A/N: Ok just to be on the safe side, I'm putting a language warning on this chapter. I've also been advised that a tissue warning might be a good idea, but I'll leave that up to you to decide.

A week later, standing on his favorite balcony Troy leaned against the railing taking in the view. Despite the virtual geekasims they were having at now having an intact and fully functional Wraith hive ship at their disposal, Rodney and the other scientists had managed to finish building the generator and were doing some last minute testing and calculations.

By this time tomorrow Troy would be on his way back to his time period and just incase he got back and things hadn't changed, Atlantis was still destroyed and earth was still lost, or things were worse than they had been, he wanted to have the image before him burned into his mind so that he never forgot it.

Hearing the balcony doors open he didn't turn around figuring it was his mom since no one else knew that he liked it out there better than anywhere else.

"Can we talk?" Troy tensed up straight at hearing John's voice. Knowing that time was running out and that Troy would soon be gone John had decided to make another attempt at trying to fix things between him and his son - if only he knew what exactly it was he was trying to fix.

"I got nothing to say to you." Troy's tone was clipped.

"I think you do. Quite a bit to say, actually." John moved over next to his son, back against the railing.

"What do you care?"

"I care a lot. You're going to be leaving soon and I don't want things to be the way they are between us right now." He paused to scrub a hand through his hair. "I guess...I just...I don't like the fact that you grow up to hate me. I've technically only known you a few weeks, but the fact is you're my son and I care about you."

That was it, something snapped inside Troy. He couldn't hold it in any more. Pushing off the railing he stormed away a few steps putting some distance between them before whirling around to face his dad, fury flashing through his eyes. "You never gave a rat's ass about me! Not since I was six years old and mom died!"

"When she died it shattered you, completely destroyed you. I reminded you of her so much, of the pain you felt at loosing her, that you couldn't even stand to fucking look at me. Hell you could barely stand to be in the same fucking room as me! You buried yourself so far into work that sometimes it seemed like you forgot I even existed. Your job, this city, and everyone else in it always came first to you. I remember people used to tell me that things would get better, that you were just grieving, I just had to be patient, but you know what? It never fucking did!"

"Growing up it seemed like the only time I ever got any kind of attention from you was when I was in trouble and you were yelling at me! It got to the point where I purposely got myself in to trouble just so I could get some attention from you. But after awhile even that stopped working. You just couldn't deal, you gave up on me, stopped trying...stopped fucking caring."

"The only reason I am the man I am today is because Rodney stepped up to the plate when he didn't have to and acted more like a father to me than you ever did. Shit the only reason I'm even alive today is because Rodney cared enough about me to be there for me no matter what. I mean shit you have no idea how many times I actually thought about fucking ending it when I was a kid, just throwing in the towel and making the pain and the anger go away permanently. The only reason I never did was because I knew that Rodney was there for me, that any time I needed him, day or night, he would be there. Also I never did it because I didn't want to be like you. Ending it would have meant abandoning those that care about me, the way you abandoned me, just without the dying part, and I never wanted any of them to feel the way that I did..."

Feeling like he was about ready to beat the shit out of John again Troy stopped and turned to leave but something made him stop in the doorway. He had one last thing to say, "When the Wraith destroyed Atlantis, it was Rodney I grieved for, not you." The last bit was whispered so softly Troy wasn't even sure he'd spoken it aloud.

John was speechless, he had no idea what to say. Of all the things he'd expected to have happened between him and his son, none of the things Troy had just said made the list. God he'd become his own father, treated his son the way he'd been treated, the way he'd sworn to himself he would never treat his child. Thinking things couldn't get any worse John nearly recoiled backwards as if he'd been hit when he heard Troy's whispered confession in the door way.

"What can...? There has to be...something I can do to change things...between us." John, choked out, finally finding his voice. "A way to fix things."

"Last time I checked you couldn't stop people from dying or bring them back from the dead. So I seriously doubt that there's anything you can do to 'fix things'." With that Troy left the balcony.

Now even more determined to make sure things turned out differently John watched as Troy stormed off. His son may have been convinced that it was hopeless, but to John that future hadn't happened yet, there was still a chance to set things right. Even if he had to die trying John swore to himself he would do whatever it took to fix his family.

Anger burning through him with a fury, Troy barely made it back to his room before he lashed out. Rage boiled inside him, feeling like it would burst his chest open if he didn't find away to release it. He'd reached his breaking point; all the rage, anger, and a million other emotions he couldn't name exploded to the surface like an erupting volcano.

