No matter how many times Jim came to the Starfleet Memorial Cemetery in San Francisco, it never failed to not only fill him with sorrow but give him the chills. So many lives lost and each year more appeared.

He went to his father’s memorial first. It was a plaque only, there’d been no remains to bury or cremate.

He didn’t linger there long as he’d never known his dad, really. Just the idea of a dad and stories his mother told him.

Pike was next. There he stayed longer, but he didn’t speak. Really, he never spoke much when he came here. It was just, when he was in the city, he came, to honor those he knew and came before him.

He stopped at others…Gaila, Chekov, both far too young.


And then finally, Scotty, Sulu, Uhura.


Having super blood meant you outlived everyone else, Jim guessed. There were some things that were not worth it.

Jim turned to face Spock, who accompanied him. His dark eyes were soft, warm, and likewise filled with sorrow.

“Thanks for coming with me,” he whispered.

“I always will. Our transport to New Vulcan awaits.”

Jim nodded and touched his fingers to Spock.

There were some things that were.