up against Dief's shaggy back, rubbing her cheek against his broad shoulder. "But at least I can think halfway straight." God, she loved this wolf; just the sound of Dief's deep tones thrumming in her mind was infinitely comforting.

Dief twisted around and nuzzled her chin. What troubled her, lovemate?

"I just hurt, beloved," she admitted. "Ben and Ray... ever since they saw me awaken..." she struggled to describe her unease. "Ray won't touch me, Ben keeps calling me Doctor MacLeod, it's like we're strangers again. We were making love last night, and now they don't even want to look at me."

Dief growled faintly in disapproval, the fur along his hackles rising. They were being foolish. Moving as one, not pulling away from each other, forged the strength of the pack. They feared that she wished to return to her old pack -to the Oldest One, to her clan kin- and would not hold her against her will. So they were pushing her away before she could turn and savage them. Stupid humans, their hearts knew better but their minds were not listening. She was his, and she was pack, and nothing else mattered.

That made Marina want to cry but she'd done more than enough of that today, the thought of more tears just made her tired. Perhaps she finally cried herself out. "I love you, Diefenbaker," she murmured, and the wolf rose to his feet and nudged her head back, disconcertingly intelligent understanding mirrored in his pale eyes. Dying and awakening had erased the bruises from her neck, but this time when Dief gripped her throat in his teeth he just held her pinned against the mattress, a silent affirmation of their bond.

"Possessive," she teased, burying her hands in his ruff and marveling at how safe, how loved she felt sprawled on her back with the jaws of a dangerous predator clamped around her throat. Welcome to her life, Weirdity-R-Us.

"You're talking to him, aren't you?" Methos' question was obviously rhetorical, but he was watching them, head propped up on one arm. Bare-chested and with dark hair rumpled from sleep and falling over his forehead, he was hardly the picture of a five thousand year old Immortal. He looked more like the graduate student he perpetually masqueraded as instead.

Dief released her throat, licked her face affectionately and settled down between them. Mina rolled onto her side and draped herself over the wolf's bulk gladly, resting her chin on Dief's back.

"Yes."

Methos cocked his head and pushed the rumpled black locks out of his eyes with a careless hand. "How do you hear him? Do you hear words or just concepts?"

"Mostly words, although he's placed images in my mind several times," she replied, threading her fingers through his ruff again. "Dief speaks several languages, so he's used to articulating in human fashion."

Methos blinked. "He's multilingual?" He hadn't been expecting that little detail.

She nodded. "He can lip-read in English and French, and he's picked up a little Italian and German since he's lived in Chicago."

Dief rumbled a reminder and Marina added, "And he speaks several Inuit and First Nations dialects from growing up in the Northern Territories."

Methos absorbed that, clearly startled. "I've never encountered that before."

That startled Marina in turn. Rather a lot, in fact. She wasn't used to there being anything Methos hadn't seen before. "Really?"

"No." Methos lolled back against the pillows, folding his hands behind his head as he stared thoughtfully up at the ceiling, thinking over what it might mean. "Of course the last time I saw a soul-bond like this, multilingualism was almost unheard of. Most tribes never encountered more than regional variations on a common dialect."

"A soul-bond? Is that what it's called?" Marina and Dief exchanged a curious glance. "Can you tell us more?"

Methos shrugged carelessly, his bare shoulders glowing pale in the dim illumination cast by the few candles still alight. "There's not a lot more to tell. This kind of bond was rare when I was young. You two are probably only the fifth or sixth time I've seen it. Even four thousand years ago, tribes were already inbreeding different species of dogs as opposed to adopting wild wolf pups. Domestication broke the lifetime pair-bond that seems to be necessary to the soul bond you two have."

Methos studied Diefenbaker with an assessing stare, eyes narrowed as he absorbed Dief's appearance close-up. "I'd bet he's more than half-wolf, honestly. I think if you could check his breeding, you'd find he was three-quarters wolf, at least. He's got too much wolf in him to be half-dog."

Dief huffed a laugh and growled approval. The Oldest One deserved his name; he was wise in more than the ways of humans.

Marina relayed this and Methos laughed too, amused. "You're welcome," he said ironically, inclining his head in acknowledgement of the compliment. "You might be interested to know the bond's not gender-dependent either," he added as an afterthought.

Marina shook her head, puzzled. "I don't understand."

"I've seen a male human bond to a female wolf too," Methos explained. "Gender isn't a determining factor."

"Is there anything else you can remember?" she asked.

Methos thought it over before shaking his head regretfully. "Not really. I'm kind of surprised I even remember this much," Methos admitted. "My memories of the centuries before Kronos... are blurred, indistinct. We didn't really understand the passage of time then." He looked away and Marina reached out and took his hand, lacing her fingers through his, knowing even now the memories of his life as one of the Four Horsemen tormented her lover.

