Strong, oppressed, isolated, wounded, pained, scared, conquering and conquered. A Jane Doe syndrome, one who functions at minimum, adequately. May even excel, but whose real identity lay hidden beneath a tough-skinned chameleon exterior.

The pen she'd hold was far more than a utensil for documentation or information. It was an intricate shield and vehicle of protection. A silent shout of self-defense, an undetected cry for help.

She had everything that money could buy. Loud only when cornered, in order to maintain the chameleon exterior. She painted the W.A.S.P.Y. exterior without flaw, as a master. Not from the breeding, though it was there but, submersion of the personal indignities of her childhood.

Happiness was probably the most transient thing to her. Leaking exhaustively like a sieve. So many thought they had a handle on her, but no one a grip on her reality. Well, maybe one!

Who was there to trust? Who could she seek total solace with? Peace with? A part of herself left in the past, celled off. So many times she tried unsuccessfully to liberate. Now that part was restless for escape. The route forgotten, and covered over by all the inner manipulations of her hidden self; acted as a cave-in to imprison.

She didn't need to be wrenched out of herself. But, encouraged to see that she had the power within her to be safe, to be free! Surrounded by mercenaries that gravitate to that kind of money, her defense mechanisms became more fine tuned and versatile with almost each experience.

She prostituted herself in the name of normalcy. Could not, would not, start a relationship that was beyond her control to finalize. She was as powerful a woman of this day, one might hope to achieve. But, felt it's impotence and quietly searched for answers. Never looking inward, how does one forgive the unforgivable?

So strong, but isn't that really weakness? Unyielding, protective, manipulating, who's job was P.R. Her side step and camouflage, were as much a part of her daily living as brushing one's teeth!

I think back now and believe, that Joanie was convinced that she was actually honest with me. Though her side step, being so well integrated into her daily living, would be our stumbling block. I am without doubt that her smile and laughter did indeed belonged to me. Mr. Hugs is still with Joanie, and the lab coat is retired to Susan's closet. Joan was right, the "Doctor needs a Doctor" wasn't far from the truth.

Nowadays, I seem to be able to look passed the empty sidewalk, from where she used to stand. To where she is today. She's in the sunlight that gives me warmth, in front of the wind to shelter me from the chill. And on the darkest of nights when I look up... I search until I find the star that is twinkling the most. My heart knows she is standing before it, and waving with excitement, because I've looked into her face.