Survival is a privilege which entails obligations. I am forever asking myself what I can do for those who have not survived. The answer I have found for myself (and which need not necessarily be the answer for every survivor) is: I want to be their mouthpiece, I want to keep their memory alive, to make sure the dead live on in that memory.

--Anon.

"Hey, Avi! Buy you a cup of coffee?"

He'd been reading alone on the observation deck when Liza materialized beside him, a steaming mug of coffee in each hand. Warily, he laid down the copy of The Complete Dickens that the captain had loaned him. The involuntary warm shot of pleasure in his stomach in response to her presence still warred with the knot of dread in his chest that her KNOWING caused.

"Hi, Liza," he answered carefully. She looked serious as she handed him his coffee and settled beside him on the couch. Idly she glanced at the book.

"That good?"

"Apparently I'm not the only kid who ever had it rough," he answered.

She sat beside him for several long moments, not speaking, fidgeting, looking anywhere but at him before finally meeting his gaze and blurting out, "Avi—I need to ask you something."

Whatever it was, she was upset about it. Anxious.

"Okay."

"Do you ever think about killing yourself?"

He stared back at her. Whatever he'd been expecting, it wasn't that.

"Sure," he answered carefully. "Out here, doesn't everyone?"

"I don't."

"Really?"

"Really."

"No offence, Liza, but I think that makes you the unusual one here, not me."

"Would you do it? Really? Do you have plans?"

"Do you mean right now am I planning on killing myself? No, I'm not. And frankly, I can't imagine a situation where I really would. The way I look at it, I've already survived the worst my life can dish out. My mom, she gave up everything because she wasn't willing to give me up. Maybe the choices she made didn't work out so well for either of us, but she didn't do that on purpose. Since getting old enough to have some control over my destiny, I've clawed my way a little higher every year, made things a little better, learned a little more. I wasn't kidding when I told you that being here, on the Welshman, my life is better than I'd ever dreamed it could be. My mom never had the chance to make adult choices about her life, so I kind of think I owe it to her to give it my all, you know? And the fact that, even if I'm not brave enough to take a chance on us, the fact that you think I'd be worth taking a chance on—Liza, that's the biggest miracle in my entire life." He paused, and eyed her speculatively. "Did you think I was suicidal?"

For the first time since she'd asked her question, she dropped her gaze and stared at the floor. "No, not exactly."

"Then what prompted the question?"

She appeared fascinated by the patterns her boots were NOT making on the deck as she twisted her toes.

"I was asking the doc about kids who'd been abused," she started hesitantly.

"You told her?!?" He'd not expressly asked her to keep his story to herself, but he'd assumed…

Her eyes came up at that, dark and hot.

"Of course not! Not what you said, not who you were! I just asked about kids who were terrorized, and she said that they have a higher rate of suicide, that if I had a friend, I should ask. Because you might give them a way out, someone to talk to. I said it would be really hard, and she asked which was worse, broaching a hard topic or dealing with the death of someone you care about. So I asked." She paused again. "And I did bring coffee, so at least you have to give me credit for that."

With a laugh, Avi put his mug aside and pulled Liza to him, landing a solid kiss on the middle of her forehead.

"Thank you, Liza, for caring what happens to me. It's a new experience, and I'm probably not always going to handle it well, but please don't ever think that's because I don't appreciate it more than you could possibly know. And I promise, if I start thinking about killing myself, I'll come and talk to you about it first. Deal?"

She returned his kiss with a gentle brushing of lips across his cheek.

"Deal," she answered softly. "And don't you dare go breaking it. Now, what do you say we go get another cup of coffee?"