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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.

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.

Hey Noel, I made a thread for us here

Ty that sounds like a really cool mutation. I just checked out your profile, Lana is Irish too, she also has a fear of death. I know this sounds kinda wonky, but we could totally make them meet at a support group or meeting for people with a fear of death. I kinda think that would be really funny to write XD. Like, sometime is going on at the library and they both happen to pop in. Recognize that they're each Irish and strike up a conversation?

Lana relaxed a bit more as Evelyn introduced herself, and soon it all began to make sense. "Wow I'm a bit relieved to hear that actually." she explained. "I'm not usually great with first impressions, but I'm also not usually this bad." she gave a nervous laugh. "Hyper-awareness huh? You'd make a GREAT profiler." Lana beamed at her. "A skeleton friend eh? That would be a first for me. I hope the poor guy is a mutant... otherwise.." she was trying to make a joke but not entirely sure it was working. "I wonder if I'll run into him. I've been set up to consult for both the FBI and the NYPD." she explained. Lana was always so socially awkward. But then people would always end up surprised when they actually saw her speak to a criminal. It was like everything converged inside her and she had infinite focus.

Lana patted the spot next to her. "Feel free to sit down if you like, it's always nice to meet fellow mutants, but very rare for me to meet someone so observant. What an interesting mutation." Now Lana felt like a normal person having a conversation, instead of a crazy person trying to fake it. "This is actually my first day on the job. I've been in the city for two days but I'm not really settled yet. Just got my apartment over on 5th. Coming in from L.A., but originally Toronto.  You think I'd be used to the cold but I guess L.A. spoiled me a bit. "Lana had a habit of rambling a bit- narrating her inner thoughts in place of regular speaking. "Are you a New Yorker or somewhere else?" she inquired. Lana's own accent was a bit muddled, and she really did look very stereo typically Irish. They wasn't much of her father's colouring in her besides her almost red eyes. Of course, she got her strong angular physique from him.

ooh read your profile. Hi Ghosty lol

Lana smiled as the woman explained her job. She would have liked to have worked in an art gallery at some point. Maybe in another life. Colourful paintings were often better than colourful personalities. Colourful personalities were over-rated. While she chatted Lana couldn't help herself from noticing other things: what she wore, how she moved, her expressions... things everyone usually sees when they speak, but they don't really see. Lana was trained to see everything- and sometimes she forgot to turn it off.

The woman chatted for a moment, validating that Lana was indeed correct about her eyes. However, she didn't offer up her name, or any details about herself that Lana hadn't already deduced. It made her nervous. Moves like that were often missed by the average person, but Lana saw it as calculated. A choice. She suddenly regretted revealing the fact that she had a mutation so soon, and the pit in her stomach deepened a bit. She'd been forward. That's what she'd been psyching herself up for all day so she could meet the right roommates later.

"So I doubt there is anyway to ask it without being rude: voices, ghosts, telepathy? I'd know that look anywhere. It's like being tuned into a radio signal no one else is."

Lana had expected the question to come, but maybe not so specifically. It caught her a bit off guard and she stared at the woman- wondering if it was too late to be aloof. "Spirits." she said carefully, watching the woman for a reaction. "I try not to let on that I'm seeing them, otherwise they'll bother me." she added.

Lana picked up her sandwich and took another bite, looking out past the woman to see if any of the spirits had indeed realized anything about her yet. They all seemed stuck in their loops, and Lana's eyes faded to normal. "It helps in my work. I'm a criminal psychologist and profiler consultant." well if this lady had anything suspicious about her, chances were a statement like that would scare her off or at least slip her up. "I work over there." she pointed in the direction of the well known institution for the criminally insane.

Lana was focusing on a repetitive spirit that simply continued throwing a stick. The grey hazy image of a kid- maybe 17- floated only slightly off the ground. Spirits often did repetitive movements, and as long as Lana was careful with her observations- they wouldn't realize she could see them and would stay in whatever loop they were in. It was only when they saw people like Lana that they became animated again. Lana just continued eating her sandwich wondering if the kid was throwing a stick to some unseen dog. Usually spirits relived something traumatizing but if the kid spent a lot of time in this park with his dog, it made sense for him to be stuck in this loop. She wondered what Laura would think.

A few case files were sprawled on the bench next to her, and Lana picked one up and thumbed through it. She had yet to meet all the Staff at the institution, but would be damned if she didn't know every patient at least a little by the end of the day. Her eyes would glance upward every few minutes, rapidly searching the crowd. Lana couldn't help it, it was a habit. If the spirits she'd been watching disappeared- then Lana knew an adapted human was nearby. She hated to be manipulative but she was getting desperate for a roommate and wasn't above faking a bump into a stranger who happened to be adapted for an excuse to buy them an apology coffee and get to know them. It was really a round-a-bout way when she could simply walk over to a stranger and introduce herself. Lana never could get her head around the direct approach with anyone other than mental patients.

Suddenly a figure interrupted her line of sight, and Lana glanced up while still munching on her food. A woman stood in front of her, and like the good profiler Lana was- she was already making observations. It was habitual.

Lana was taller than the woman, she'd put her at about 5'2" and likely a handful of years younger- unless the girl was like Lana and looked younger than her age. She was pale like Lana and had long hair, but hers was nearly white. The contrast of her skin made her eyes seem a silvery blue. Lana's vision panned out and she took the woman in.

"Sorry, I just..."

Lana smiled at her, unsure what to say, but continuing to make mental observations. This was what Lana had problems with socially. Was she supposed to know how to respond to that? Did normal people respond to that? "You just painting or something?"  asked Lana. "I mean, well I noticed you've got a bit of paint on your hands, and a bit on your shoes, and I thought maybe you work as a painter or in an art gallery or something. I like art galleries." 

Lana smiled at the woman but inside her stomach went into a pit. She knew once the words left her mouth she sounded like an idiot. She could talk to a psychopath and manage to sound smart and controlled, but a stranger in the park through her for a loop. So what does she do? Blurt out the profiling she's doing internally! What a way to meet people and freak them out. She mentally lectured herself.

This was Lana's issue, passing for human. It wasn't because she was a mutant who needed to pretend to be human, it was that she was a messed up psychologist who had to pretend to be normal. She often came off like she had autism or some other communication disorder when it came to first impressions.

Then again, this woman could very well be a ghost who just realized Lana could see her. That would just be a great start to her lunch break....