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Everyone having sex is at least 18. This story is a work of fiction. I made it all up. Check reality at the door and enjoy it for what it is. Special thanks to goducks111 for his help and making this a better story.

Chapter 1 ? Finding Anastasia

Like most nights for the last two years, I am on the streets of a large city, looking through another dark alley. I work in a motel room during the day as a programmer/consultant. I work online, which allows me to be anywhere. That suits my needs perfectly. Typically, NASA has me working on projects, often reviewing research and new designs.

It's dark, cold, and windy, what a surprise for downtown Chicago. I am wearing a long, dark black, wool trench coat with mittens and a stocking cap. I am fueled by the hope that I can fix the mistake my parents made ten long years ago when my misunderstood sister was ejected from our home on her 18th birthday. I was fourteen at the time, a child genius, my parents were proud of me. I was going to make them lots of money.

My parents are labeled as a genius too, but they have had a much harder time dealing with life. They couldn't make the transition from brilliant to successful. I have had no such problems. It's been easy for me to cope and adapt with children and adults as I grew up. For my parents, I was their meal ticket to easy street. That didn't work out. They miscalculated my love for my sister. She was the one person in the world that could intellectually challenge me. That made her unique, which is a huge thing with me.

Imagine growing up, and you know all the answers to any question they ask. No joke is funny, you know the punchline as they ask the question. There are very few surprises in life. It's boring. Unless you have an older sister that asks questions that challenge your morals, values, and intellect. She made me decide what was necessary, right and wrong and made me think about theory rather than just facts. She taught me to think three dimensionally. No, not as in three-dimensional items, it's a term we developed to describe how we approach problem-solving. I use it every day.

My sister is far smarter than me. However, she was mentally unstable and never reached her potential. My parents never saw her potential, they just wanted a quick payday. They didn't want to be bothered with her. She had a trust fund from the grandparents that she tapped into every so often, that's how I know what city she was in. I had written several phone apps and made boatloads of money, more than I will ever need in two lifetimes. I have the resources to go out searching the streets for my sister now that I am twenty-four, much to the disappointment of my parents that wanted to sell my abilities to the highest bidder.

I am a geeky kid and had few friends in school. I was a loner, kids never understood me. Other kids were so far behind me we had nothing in common. Annie, she was impressive. However, as she aged, she started acting irrational and seemed unstable. She could be violent if provoked.

While lost in thought remembering these details, I run into a phone pole. Ouch! I notice several bums in an alley pushing a woman, it's worth checking out. As I get close, her hair is black, my sister is blond. This woman is fat and puffy where my sister was always skinny, another false alarm.

The guys are pushing the girl and hitting her. I yell at them to leave her alone. I am in fantastic shape at 6' 4*quot;, 250 lbs. I am imposing to most people, but not this group. I call 911 and advise that an ambulance and the police should come around as the group will be needing their services soon.

I have no idea that two high school punks are coming up behind me. One stabs me in the shoulder while the second goes for my wallet. I have adrenaline going from the anticipated fight. Instead of going down and freaking out, I get mad. With lightning reflexes, I turn on the punks, relieve them of their weapons, and smash their faces. They both drop like a sack of potatoes.

Two officers pull up in time to watch the crazy lady limp to us. Her face is full of bruises. She is muttering numbers as she walks up.

The woman stops, looks up at us, and says, *quot;Charlie has been stabbed with a 6 ¾*quot; knife in the right shoulder. He needs eight stitches.*quot;

She then turns to the side, throws up, and falls unconscious.

Policeman
questions me, *quot;Do you know her?*quot;

I reply with uncertainty, *quot;I didn't think so, but my name is Charlie. I'm looking for my sister that I haven't seen in ten years. She was blond and thin last time I saw her.*quot;

I feel lightheaded, I sit down.

I request, *quot;She goes to the hospital too. If there's a chance she's my sister, I have to know.*quot;

Then the world starts to black out. I see paramedics, we are 3.42 miles from Cook County hospital, I will live.

Chapter 2 ? Cook County Hospital

I wake up in the ER. I have been bandaged, there are IV's in me, and they're giving me blood. The nurse looks like she is part of a biker gang due to an abundance Tarabya Escort of tattoos and piercings, although she is dressed in pure white. Tattoos, piercings, spiked hair, not my type.

