Lana was pulling the latest Val McDermid book off the shelf at the New York Library when the string of people caught her eye. She looked up from the book to see people filing into a meeting room. One of the first things Lana had wanted to do during her first week in NYC was to hit this very library and stock up on books. Insomniacs needed something distracting- and talking to her dead sister all night got old, fast.

Lana's eyes traveled to the sign outside the meeting room door. "Thanatophobia support meeting. Public welcome. Anonymous." A cold chill ran down Lana's spine, and she had to stare at the sign for a moment to really decide if she was reading it correctly. Thanatophobia was psychologist talk for fear of death. Lana's stomach did a little flip. A phobia was a phobia. Lots of people had a phobia, and the thing about phobias is that they are irrational. That's the point. They don't make a lot of sense to someone who doesn't have them, especially specific ones.

Lana had sought treatment from her mentor for her thanatophobia, and his professional opinion was that due to her mutation and post traumatic stress disorder- she'd be coping with it until she actually died. Lana had read all the books, all the papers, all the new aged articles. The problem with thanatophobia support groups is that they were usually super religious or super atheist. Both groups swearing to cure your thanatophobia if you simply subscribe to the belief that there is or isn't a God and apparently one of those beliefs would erase your phobia! It annoyed the hell out of Lana. Being afraid of an afterlife, or lack of an afterlife, was really only a small part of thanatophobia. And people of all beliefs and backgrounds had thanatophobia.

The cure for most phobias, was exposure. But Lana was exposed to death on a daily basis. All it did was make her fear worse. It was hard to put her fear into words. There was certainly the very real fear that there was nothing else, she'd shut off when she dies, and stop existing. But on the other end what if the Jesus freaks had it right and there was only a heaven or hell and you lined up and some angel with an attitude told you if you were going up or down? There was the very real fear of pain, of loss of control, of leaving loved ones. Part of thanatophobia was being afraid of watching loved ones die and in pain. Lana's thanatophobia was a very real reason for her insomnia and bad dreams.

She took a step closer to the meeting room and could hear the voices from inside. The lights were soft, and the doors were open. Next to the welcoming sign she notice information about the speaker. He was a psychologist! Well that was a good sign. Not a pious church-goer to save her soul, not a rational thinker to convince her she didn't have one. Just a clinician who would approach this from a mental point of view. Lana lingered near the door, and she could hear the speakers introduction.

"We're finding that individuals suffering from thanatophobia nearly all have traumatic childhoods. The rate is higher in women, but of course women seem more open to volunteering for the studies.  Many living with thanatophobia have developed it as part of PTSD. It can affect their daily life. A trigger may cause a panic attack, may cause them to be too scared to leave their homes or go in a car or take anything they see as a risk. It may prevent them from seeking medical help or they may be seeking medical help too often. Some are in denial about their health, others are total hypochondriacs. " Lana sort of sat in the middle of all this. She could certainly have the odd panic attack. She had them constantly when she was younger but now she was a lot more accountable of her own mental health. Panic attacks only happened when they caught her off guard because of stress. Once in a while if she was forced to look at a dead body, she would have a panic attack later and most certainly be unable to sleep.

"...there's new interesting studies being done that suggests mutants may have increased risk of thanatophobia, especially those who deal with psychic mutations or unstable mutations." Lana had to admit, the idea had occurred to her before, but this was the first time she'd ever heard another professional say something like that.

Lana was now standing in the open door frame, totally absorbed in the speakers introduction. She hadn't yet noticed if anyone else was entering the room to also hear the talk.

Ah, the library. Ty stepped inside, taking in the sights, the sounds, the smells. Very few people--if any--knew that Ty loved to read. However, it was something he just hadn't done in far too long. So today, he was going to make all about reading. Yes, the adventurous, ginger trouble-maker was going to spend an entire day in the library.

It was relatively quiet, even his footsteps didn't make a sound; though that was likely because someone of his...qualifications tended to be very light footed. He took a breath as he browsed shelf after shelf, awakening a part of him that had been dormant for so long.