Grabbing the nearest item - a wooden chair - Troy slammed it into the wall, barely noticing as it shattered. Next went the Ancient's version of a lamp from off the bedside table, the table itself soon followed. The bed was launched onto its side, more tables and chairs were smashed; throwing, smashing, kicking, hitting, Troy did it all to what ever came with in his reach as the rage consumed him. Troy barely felt the glass that savagely tore deep into his wrist as he smashed his mirror - the last item left untouched in his rampage. His room destroyed Troy, still needing an outlet for his fury, fled the room and soon found himself in the gym.

Not bothering to wrap his hands or put on gloves, Troy began to ruthlessly batter the poor punching bag. Bone jarring hit after bone jarring hit, rattled the chains holding the bag up. Amongst all the rage, anger, and pain he felt something swell to the surface, something he'd never fully allowed himself to feel; a soul searing sorrow that cut through to his very core.

Giving one last bone shattering hit, Troy felt the punching bag rip open, spilling its stuffing out on to the floor. With the bag no longer providing resistance his momentum carried him forward, spinning him around slightly, slamming his back into the wall. Tears sliding down his face Troy slid to the ground, drawing one knee up wrapping an arm around it and resting his head there. Sitting there struggling to suck in enough air to his oxygen starved lungs, Troy was reminded of a poem he'd once heard, thinking of it now he found it ironically fitting.

Darkness boils in my blood
Its hot, bubbling anger oozes out of my pores.
I feel its need for absolute vengeance,
The fire is inside me, ravaging at me,
Plundering at my mind, obliterating my own thoughts.
The hell storm takes over;
I have become one with Darkness.
I am my own shadow nemesis;
I am the Dark Reprisal.(1)

He had no idea how long he'd been sitting there before he felt someone - he guessed Teyla by the silent and graceful footsteps - slide down to sit next to him. Troy didn't lift his head or acknowledge her in any way and she remained silent for several moments. At the sight of the trashed punching bag and Troy slumped against the back wall it hadn't taken Teyla long to figure out that the anger simmering inside of Troy had finally reached its boiling point.

Due to circumstances beyond her control Teyla had not been able to spend as much time with Troy as she would have liked, but from what little interaction she'd had with the young man Teyla could tell that he'd lived a life of hardship, filled with more grief and anger than joy and happiness. She could see inside him a burning rage, much like the one she could see in Ronon towards the Wraith, when they'd first met. With the release of his rage, Teyla hoped Troy would now begin to heal.

Troy gave a soft humorless laugh, breaking the silence first, "Marcus Antonius once said: 'Consider how much more you often suffer from your anger and grief, than from those very things for which you are angry and grieved'."(2) He quoted the Roman politician and general as he moved his head back to rest against the wall.

Teyla didn't know who this Marcus Antonius was, but she did have to agree with his words. "It sounds like this Marcus Antonius was a wise man. I would be interested in hearing more."

"Not sure everybody would agree with you, but to each there own. As for the hearing more, talk to someone in the archaeology department, they'd know more than I do." The two fell silent again.

"Some times when we are angry we have every right to be so, but we must remember that, anger is a killing thing: it kills the man who angers, for each rage leaves him less than he had been before - it takes something from him."(3) Teyla stated softly, breaking the silence this time, remembering the words her father had spoken to her when she had been a child.

"That you're subtle, round-about way of telling me I have to let go of my anger before it destroys me?" Troy didn't wait for an answer, pushing himself to his feet. "Well I gotta tell you it's not as easy as you might..." He trailed off as he suddenly felt lighted headed and was it just him or had it suddenly gotten cold in the gym?

Seeing Troy waver on his feet Teyla quickly stood, wrapping one arm around his waist and gently grasping his elbow with the other. As she steadied Troy it was then that she noticed the large amount of blood that was dripping from the finger tips of his right hand. Carefully, but with a sense of urgency, Teyla lowered Troy back down to the floor. Examining his arm closer, she found a decent sized piece of glass lodged into a heavily bleeding, jagged gash on his wrist. The last thing Troy was aware of before being pulled under by blackness was Teyla calling for a med team.

(1) - Poem is by Sylvia Wei (at least I hopes that's right. I found it on the internet so it's possible I could be wrong).

(2) - Quote from Marcus Antonius (more commonly known as Mark Antony), an important supporter of Julius Caesar and acknowledged lover of Cleopatra.

(3) - (Anger is...) Quote from Louis L'Armour