Desirous of shifting the focus of the conversation, Methos posed a question of his own. "How can you speak to him?"

Marina turned their joined hands over to expose her inner wrist. "A mission with the B.P.R.D. If there was a crescent moon tonight, you could see the scar. It glows only in the moonlight when the moon is in the same phase as it was when we got them."

"We?" Methos asked, his eyebrow lifting.

Marina nodded. "Hellboy and I each have one. Ever since that mission, we can both speak to a few kinds of animals, ones with close to human-level intelligence. Whales, dolphins, the occasional cat... and Diefenbaker."

Methos shook his head. "And I thought being an Immortal was weird. It's got nothing on being a Bureau agent, does it?"

She chuckled and her fingers tightened on his. "No. It doesn't. Sometime when we have a whole night to spare, remind me to tell you about the time Hellboy, Abe and I spent the night standing on top of the dome of Saint Peter's Cathedral defending the Vatican from an attack by Heaven's warrior angels."

Laughter exploded out of Methos, merriment dancing in his eyes. "That's a tale I'd like to hear."

"Even you'd think that one's worth hearing." She lifted their hands to her face, brushing the back of Methos' knuckles against her cheek. "The Bureau is my family as much as you, Duncan and Connor are. Sometimes I think I don't remember that enough... that lives as long as ours aren't limited to our kind."

"You've never come to terms with it." Worry shadowed Methos' features, darkened and underlined by the flickering candlelight. "With watching everyone you love age and die, while you never change."

Marina shrugged, uneasy as always with this line of conversation. "I've avoided it, I admit. Knowing how crushing the weight of losing Heather still is to Connor, four and a half centuries later; and watching Tessa's death tear Duncan apart... it scares me, Methos. It scares me to death. I don't know that I'm strong enough to survive that... some Immortals aren't. And hell, I'm barely a century old, when you get right down to it, I'm still a baby to our kind."

Methos nodded, acknowledging the truth of her statement. "At least you don't have to worry about that with Ray and Fraser."

She frowned at him. "Because they're cops, they're more likely to die on the job than of old age? That's not much of an improvement, love. I'll still lose them."

His brows drew together. "What are you talking about...?" Methos jerked to a halt and his stomach lurched as he grasped what Marina meant. Icy horror shocked down his spine and spread out to his limbs, freezing them into immobility.

"I forget how young you are," Methos said hollowly, his mind reeling from the unexpected shock. "I do. I shouldn't. I know better."

This was the missing piece, Methos thought sickly, this was the odd incongruity that had been niggling away at him ever since he first saw Marina, Ray and Fraser interacting. His beloved fledgling, already heartbroken and struggling to bear the burden with Immortal stoicism- this unwelcome knowledge was going to kill Mina. Might very well break her. This was worse than a disaster- this was tragedy on an apocalyptic scale. And tragedy like this had driven many a millennia-old Immortal into a duel that was nothing but suicide by blade. Ironic that even to Immortals suicide was pathetically easy; just challenge someone to a duel- and don't try to win. The Game took care of the rest.

"Methos, what's wrong?" Mina said sharply, sitting up and fixing him with a penetrating stare. What was going on in that head of his, she wondered, that could put such an expression of worn, weary, ages-old misery on his face?

Methos rubbed his hands over his face, hating, hating what he was about to have to do. "Mina," he asked tiredly, "have you ever encountered an unawakened Immortal before?"

"Of course," she answered impatiently. "I lived with Richie, remember?"

"Was he the only one?"

She shrugged. "Yes, actually. I don't seem to have the affinity for finding young ones the way Duncan does."

"I never thought..." Methos' fists thumped against the bed and his fingers clenched in the sheets, wrinkling the bunched-up cotton as his anger flared. How could he have failed so badly? He'd spent months researching the limits of her Immortal senses. Run batteries of tests, correlated information, compared the results to baseline studies of Duncan, himself, and Watcher records of other Immortals, both alive and dead; graphed charts, made extrapolations- how in the name of all that was holy had he missed such a huge, crucial piece of information? How? And now his monumental shortsightedness was going to reach out and savage Marina in the place she was most vulnerable.

"As overdeveloped as some of your Immortal senses are, it never occurred to me some could be similarly deficient," Methos ground out, furious beyond belief with himself. Raging internally at his colossal oversight. "How could I have made a mistake like that? How could I have missed that?"

"Methos!" Marina's voice cracked like a whip, jerking him out of the rising tide of self-recrimination. "What's wrong?"

"What did Richie feel like to you, Mina? Before he Quickened?"