Finally, a book caught the young man's hazel-blue eyes. The Outsiders. It was an old favorite of his, following a group of street punks not too much unlike himself. He smiled, taking the book and cracking it open as he continued walking, trying to find a nice place to read and enjoy it. Oh, there was an open door.

On trying to reach it, he noticed there was some girl in the doorway, and he started to say something to her, but he then noticed the sign on the wall outside. Fear of...Death? Ha. That was something Ty used to be afraid of, but not any--

Gunfire. Running. Almost falling off of a building. Getting trapped in a van with a werecat. Hunting psychopaths. Ty stared in the face of death more than one should. And he realized it still scared him. Scared of dying. Scared of losing those he loved like he had so many other people.

He propped against the wall, listening to what the speaker inside had to say. If nothing else he was intrigued. But it would be better for him if he just stayed right out here. No need to draw attention, right?

Lana was totally absorbed in the discussion when the young man came up next to her. She was sort of aware that a person was standing there, but unlike her usual self, she didn't turn to profile them. In fact, Lana wasn't profiling anyone. Individuals were now standing up to raise their hand and share their own stories- much like in AA Meetings- and Lana was simply listening. She'd even forgotten to look around for spirits.

"I've been afraid of death since my car accident in 88" Came one man's story.

"For me it started when I realized I could seriously harm someone with my mutation." came another.

For each person is seemed to be quite a relief to say their fear out loud. Lana wondered why her own mentor had never suggested group support or group therapy. Maybe groups like this were rare? This was a series of lectures on phobias according to the poster information. So last week was spiders, next week would be agoraphobia type of deal?

Lana felt a sense of comradely with these strangers, but at the same time talking about the phobia so openly was triggering her anxiety a bit. Her chest tightened and she noticed her breathing pick up. "Ok Lana." she thought to herself. "You're a big girl. No one is making you listen, you can just check out your books and go home."

She turned, and smacked right into the young man that had been standing there, sending her armload of books flying. "Oh my gosh I'm so sorry!" she babbled and she scuffled to her feet and held out a hand to offer him help standing up. "Some phobia huh?" she said awkwardly. "They don't mention it leading to distraction and clumsiness." she blushed a little out of embaressment.

He looked a bit younger than she was, but maybe only a few years. He hadn't even opened his mouth yet, but she'd bet money he has Irish in his blood.

Ty listened to story after story, eventually cracking open his book and paying more and more attention to the words on the page than he was what was going on. Everyone had a different story, but it seemed he was the only one that tried to forget his fear by doing stupid and dangerous stuff. In the end, he loved the rush; when his heart started pounding and his blood started rushing, and fear gripped him like an iron straight-jacket.

Whap!

Suddenly Ty found himself sitting on the floor, surrounded by books, and looking up at the woman who'd bumped into him. For a moment, he looked like a deer in headlights. Tightening his black fingerless gloves, he scooped up her books, placing his own under his arm, then took the hand.

"It is interesting," he replied. "It's cool. You didn't see me. I was mostly just eavesdropping anyway," he continued, not outright saying he may have belonged in the support group, himself.

"It is interesting," he replied. "It's cool. You didn't see me. I was mostly just eavesdropping anyway,"

Lana smiled still a little red, and scooped her books back up. Why was he listening in on a phobia support group? Did something catch his ear or did it just seem interesting? The psychologist in her wanted to pry but she kept quiet for a moment.

"Hey." she started. "This is going to sound a bit weird, but do you have Irish ancestry?" thanks to her job Lana was great at picking out those sorts of details about people. She'd bet based on his colouring and a slight trace in his voice that he had Irish family, even if he was born here himself. Lana was born in Canada, but her mother was as Irish as they came. Whenever she spent time around her she'd pick up on the accent, and obviously with her red hair and pale complexion she looked very Irish too. "I only ask because I have Irish background so I tend to notice it in other people."

There was something interesting about this guy, and she was picking up on it. She just wasn't sure what it was. Maybe he was a mutant? She didn't see any spirits at the moment that she knew of, could he be an adapated?

