First of three

Title: THE FIRST OF THREE
Fandom: Criminal Minds mostly. Crossover with Kiss Kiss Bang Bang.
Parings: Morgan/Reid, Perry/Harry
Disclaimer: I don’t even own the dvd for Kiss Kiss Bang Bang or for Criminal Minds. So
No I don’t own anything that may be mention in this fic. Just to cover my ass, I will deny
ownership to anything but my own name.
Spoilers: Um go see Kiss Kiss Bang Bang and everything about the show Criminal Minds
before you read this fic if you so worried about spoilers.

To my luff on her 22end birthday, who is my Harry to my Perry and my Morgan to my
Reid.

Chapter one: Shall We Begin?

Another cold Virginia morning. Another rush to make the train. Then it would be another
day of typing reports, dealing with people that say that are your friends and family and
after this many years they are almost like family. But still they see poor weak little genius
Spencer Reid. And there was always a chance that somewhere in the Untied States, a
terrible murder or crime has been commented and the team would be call in to help the
local police force in capturing the unsub.

It’s a given that the Reid factor on most cases states that he would be kidnapped or
tortured or harmed in some way by the unsub. And it was also a given that he would
flaunt some statistic that would flow out pass his lips without much thought or come up
with some brilliant idea that would point out who was the unsub, how to find him or
where the victim is.

Don’t get him wrong, there was nothing else he would want to do more. But sometimes,
it does tend to get a tad boring to be doing the same thing over and over again. Even in a
job like his. Even Morgan’s teasing gets boring.

Whoo, I’m a geeky kid that cant shoot worth a damn and doesn’t know how to talk to
pretty women without talking about star trek or the formation of pick up lines.

Yeah, that does get boring after years of working with the former jock. Former right. He
was willing to bet that the big man still plays some kind of sport with a gang of men on
the weekends. Football was the best bet. Basketball maybe. At least tennis was out of the
question. Though it was laughable to imagine Derek Morgan, big and beefy, in a pair of
cotton shorts and white shirt with a visor to block the sun from his dark eyes.

“What’s so funny, Reid? Watching Star trek bloopers on you tube again?” A deep suave
voice jerked the lanky man out of his thoughts as it appeared right close to his ear. The
body heat of the other man announcing how close the man was.

He would never understood why Morgan was so insisted to invade his personal bubble
space. At any given time. It almost seems like he has to be so close that the two of them
was almost in the same shirt at the same time. It was worse after a close call on the
younger profiller’s part. He kept expecting him to throw him over his shoulder to carry
him around like a helpless sack of potatoes or even worse, bridal-style like some helpless
princess that suddenly forgotten how to walk.

“No. Just thinking that since ancient times that many stories involve a strong in the
physical sense as well strong in a character sense man in going after a woman that has
been either captured or cursed by an evil man and how it has created most of modern
man’s beliefs today still.”

When you want a jock, a former jock, into leaving you alone, say something smart-like
and make it long. He smirked inside his mind and watched the dark brows crinkled
together and one of them raised up as if to say ‘huh?’

“Okay now, anyway.” Morgan draw out, still confused on where that thought process
came from and in so early in the day. “Anyway, round table time, JJ got some thing for
us.”

Oh joy, it was to be one of those days. Again. Sometimes variety would be nice.

********************

She was bleeding, gasping for air like a fish out of water. How I would like to help her
but HE made it clear that I wasn’t allow to move from my little corner as HE hummed the
dwarf’s high ho song to HIMself as he curved into the soft tanned flesh, cutting out the
false parts of the girl’s body.

HE has said that women today had gone too far in the name of beauty and destroy the
image that was given to them naturally by God. And it was HIS given duty to undo the
process they had done to themselves and show them what a real woman should look like.

I was just the lure. A bait to entrap these poor women that HE has chosen to fix. I don’t
understand HIS methods or reasoning. I just think HE just wants to see blood flowing and
see what lies underneath the flesh.

The poor victim of the night had stopped screaming some time ago. Maybe has gone into
shock by now. HE wouldn’t let me see to her till after HE was done with HIS work. After
the one time that I managed to over power HIM and try to save the poor girl, HE made
me pay with a ‘fixing’ cut of my own. And no longer allow me any where near the work
table or the victim.