Caught off guard by the question, Marina stopped and thought about it before answering, remembering the tousle-headed blond who had been a kid brother to her practically from the moment they met. "He felt like... Richie, I don't know, I kind of felt drawn to him somehow, like I sensed we were the same even before Duncan told me what he was. He made me promise not to tell Richie, of course, Duncan was afraid of what the premature knowledge would do to him. But he felt... familiar. I was drawn to him, even before I knew why. Kind of like the way I felt when I met Ray and Fraser..."

Her voice broke off abruptly as understanding stole her breath, her chest fighting for oxygen that refused to enter her paralyzed lungs. "Oh, no," she wheezed, unable even to drag in sufficient air to speak properly. "No, please, Methos, tell me it's not..."

But when her gaze snapped up to meet Methos, the wretched pity in his eyes was all the confirmation she needed. "Oh god, no." An animal's wordless cry of pain ripped its way out of her chest. Her hands, buried deep in Dief's fur, started to shake.

Diefenbaker sat up, a low growl rumbling in the back of his throat. What troubled her? What threatened the pack?

"They're Immortals... like us," Marina choked out, one arm tightening around Dief's neck as she clung to him for dear life. She was so cold suddenly, cold with shock and cold with dread and icy-cold with fear. Fear for them- ignorant of their sleeping heritage and defenseless against an attack from rogue Watchers or worse, an evil Immortal.

"Ray. Fraser," she whispered, staring horror-stricken at Methos. "That's what drew them to each other. That's what drew them to me, even though they didn't know it. Two unawakened Immortals, and I didn't feel it at all... and now I've landed them right in the middle of the Watcher War. Merciful God in Heaven, Methos, what have I done?"

The Immortal just shook his head, there was no comfort to offer, no answer to give. His heart ached looking at Mina, ghost-white and stricken, clinging to the wolf whose hackles were bristling and a low, menacing growl rumbling deep in his chest.

Methos knew there was no choice now. None at all. As unawakened Immortals, Ray and Fraser's only chance to escape becoming the Hunters' prey was for no one to know. Salah must have realized, and simply assumed they knew. He would never mention it, of course; the rule against premature revelation of an Immortal was nearly as strong as the stricture about violating holy ground. So he knew, Mina knew, and Salah knew. Perhaps, just perhaps, they could keep this a secret long enough to get Ray and Fraser out of the line of fire. But it would have to be done quickly. It had to be done now.

Dief growled louder, the fur over his hackles bristling higher as he felt Marina's rising despair, Methos' grim resignation. What threatened his pack, he snarled angrily. They would tell him, and they would tell him now.

Methos said it straight out, looking right at the wolf so there was no mistake. He didn't need to speak wolf to know what Diefenbaker had asked.

"Ray and Fraser are Immortals, Diefenbaker. But until they die the first time, they won't know. And right now they're horribly vulnerable. By our tradition, no Immortal will interfere with them until their first Quickening. Only the most evil of our kind dare that, like the Kurgan, and it turns against them every time. Few are even mad enough to try. But the Hunters would kill them and take their heads before they ever awoke the first time."

Dief's ears snapped back in surprise as he absorbed the information, nuzzling Marina's cheek reassuringly. The wolf settled back, his hackles smoothing out as his head cocked thoughtfully. His pack mates were Old Ones? Why did he not smell the endless turning of the seasons in their blood the way he smelled it on his lovemate? On the Oldest One?

Marina relayed the question and Methos' brows rose.

"You can smell the Immortal taint in us?"

Again, Dief's snort and disdainful ear-flick required no translation.

"Sorry," Methos said wryly, amused. "As I said, until their first death, until the Quickening, the Immortal in them lies dormant. I imagine that's why you can't smell it. That's just a guess, I don't know for certain. It would be an interesting line of research."

Methos shrugged, running his hands through his hair, combing it out of his face; forcing away the dregs of sleep and the residual horror so he could think clearly. "But there's no time now. We've got to get the Hunters out of Chicago. As fast as we can."

"How?" Marina said bravely, raising her head. "We have to protect Ray and Fraser. Without them finding out what they are." Her personal agony was going to have to wait. A lifetime's worth of experience as an agent let her bury the pain deep down. What was required now was calm, decisive action. They needed a plan.

Surprising both Methos and Marina considerably, it was Diefenbaker who offered one.

The Mad Ones were vulnerable now, the wolf pointed out. Their pack -with the help of the street curs' pack- had killed most of their hunting party. The Mad Ones were weak now, off balance and vulnerable. They must not allow them time to regroup.

"He's got a point," Methos agreed, curious what the wolf had in mind. "Go on, Diefenbaker."

