"Yikes!"

The panicked cry has Reese turning instantly away from the Numbers board. Dropping the photo of their latest project, he quickly sources the sound…the hallway into the library's main chamber. Finch's voice..! He moves swiftly toward the shout as Bear, waking fully alert from a nap, scrambles to follow, panting happily in anticipation of some long awaited action.

And yes, there is Finch - in the book-lined hallway, staring at the lowest shelf of one of the many stacks with one hand clutching a treasured first edition. His very posture is one of indignation personified, fairly vibrating with righteous anger.

"And what is that, Mr. Reese…?"

The reclusive geek doesn't take his eyes off the shelf, as though whatever object he is staring at will vanish without his continued scrutiny. And he definitely does not sound happy!

Reese stops behind his employer while Bear pushes against his leg in an effort to pass by. But the ex-op puts out his hand, emphasizing his command with a sharp "Blijf...!" and the dog stops moving, freezing in place. His attention is keenly on whatever object Finch has in focus as he cranes his neck around the tall man's knee for a better view.

"Something wrong, Finch"?

Reese studies his employer. The genius geek wore much the same expression as when he discovered their now re-homed mouser, Charlie, had placed a dead rat on the library's computer keyboard. Namely, a mixture of surprise, revulsion, and irritation. The perfect recipe for another lecture. Though on what subject this time Reese isn't yet sure.

Satisfied his boss is not injured or harmed, Reese drops his gaze to the shelf Finch finds so disgusting…and Bear finds so fascinating. He notes idly it's the same shelf that not long ago held his arms cache, a collection which had led to a confrontation with his boss when their youngest Number ever, had been found gumming a gas grenade.

That incident had triggered a series of lectures to the ex-op concerning the dangers of housing weapons in the library, the hazards of such a locality, and specific orders to find an alternate store site as soon as humanly possible.

Same shelf. It's obviously destined to haunt him…

Bear is fidgeting. Under command to stay, he won't move from his Alphas side, but evidently the lure of the object on that shelf is almost more than the animal can tolerate. Reese feels the dog lean against his leg, trembling with controlled drive while trying to stretch around for a better glimpse.

The ex-op studies the object that so holds his employers attention and tries to keep the smile out of his voice.

"It's a dog chew, Finch. A 'rawhide roll'..."

"Oh, really? Because it looks like something dead!" is the disgusted reply.

Finch turns to look at him with an expression new to the ex-op. His boss is really, truly annoyed. Even more so than he had been during the rat incident. That had been more a frightened Finch; this is an angry Finch.

"Well, it's been chewed on a bit. Okay, a lot…"

"It looks…slimy! And disgusting! And what's it doing there anyway?"

And with that question Finch turns to glare accusingly at Bear. The dog is straining to sit still, but picking up on the disapproval emanating from the smaller man, is obviously anxious to remove the offending item away from the vicinity of the humans. He in turn glances at his Alpha, at the rawhide chew, and back again at the Alpha.

"He's just hiding it, Finch. Burying his treasure among yours…" Reese explains patiently, and realizing that his boss really does have good reason to be upset, makes great effort not to laugh.

He's aware his benefactor prizes the huge collection of rarities stored here on the hallway book cases. And with good reason: the price of the first editions on one shelf alone would easily purchase a luxury condo in the heart of the city. He tries very hard to remain serious, stern… but watching Finch's indignation at finding a dog chew secreted away among these precious books is the most entertainment he's had in weeks.

With a final glare at both his employee and the dog, Finch harrumphs and limps back to the main room, leaving two to watch his retreating back. Reese sighs. He's sure he's not heard the end of this incident. The lecture is bound to start the minute he makes his way back to the main chamber. Unfortunately, Bear had already started out behind the eight ball with Finch by ripping up that first edition Asimov…and this latest episode is not going to help endear him to the reclusive billionaire.

"Vrij!" Finally given the release command, Bear jumps forward and quickly grabs the half-chewed rawhide roll.

"Bear!"

The dog had already started toward the library chamber but turns immediately and comes back to sit in front of his Alpha, the rawhide roll still clamped in his jaws.

The ex-op drops to one knee in front of the canine and makes eye contact as he gently scratches the dog's ear. "We're going to have to agree on some rules here. I understand the need to stash certain belongings, but you need to stay away from Harold's stuff…understood?"

Bear stares adoringly at his Alpha, listening attentively to that whispery voice and trying not to salivate around the rawhide as his tongue slides across the tasty roll. And no chewing. First rule of a retrieve. No chewing.

"All right then. Go find another hidey-hole. Just make sure Finch can't see it this time." Reese waves his hand for a dismissal. With another quick glance at his Alpha to assure himself that such action was acceptable, Bear turns and trots away, carrying the rawhide roll into the main chamber.

Reese hopes fervently that the chew will be hidden more carefully this time and out of sight of his fastidious boss. Or he, and Bear, were likely to have hear several lectures on the inappropriateness of locating their toy stash in the library.

Mmmm…

With that thought Reese starts to follow the dog. Given that Finch didn't like weapons much, he'd found an out-of-the-way location in the far corner of the library for his arms cache.

Perhaps a perfect place for Bear to hide his toys. Among those of his Alpha…

My dogs have taught me everything I know about them! In this story I've outlined a scenario that most dog owners will recognize: an alternative to burying a bone (or slimy rawhide chew roll) in the yard is to bury it indoors: in a potted plant, under the fridge, inside a dresser drawer, between the couch cushions...

And the most disturbing location of all, underneath the Queen of the House's pillow; which she doesn't discover until going to bed that evening and places her hands under said pillow.
(Screams could probably be heard in the next county…)