His ashes had been divided among those closest to him. They were variously, and with great reverence and love, scattered, sifted, or shed like tears on the ground where his family had made their home and livelihood, where his heart had always remained even when he could not.
Finally, it was her turn. She cradled the silver dish tenderly in both hands, as if it held the most precious treasures of the universe. And to her, in this moment, it did. She walked away from the others, a couple of dozen paces or more, to where the overgrown ridges rose to a knoll that overlooked the rest of the valley. There, she waited.
One of her friends looked in concern to her husband, who smiled slightly in reassurance.
The wait ended when the wind freshened for a moment, blowing out and over the knoll toward the valley. It was then that she raised the silver dish, in every respect appearing to make an offering. And to her, in this moment, she was.
When the breeze reached its height, she held the silver dish close to her face, and with a single breath blew its contents aloft. The grey dust was lifted and dispersed, disappearing on the wind.
"Welcome home, Jean Luc," Leo whispered.
Behind her, Will murmured, "Who knows where he'll go?"
When Leo turned, the smile that lit her face required no explanation.
"Where all ships' captains go… wherever the wind takes him."