**Well, this is my first time writing a regular, drama (not adventure) story. I hope it is just as good as my other stories! Also! I am planning: throughout the book, it will mostly be in 3rd person, but at times, it may switch to 1st POVS of Brooklyn, Prot, or Mark. So, please R&R! I would love to have lots!**

A young girl stood in the middle of the sidewalk, not being noticed by any people passing by. She was tall, in a way, with a nice hourglass figure. Her hair was a pretty brown that was pulled straight back into a ponytail, so no pieces fell into her face. Her distinct features on her face made her look prominent, a feature that wasn't shared very often. Her tiny figure went well with her perfect hips, another feature that wasn't shared as much.

The most interesting part about her was that her eyes were not visible. The girl was wearing dark sunglasses over her eyes. It made since it was very bright that day in Manhattan, but it just had an odd feeling to it. She was beautiful, even with the sunglasses on.

Whistles blasted through the air, including sirens. The girl spun around to see three officers moving quickly toward her, also two police cars zooming through the city. The girl took off in the direction that stood before her, running as fast she possibly could. The girl was pretty fast at running, as if she had run all her life. Her blood was pounding as she pushed people aside, her lips tight with determination. All she could was feel fear, knowing she was going to get caught and taken somewhere. She forced all her energy and heart into her run.

She flew around a corner to see a building, the building she had been searching for. She could feel it. The building read: Psychiatric Institute of Manhattan. A grand smile appeared on her face as she stood in front of, forgetting all the troubles behind her, unfortunately. The sirens burned behind her, coming to a stop when they reached her. People inside the Institute poured to stare at the window to see the comotion. A older man, somewhere in his fourties, ran out of the building with other workers to watch the girl get attacked by the police. Two officers grabbed at her arms, forcing her down on her knees.

The officers glanced up at the older man who was wearing a gray suit. "Sorry, Dr. Powell."

"It's fine, boys," Dr. Mark Powell answered, running his hand through his hair. "What's been going on."

The sargent took a few steps toward Mark, still keeping a close eye on the girl. "We found this girl taking money out of the bank when it did belong to her at all. Also, someone was screaming about something, almost as if she was doing something to the woman that the woman was not pleased about. We don't know anything about the girl. She only says that her name is Brookyln."

"Brooklyn?" Mark asked, glancing down at the girl. "Funny name to have in New York."

"We all have a feeling that it's a fake name. I mean, c'mon, that's an obvious fake name. It's like living in California and calling yourself Cali," the sargent chuckled.

"But," Mark pointed a finger. "It's still possible."

"True, true." The sargent agreed.

They all stared at the girl as the officers tried to place handcuffs on her. Brookyln gazed up at Mark, the reflection of sun off her glasses, and glistening her beautiful hair. As Mark stared at the girl, her recognized her from somewhere. Silently, he watched tears drip down from behind her sunglasses.

It all clicked then.

Mark looked up toward the windows of the Institute and found Prot watching the scene from the window. The similar hair color and the presence of the sunglasses showed they were connected somehow. Mark found his chance to discover something.

"Excuse me," Mark said to the sargent, heading towards the girl being handcuffed. "Um..Brooklyn? What are you doing here?"

Brooklyn found the man who matched voice easily. "I'm here to find him."

"Who?"

Brooklyn choked. "Please! Let me see him! PLEASE!"

Mark shared a glance with the officers as the girl broke into tears. "I'll take her boys."

"Dr. Powell? Are you sure that's okay?"

"I'm sure," Mark smiled. "I think I know who she is looking for."

The officers removed her handcuffs and nodded toward Mark. Brookyln stood up, searching around, wiping off dust from her arm. Mark took Brooklyn's arm, which made Brookyln look at him with a puzzled expression.

"Don't worry, Brooklyn. You are safe with us. May I talk to you before you see your father?"

Brooklyn shrugged. "Sounds fine."

Mark directed her into his office, where he closed the blinds, an action that it did whenever Prot came to visit. When he turned to Brooklyn, he found her trailing around the room, touching objects that lay around his office.

"Um…Brooklyn? Can you take off your sunglasses now?" Mark asked.

Brooklyn, nervous, slowly took off her glasses. She turned toward Mark and he saw that she had remarkable sky blue eyes. Mark grinned at her, hopefully finding the answer to all his stress.

"Please sit, Brooklyn," Mark held out a hand toward the seat next to his.

Brooklyn took the seat, quietly, shy as usual. "You have a nice place."

