I can't seem to let this one go! Urged to write an Epilogue, I succumbed to the writers lure - but in the process needed to move the last few paragraphs in Chapter 6 into this section, so you've read those paragraphs before.

Mea Culpa…but otherwise it wouldn't have made any sense, timing-wise!

Epilogue

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"Harold, you're going to have to let me handle this," Reese urges quietly. "This vet will take good care of him. He takes care of several K9 dogs."

Finch follows his employee down the hall to the examining area, all but twitching in his nervousness.

"But I don't know these people; I've not had time to really do a decent back ground check on this emergency clinic!" he whispers fretfully as a vet tech ushers the trio into a small room. "He looks rather young, don't you think?"

"Read the diploma on the wall, Finch," says Reese as he carefully places the injured dog on the metal table and gently removes the suit jacket that had served as a make-shift bandage during their ten block trip. "At that university even the "C" students are considered top notch in their field."

"We should have taken him to our regular vet, Mr. Reese!"

Keeping one hand on Bear, the ex-op places the other on his boss' shoulder. "You called and our vet is on vacation, remember? Bear would have been turned over to a stranger anyway. And that other facility is a good half hour drive from here."

"I know…but…."

"He'll be fine, Harold," he responds, reiterating the assurance for at least the eighth time since leaving the thugs apartment building. Obviously Harold is very worried. And that worries him.

.

….

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Well, now. This is really nice…all these humans paying so much attention to him! Glasses Man had given him five treats already and Alpha was never far away, stroking his head, scratching his ears…

He doesn't remember what he did to deserve all this but whatever it was, Good Dog to him! He truly loves these rewards.

Of course this visit to an arid smelly room with the metal table is not so pleasant, invoking memories of past visits to similar rooms. It's causing him some anxiety. But Alpha is here and has his hands on him while White Coat fusses over the shoulder hurt.

Leader is having an argument with White Coat now; he can tell from the human's expression that whatever it is White Coat wants, Alpha is not agreeing to it. That is good. What the Alpha wants, then that is what should happen. And if White Coat makes even the slightest aggressive move toward Leader, then he will make a hurt in that human's shoulder!

.

…

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"Mr. Reese…?" Finch starts plaintively, placing a timid hand on his employees arm. They had been introduced to the veterinarian not but a few minutes earlier. Finch was indeed impressed by the man's professionalism, though right now there seemed to be a standoff between the vet and the ex-op.

"I'll say this just once more: this is a very valuable, well trained military dog, not some apartment pet. You will do the stitching, not one of your employees. You will also use a local on him, not a general anesthetic…and no muzzle. And both of us remain here in this room with him while you fix that cut."

"Mr. Reese…?" Finch hisses in a low whisper, tugging this time. "Remember what you told me once? Be nice to servers…or they may spit on your food!"

Reese ignores the admonishment. If it will relieve Harold's anxiety to stay with Bear during this medical treatment, then that's what's going to happen. Rules are not writ in stone…as far as he's concerned anyway.

"And if that's not going to work for you Doc, then we'll simply take him elsewhere and your clinic's name will be circulated to all the K9 units in this city as being "uncooperative"! Your choice…!"

The vet blanches but nods and Finch is quite sure that it's not the ex-op's words that are making the impression, but rather the cold, CIA killer persona that has emerged. Given that circumstance, he admires the vet's courage in making demands of his own.

"I'll agree to your 'request'", the vet responds, with sarcastic emphasis on the last word, "but, Mr. Anderson, understand this: you will be held liable should this animal cause me - or my tech – any injury!"

"Agreed", Reese replies. "But you don't need your tech in here…I'll hold the dog."

The vet nods, and with yet another uneasy glance at Bear, proceeds to fill the syringe with Lydocaine. As Reese watches closely, seemingly quite familiar with the required dosage, Finch wonders again at the man's experiences.

But perhaps ignorance is bliss when it comes to the ex-op's less savory past activities.

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…

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Ouch! That stings! He tries to turn his head to warn White Coat, but Leader has a firm hold on his neck now, preventing him from moving.

All right, Alpha. But you need to take care of that human if he hurts me again! He licks the tall mans wrist for emphasis. He glances at Glasses Man, standing to the side with a decidedly sick expression. Ah. Glasses Man doesn't like hurts. It's the same expression as when the smaller man took care of his cheek hurt, the one the Cat caused! If he ever sees that Cat again….!

Alpha is stroking him now and he butts his head into the tall man's chest. The small tugs on his shoulder are barely noticeable, merely little irritations that are far outweighed by the pleasure in being close like this with his Pack Leader, feeling secure and valued.

.

…

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"All done. One of the techs will give you a sheet of instructions on how to care for this wound at home," the vet says, stripping the gloves off his hands and tossing them in the bin nearby. "And just so you know: I don't appreciate your high-handedness here. But…," he looks at Bear with a professional eye. "I have to admit, that is one fine animal. If you ever want to sell him, let me know."

"He's family. He stays with us till the end."

Reese gently lifts the dog from the table, holding him close until satisfied Bear is standing firm on all paws. Then giving the leash to his boss, he starts to follow the pair but at the door pauses, then turns.

"And doc? Thanks…"

The vet simply nods, following the odd trio to the entrance: a mousey professor with a limp, what looks like a professional hit man...and a magnificent looking dog. He watches them out the door, shaking his head.

It takes all kinds. He can do without the odd couple…but he does like that dog!

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...

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Several months later…

The city clerk is delighted to find this week's hard copy information already input into the court data base, especially since that special discount coupon to Bloomingdales showed up in her personal account this morning. And it's close to lunch time...!

She does notice however, that her paper copy doesn't quite match the current digitized version; all is the same but for a couple of discrepancies: her form indicates the defendant convicted of burglary, assaulting a NYPD officer, stabbing a dog and given a "3 year sentence; parole eligibility in 18 months".

However, the online data complete with digital sigs indicates it was burglary, an assault on an officer and a stabbing of a child. The defendant is sentenced to forty years.

Must be a mistake on the form, and it wouldn't be the first time! And it's probably not a stabbing of a "dog" but more likely a "boy". Yes, that would make more sense and would reconcile the digital data. Besides, it's now time for lunch...

She makes a decision, signs off her city account as she prints out the coupon, slipping the file with the obviously erroneous hard copy forms into the shredder.

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...

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And as the clerk leaves the building, the Machine locks the digital file on this perpetrator and moves it to Archives. Justice has been served...the case is now officially closed. And Admin will be safe from this human.

The end…really…!