Ty tucked his book under his arm and smiled. "Yeah. I spent the first fourteen years of my life in Georgia, but my Grandpa's full-blooded Irish. His parents were immigrants from Ireland, and he was born here. In New York, if I'm not mistaken. Then he met my grandmother and they broke the chain, heh," he explained, joking lightly.

He found the stranger to be very observant; he himself was Irish, but wouldn't know another person of Irish descent if they punched him in the nose. "I'm Ty, by the way," he added politely.

Lana grinned. She loved it when her observations turned out to be true. Every opportunity with real people in the real world was a chance to hone her skills. She never passed it up. It was automatic. She'd have to be really distracted (like earlier) to not do it immediately. "My Dad is from Greece, my mom literally moved to Canada from Ireland." she explained.

"I'm Ty, by the way,"

He introduced himself and Lana held out her hand to greet him. "Lana." she smiled. "I just moved here to NYC this week for work." She observed him a little more, trying to deduce as much as she could in the blink of an eye. He was younger than her for sure, but he certainly wasn't a teenager. "Are you a student?" she asked. He'd be in the right age groups, and most twenty somethings she met turned out to be university students. Who knows? Maybe she'd hit the jackpot and meet a student of the famed mutant school.

"I been here about...six, seven years or so," he stated. "I like it, and there's nothing for me back where I came from, but some parts of heritage has a way of sticking with you, no matter where ya go. I have to say, there's a bit of relief in that sometimes," the last sentence, he said a little more dreamily, thinking back on his past and things he'd gone through.

"Student? Me? Nah, but my sister stays at the mansion around here." he answered with a chuckle, shaking her hand with his own fingerless-glove clad one. "Nice to meet ya though. But, I have to ask. Any reason you were standing in the doorway of that meeting thing?" He brushed his ginger hair out of his face.

"I been here about...six, seven years or so," he stated. "I like it, and there's nothing for me back where I came from, but some parts of heritage has a way of sticking with you, no matter where ya go. I have to say, there's a bit of relief in that sometimes,"

Lana nodded, resisting the urge to prod him for more information like any psychologist worth their salt would.

"Student? Me? Nah, but my sister stays at the mansion around here." he answered with a chuckle, shaking her hand with his own fingerless-glove clad one. "Nice to meet ya though. But, I have to ask. Any reason you were standing in the doorway of that meeting thing?" He brushed his ginger hair out of his face.

"Mansion?" were there a lot of mansions in New York City? He'd called it the mansion. Was this something she should know about? "Oh, I'm a psychologist." she explained. "I was surprised to hear another clinician speaking about phobias. I always try to meet resident psychologist everywhere I live." It wasn't a lie. If she hadn't gotten so freaked out by the time she'd bumped into Ty, she would have made a point to meet the doctor speaking. She always found phobias interesting. Just not hers. "What about you?"

"Yeah. All I know is it's this place for mutants to live and fellowship with one another. The Sanctuary's pretty much the same thing, so I guess it's just a matter of preference," he explained, leaving out a few crucial details. On that note, it occurred him that he needed to catch back up with his sister at some point; they hadn't really hung out since he helped her move in.

"Nice. Me, I'm just a kid off the streets. Live by my own ways, my own will. At least I did before I met up with other mutants and found the Sanctuary, that is. Now, I'm still doing sorta the same thing, but with a decent place to crash every night." He paused a minute, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"I just thought it was interesting, is all." Okay, so it was an obvious lie, but still sort of the truth. He did find it intriguing, but because death was something that weighed on his mind as well.

>>"Yeah. All I know is it's this place for mutants to live and fellowship with one another. The Sanctuary's pretty much the same thing, so I guess it's just a matter of preference,"

Lana raised an eyebrow. Was this the mutant school she'd heard so much about? It made sense it would be in a huge building like a mansion. But it seemed odd to her that it was referred to as a mansion. Every private school was usually in a large building. This one must really be a doozy. Also, she wondered what he meant by Sanctuary. Was this a competing school?  Were they both for mutants? Did that mean Ty was a mutant? She was about to ask when he continued. She had so many questions.

>>"Nice. Me, I'm just a kid off the streets. Live by my own ways, my own will. At least I did before I met up with other mutants and found the Sanctuary, that is. Now, I'm still doing sorta the same thing, but with a decent place to crash every night."