I fingered the deep grove of the scar on my nose and cheek and closed my eyes as the
words of the hum were now being sung.

HE was almost done for the night.

******

The consent drum roll of fingers tapping on a hardwood desk was nearly making him go
insane. The idiot clearly had nothing to do but tap out the theme song to Married.....With
Children on the desk that he had gracefully assigned to the big eyed moron to work at
while ‘assisting’ him. When the muttering words came to aid the tapping, Perry Von
Strike decided that it was time for a dry cleaners and food run.

He was in the mood for sushi. The kind that came from the other side of town from the
dry cleaners. His full pouting lips curled up at one end into a smirk and called out, “Oh
Harry, I need you to do some things for me.”

The idiot practically gave him a high eyebrow look that spoke ‘Oh really?’, clearly that
was spoke in a rude matter and since the idiot was only employed because he knew no
one else would hire him, other then a fast food restaurant and even then he didn’t put it
past him to burn the place down to ground on his second day. And it was out from the
bottom of his clearly generous heart, the moron needs to be taught that it was rude to be
snarky to the hands that feeds him.

“And you can’t take the car. I need it in about an hour for meeting. You can use the little
smart car.” He grinned knowing that Harry hated driving around in a car that he had said
that not even a clown would drive. It was that or the bicycle and he didn’t feel like eating
dirt covered sushi...again when the moron would drop it while trying to pedal and
covering a suit and box at the same time.

Though it was funny that one time. Like seeing a circus monkey perform without the cost
of admission or the smell of dirty hay.

Harry went into a rant that it was unfair for him to be driving around in a yellow toy car
running errands and didn’t he gotten him sushi just the other day. And he was feeling
homesick for good Brooklyn style pizza, a slice big enough to need both hands to hold on
to but greasy enough to fill the gas tank of the smart car.

Like always, he ignored this and told him to shoo and went back to work. The idiot was
grumbling about slave labor laws and how the North won and bought the end to slavery
as he worked out of the office, dangling the keys to the yellow car with the hello kitty
dressed in a bee costume key chain hanging from the ring.

That was purely for his enjoyment, to see the over forty-year man carrying around a
child’s toy.

Chuckling at his deed and now basking the quiet and peacefulness in the office. That had
reminded him of days in the Pre-Harry Era. How he missed those days.

A phone ringing at the elbow caused him to sigh and rolling his eyes, hoping the idiot
didn’t forget how to get to the needed places. He goes out there so many times that they
were getting the ‘Harry and Perry’ discounts. He picked up the slick black phone and held
it against his ear, “Yes?” in a bored manner, waiting for the moron to ask him the
pressing question of does he turn left or right?

“Umm, Mr. Von Strike?” Oh a client. Must forget about idiot and be a sleek and smooth
detective of L.A.

“Yes, this is he? How may I be some service to you?” He grabbed a pen and his memo
pad and waited for the rather old but sweet sounding woman on the other end to begin her
tale of woe.

“I need to know if you can help me..” The voice was breaking, holding back sobs. “It’s
my Lindsey, she has been missing for days.” Of course she was. “And the police say that
she must of ran away or something like that but I know in my heart that some one has
taken her and a friend of mine says you were the best.”

He nodded to no one, as he wrote down the name ‘Lindsey.” on the crisp clean white
paper. “With a fee, I can help you out, Ma’am. and I am the best and be able to find your
daughter.”

Then the woman on the other end of the line went into detail of her daughter last known
activity and whereabouts, along with her credit card company’s name and numbers for
filing and accounting purposes. Naturally. After a good few minutes, he hanged up after
they both agree to a meet and greet at his office, tomorrow at three-thirty pm. He may
need to call Velma to change his nail and eyebrow waxing to one pm in order to be back
in the office in time and kicked the moron out before he scares the client.

Aw the days as Perry Von Strike, Private detective and apparently keeper of morons
named Harry Lockhart, so stressful and long. No wonder he needed that nail appointment.
Chewing on them has made them looking ragged. He blamed the idiot. He never chewed
his nails before meeting him that fateful Christmas.