4A/N: This is my tribute to Don S. Davis. He was a terrific actor and will be greatly missed.
I don't own any of the characters and I'm not making money off of this story. Please don't sue me. Also, I loved Jonas as a character, so for my purposes I assume he stayed in contact with SG-1.
Sam had been through this before, a couple of times. She'd said good bye too many times this way. But the one man who had always been there, always maintained the dignity of the dead, was not here – not in that capacity, anyway. Today, he was the dead. She watched as Jack took a deep breath, unprepared to take his place at the podium. She squeezed his arm gently, but he couldn't look at her just then; Sam understood that. He locked eyes with Daniel instead. He took one more deep breath, this one a little less shaky, and walked up the ramp he'd walked up so many times before. This time he walked up with more trepidation than he'd ever had, even if he'd known there were hundreds of Replicators just waiting to zap him away and stick their hands in his brain. Sam watched him walk slowly up the ramp and as he reached the podium, she realized she couldn't look at him, either. Not if they wanted this to be a dignified funeral.
"Today, we are here to honor a great man. General George Hammond…"
Sam would never remember what Jack said that day. If he was honest, neither would Jack. All she would ever remember is that she stood and kept her composure and gave the General the dignified funeral he deserved. Her tears, her pain, she held them inside. Then, when Jack was finished, the embarkation room slowly emptied. When Sam finally tore herself away, she decided to do what she'd seen the General do all those times he'd had to officiate at a funeral. She headed up to what used to be his office, where she planned on losing all dignity in private. She walked deliberately up the steps, feeling the need to reach her goal as quickly as she could.
When she reached the office, a small smile touched her mouth as she let the first silent tears fall. SG-1 – her SG-1 – had been together too long; they were all crowded into the small office, most with tears on their faces, sitting in silence. General O'Neill was here, sitting behind the desk that had not so long ago been General Hammond's. Daniel sat in a chair next to Jonas, who'd come for the funeral. Teal'c, as always, stood stoically against a wall, watching over everyone like he always did, ensuring that no one outside that room would intrude. Those people outside would never recognize the grief that Teal'c hid so well, but those inside saw it plainly.
Jonas got up and moved to the edge of the desk and Sam took his seat. Not a single word passed among those five for the next hour, nor did anyone offer comfort in any of the traditional forms: no hugging, no shoulder squeezing. They didn't need any of that. They were SG-1, and that was more than just the name of their team. The comfort they found was from being together, and that was the legacy General George Hammond left behind.
It was his greatest testament.