"Thank you," Mark replied. "Now, Brooklyn, I would like to stay first, you are a beautiful young woman."

A slight twinkle rose into her eyes. "Thanks."

"How old are you, if you don't mind me asking?" Mark tried to get closer to answers.

"I'm seventeen," she answered.

"Hmm…that's very interesting. So why are you here?"

Brooklyn looked around like a little kitten that was in a different place. "To meet my father."

"Who is your father?" Mark leaned back in his chair.

Brookyln met his eyes. "I'm not aloud to say."

Mark nodded, remembering Prot say the same thing. "All right. Where are you from?"

"The same place as my father; K-Pax."

Is this some heritary disease? Mark thought. "I thought your didn't have families in K-Pax."

Brooklyn laughed the most gorgeous laugh in the world. "Mother told me he would say that. He doesn't know I exist."

"Really?" Mark asked, puzzled.

"It's a complicated process that I cannot explain, I'm sorry," Brooklyn apologized.

"It's quite all right. Do you mind waiting here for couple of minutes?"

"Mhm," Brooklyn mumbled, putting her sunglasses back on.

Mark stood up, exiting the room to find Betty to explain that they were putting in a new patient. Mark concluded that Brooklyn was somehow Prot's child, but both of them had the same story going through their minds. If Prot does not know he has a daughter, how is it possible that Brooklyn has the same world in her mind? How could Brooklyn possibly know that her father was like that?

"You mean, this seventeen year old girl has the same issues as Prot does?" Betty asked. "And neither of them have been around each other?"

"It has to connect somewhere in between," Mark responded. "It has to."

Mark traveled down another hall to write down Brooklyn's name and case into a small file until they found more evidence about her. When Mark returned to his office, a surprise was in store.

"Hey, Brooklyn, we have a room just for you so-" Mark stopped in mid-sentence.

Brooklyn was not in the room.

"Betty!" Mark yelled, checking once more over his room.

He flew out of his office and practically crashed into Betty during the process. Mark was so freaked out that he was having a difficult time breathing well.

"What's wrong, Mark?" Betty asked, placing a hand on his arm.

"Where is Brooklyn?" Mark repeated a question, breathless.

Betty's face went white. "She's not in your office? I never once saw her walk out."

Mark securely scanned over the room next to the cafeteria. There was no sight of the newcomer anywhere. Mark also realized that neither was Prot.

"I know where she is," Mark replied, leading Betty down the hall toward Prot's room.

"So she is only seventeen? Shouldn't she go to an Institute for young adults?" Betty questioned.

Mark almost shouted at the possibility of losing his best clue to solving Prot's problem. "No! I presume that she is close to the age of eighteen at some time, so she would be allowed to stay here. We'll just place her in a separate area so she is not too close to the adults."

Betty grabbed Mark's arm, stopping him. "Mark, why do you want this girl to stay here so badly?"

Mark was trying to find how to explain it, so he manuvered his eyes around the room, quickly thinking. He opened his eyes when he found a good example. "Betty, I need this girl. She may be some sort of clue to Prot's past, something that happened to him that made him be like this. And," Mark contuined as they started down the hall again. "If there is another person that has the same 'issue' as another patient, especially when it is this out of the world, then I should have them both tested."

"Mark," Betty persued. "You can't test her without parent's permission."

Mark stopped again. "Damn!"

"We'll figure it out later," Betty knew this was just bringing more stress onto him. "Let's just find her first and get her situated."

"And have Prot finally meet his daughter," Mark stated.

"This is Prot's room," Betty pointed to the door coming up to them.

Both of them realized that the door was open, which was odd because around this time, Prot was asleep in his room. They ran faster down the hall until Mark skidded to a sudden stop in front of the doorway. When Betty arrived behind him, they both found their answer to why the door was open.

Brooklyn stood over Prot as he slept, sliding her hand over his face, entranced. The glimpse in Brooklyn's eyes showed that she was both relieved and happy.

"So, this is my father…" Brooklyn whispered, aloud, stroking Prot's cheek.

Mark began to speak, but he was stopped with the next moment.

Prot's eyes flashed open (you could tell from the flitter behind his shades) and he stared up at Brooklyn, cocking his head in puzzlement.

"Who are you?" Prot asked.

Brooklyn inhaled deeply while Mark and Betty watched on, stunned.

**Tell me what you think of it so far! I'm hear for any compliments/reviews! I would love to get as many as possible! Thanks**