When super blood-or super villain blood-keeps you going much longer than your life was originally scheduled for, well, you ended up outliving pretty much everyone you’d ever known.

But today was about honoring those who had died in service to Starfleet and the Federation.

He stopped at Pike’s, Carol’s, and Chekov’s along the way. A few more that had served under him. Hendorff’s. Giotto’s.

And finally he stopped at his dad’s. Of all those sections in the Memorial he had visited, his dad was the only one he’d never gotten to know. Not even briefly, like Sam.

His thoughts strayed to his late brother. Gone now too, since there’d been no miracle blood to prolong his life. They’d reconciled at the end but they’d missed far too many years over too many hurt feelings.

By the time he made it out of the Memorial, he was exhausted. Not because he felt any physical weakness. He didn’t at all. But the emotional toll was great.

So he stood there outside of it, leaning against a wall, closing his eyes as a sort of survivor’s guilt assailed him.

“Jim.”

A soft touch on his elbow.

He opened his eyes to look into the concerned dark eyes of his husband.

“Hi, Spock.”

“You did not wait and went without me.”

Jim nodded. “I can wait here if you want to go.”

Spock looked past him to the entrance. “No. My place is with you. I mourn their memories.” Spock took Jim’s arm and helped him to walk away from the building.

“Did you make the arrangements for your father?”

Another loss. Another memory. Or a thousand memories.

“Yes.” Spock said nothing else as they walked together. They remained quiet as they made their way home. It was good to have each other. In that the miracle of Kahn’s blood had blessed him.