Dief huffed his approval at Methos' ready acceptance. They needed to lure the last of the Mad Ones here in Ray's city out and let their pack mates capture them. But most importantly, they needed to lure out the Mad Ones' alpha, and kill him.

"It's a good plan," Methos admitted, leaning back against the headboard and thinking it over after Mina patiently translated. "But how do we lure them out?"

Offer them the prey they sought; Dief rumbled impatiently, his ears flicking back in annoyance. They would break from cover and attack; it was their nature.

Marina didn't bother to translate that any way but literally even though Dief's answer had shades of meaning far beyond the straightforward words; she was too busy thinking. "Do the Hunters still have access to the Watcher database?"

"Yes," Methos said grimly. "The Council is sure there's a leak, but we don't know who it is. It might be a Council member. Horton's plot ran very deep in the Watchers' Guild."

She nodded. That fitted. "So if we plant a Chicago sighting on the Watcher database, they'll go for it?"

Methos' lips thinned in visible dislike of the idea but he nodded in reluctant agreement. "Almost certainly."

"Can you plant a fake sighting?" Mina pressed.

"Why not use a real one?" Methos said unexpectedly, sitting up with a jerk as his expression changed -startlingly quickly- going intent, devious. Cunning.

Marina's gaze sharpened. She knew that look. She'd seen it before.

"The Hunters aren't stupid enough to try and assault an Immortal's citadel, they know it'll be booby-trapped. Especially yours. You were an intelligence operative for fifty years, Mina; your Watcher file says so. They'd never try for you here... but we do have the perfect bait," Methos practically purred, his voice dropping. "Salah."

"Saladin?" Mina's brows drew together when she didn't follow and she waited for an explanation.

"Salah's in police custody, a ghra," Methos explained, seeing the plan take shape in his mind's eye. "Not even federal custody, Chicago local police custody, and to the Hunters, that means he's vulnerable. We post a report on the Watcher database about Saladin's location, and when the Hunters attack..."

"We spring the trap." She nodded thoughtfully. "Risky, but it could work. But should we be putting Salah in danger without at least warning him first?"

Methos snorted. "You don't know Salah," he disagreed. "I do. He was my liegeman for three centuries. He'd let himself be dragged naked over ten miles of broken glass for a chance to avenge Mitch's death."

Marina shrugged her lack of an answer to that assertion. "Unfortunately, we don't know where Salah is right now," she pointed out. "He's probably in a safe house at this point. I doubt they'd have kept him at the precinct building. Too hard to secure."

"I know where Salah is," Methos disagreed, shoving the covers aside and reaching for his cell phone on the bedside table while taking Mina's hand with the other. "Or rather, I will."

Marina didn't bother to argue. Methos hadn't been the mastermind behind the Four Horseman for a thousand years by being stupid. "How?" she asked, sliding out of bed and letting Methos tug her down the hallway into her den. Diefenbaker leaped off the bed and padded along the hall beside her, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor.

"Cody Allenby is your Watcher." Methos slid into her desk chair and his eyes glinted at her as he booted up her computer. "But you knew that."

"Of course I did," she said dryly. "I just didn't want to get Cody into trouble by mentioning it to Joe. If you Watchers want your agents to pass unnoticed, you ought to stop tattooing a big frigging signal flare on their wrists."

Methos grinned. Wrapping a hand around Marina's neck, he pulled her head down and kissed her, warm lips, strong mouth and his familiar taste so very dear.

It soothed Mina, briefly unwound the brittle constriction in her chest that kept pulling chokingly tight. Despair caused by the knowledge that she was going to have to leave Ben and Ray -and her beloved Diefenbaker- kept closing her throat but she pushed it away mercilessly. This was a combat situation. No time for sentiment. No time for weakness. Not if she wanted her lovers, her mate, her mentor -and the very strangest of all- her new knight to live.

Methos kissed her again, hard and quick, understanding all too well the emotions Marina was ruthlessly locking away, and explained. "Allenby was following you to Salah but couldn't stay in the projects. He almost got carjacked trying. But he would have come back to the wharf and waited for your return. When Salah, you and I returned together, he would have kept us all under surveillance, but..."

"I get it," Mina interrupted. "If you were here to watch over me, Cody would have followed Salah when Ray and Fraser took him to the precinct. Could he have followed Salah to the safe house?"

"Of course. Watchers are experts in surveillance, my darling. After all, we've been at it for thousands of years." Methos winked at her and dialed Allenby's number. "Have faith."

Mina twined her arms around his neck and leaned close, close enough to hear Cody answering on the other end. Cody Allenby- Theresa's boyfriend, her student... her Watcher. "My faith's in pretty short supply right now, Methos," she whispered against his cheek, "but I still believe in you."