Lana frowned and her eyebrows knitted together. "But you are off the streets right? Sorry but the professional in me is pretty much required to make sure you've got a safe place to stay." well, that would of been the truth if he was underage. Really, she was just the type of person to get concerned for strangers. She wasn't sure if it was the result of her job or the result of her ability to see dead people. Loads of empathy.

>>"I just thought it was interesting, is all."

"Yeah." she detected something there but didn't think it was worth following up on. He wasn't her patient after all. "Can you tell me more about the mansion and the sanctuary? I mean, I heard a bit about the school for mutants. But I didn't realize it was in a mansion. I've also not heard about the Sanctuary. I work with a lot of mutants in my job, uh- providing support." it was true, she did provide support to mutants. Usually it was psychopathic mutants...

"Yeah, I'm off of the streets; got a safe place to go and all. Thanks," he answered with a small blush. Not too many people really cared about some kid on the streets, especially not a mutant like himself in New York. Inwardly, he breathed a sigh of relief, his little lie of sorts had worked. And on top of that, he seemed to have piqued her interest.

"I think the mansion is also a school of sorts. I know mutants go there to hone their powers. Sanctuary isn't so much a school as a shelter, and I don't think there's as many rules. Or shouldn't be, anyway. I'm sorta biased, after all," he winked, flashing a little goofy grin.

>>"Yeah, I'm off of the streets; got a safe place to go and all. Thanks,"

Lana forced a smile in response. She couldn't help the twinge of worry. Ty seemed like the kind of guy who was a bit of a rebel without a cause. Maybe his mutation made him that way. She knew a lot of kids ended up on the streets because of their mutation, behaviour problems, or sexual orientation. It was a hard world out there. She would sadly see the results of that sitting across from her in a session. So many criminals wouldn't be that way if a kind adult had intervened when they were kids. She mentally hoped Ty had had some kind adults in his life. She knew she couldn't be more than 7 or 8 years older than he was, but she hoped she could at least be a kind person.

>>"I think the mansion is also a school of sorts. I know mutants go there to hone their powers. Sanctuary isn't so much a school as a shelter, and I don't think there's as many rules. Or shouldn't be, anyway. I'm sorta biased, after all," he winked, flashing a little goofy grin.

"Yes, I've heard more about the school end of things. So your sister goes there? Do you see her much?" she couldn't help fall into the psychologist mode. It was natural. The Sanctuary description gave her a twinge of nervousness. It sounded like a hole in the wall where street kids might settle. Most cities had some sort of place, usually full of drugs, alcohol, and violence, and this one would most likely be filled with mutants. She wondered if her colleges in the police, FBI, or the institution had heard about it.

A man from Ty's background could tell a forced smile when he saw one, though he usually saw them on elderly people pretending to be sympathetic. Maybe something he'd said rubbed her the wrong way, who knew?

"Yeah, I only know what my sister had told me before she moved in." His smile dropped a little at the next question, sadness and regret clearly reflected in the icy blue of his eyes. "Not as much as I should. I honestly haven't seen her in quite some time. I mean, I need to, but I just got caught up in things that were going on. Mostly doing one-time jobs to make a little cash, but..." his voice trailed off a little, and he tugged at the black fingerless glove on his left hand before stuffing them into the pockets of his dark green hoodie.

>>"Yeah, I only know what my sister had told me before she moved in. Not as much as I should. I honestly haven't seen her in quite some time. I mean, I need to, but I just got caught up in things that were going on. Mostly doing one-time jobs to make a little cash, but..."

Lana frowned. "Listen Ty..." she started a little wearily. "I can tell you're a guy who has probably been through some... stuff." she paused and thought about how to word this next part, but instead dug through her purse and produced her new business cards. "If you ever need to talk to someone... give me a call okay?" she passed him the business card "...and, I mean, don't worry about payment or anything. I'd see you probono if you think you needed it. Or if you find yourself in a situation and just need... outside advice." she pressed the card into his hand and gave him a knowing smile. "I'll see you around."