Still groggy, I ask, *quot;What happened to the woman who came in with me?*quot;

Biker nurse says in a pleasing voice, *quot;She's in psych, crazy as a loon. She spouts off numbers constantly.*quot;

Now intrigued, I start commanding, *quot;That crazy woman just might be my sister. I want her cleaned up, given new clothes, recorded, and then I want every blood test you can do, done. If this hospital can't handle that, prepare to have her transported to Lake Forest.*quot;

Biker nurse is surprised by my request and asks, *quot;Why would you want to record her?*quot;

Knowingly, I tell her, *quot;I am pretty sure some of the numbers I heard were her calculating pi, others were latitude and longitude coordinates. She is more than she seems. Am I staying or transferring?*quot;

Biker nurse coldly says, *quot;Our average patient is from Cook County Jail. They will happily milk you dry doing tests. You name it, we will do it.*quot;

Explaining myself, *quot;I'm looking for anything that might cause her mental condition. I want to see her clean, I need to verify if she is my sister or not. I'll help her either way, but my pockets are far deeper for my sister. Can I go now?*quot;

Biker nurse laughs at me, *quot;Baby, you are rich, clean, cute, and you lost a bunch of blood, we're keeping you for at least the night.*quot;

I ask the nurse, *quot;The lady that might be my sister said I was stabbed with a six- and three-quarter-inch blade and would need eight stitches. How many did they put in?

Biker nurse looks it up and then drops the chart, she looks speechless but mumbles, *quot;Eight stitches. How?*quot;

I smile, *quot;She is more than she seems.*quot;

Several psych people interview me about her past and my requests. Tests are in progress, they clean her up, they interview her, medicate her, and then lock her up. I don't want her leaving on me. Cook County Hospital knows how to keep people where they belong.



The next day I am set free and taken to see the homeless woman that I hope is my sister. With gaining so much weight, her face is puffy. However, her gorgeous golden blond hair is back, although cut short because it was *quot;a mess.*quot; She smiles when she sees me, and then starts with the numbers.

I inform the staff, *quot;She is rattling off the latitude and longitude coordinates of houses we lived in, and now she is calculating pi again. Can I hear the recordings from yesterday?*quot;

Psych doc coldly responds, *quot;She repeated this over and over.*quot;

He plays about ten minutes of my sister listing numbers.

With each number I get more excited, *quot;That is the coordinates of each city she has stayed at for the last five or so years and the amount she paid for each bus ticket to move. We have found my sister Anastasia. Hi Annie!*quot; I hug her.

Annie stops her mumbling, looks at me and with a sad voice, *quot;Charlie. Help,*quot; then falls asleep from the meds.

I ask with a concerned voice, *quot;How is she physically?*quot;

Doc states coldly, *quot;Physically, she's a mess, that isn't uncommon for street people. A good diet, some vitamins, and some exercise, and she will show remarkable improvement. What doesn't improve we'll target with medication. I believe you are right; something is causing her condition. She seems highly intelligent.*quot;

My first thought is, *quot;No shit doc. She makes you look like a mental midget.*quot; I stay silent.



For two weeks she is heavily medicated. Methodically they search for and find issues. Prescriptions are written, tests were redone, dosages adjusted. As we get close, Annie stops spewing numbers when awake. I can't ever remember her being awake and not talking. She wakes up with me and the doctor at her bedside.

Annie cheerfully says, *quot;Doc, no more sleeping pills.*quot;

She tells them how to adjust the drug dosages. They agree. I am on my feet; I want to rush to her. Will she remember me?

Annie scolds me, *quot;Well, aren't you going to come hug your sister?*quot;

I jump at her and squeeze her tight. Immediately her hand goes to my stab wound that is still healing.

I smirk, *quot;I am almost fully healed.*quot;

I explain, *quot;I have been searching for a couple of years. I didn't even recognize you. It was pure chance that we met.*quot;

Annie corrects me, *quot;No, I caused the fight and relied on your sense of honor to save me. My mind has been here all along, my body just didn't respond. There was a haze and a disconnect between my mind and my body. You never wavered, even at home you knew something was wrong, yet nobody listened to you. They just wanted me gone. When can I leave?*quot;

Chapter 3 ? Shopping, Work,