Title: Madness
Author: stellaluna_
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Danny/Mac.
Summary: Danny has a talk with Mac. Post-ep for "Happily Never After".
Disclaimer: None of these are mine. Characters are the property of Anthony Zuiker, Jerry Bruckheimer Television, CBS, and Alliance Atlantis.

***

Nothing, not a thing in the world, can make it better. Mac knows this, but when Danny shows up on his doorstep, swaying back and forth with glassy, unfocused eyes, he asks him in anyway. He brushes close to Danny as he reaches past him to close and lock the door again; this close, Mac can smell an uneasy mixture of booze and sweat on Danny's skin, and he's already clocked the days' worth of beard growth and the pockets of sunken, dark flesh under Danny's eyes, how the lines on his face have seemed to sink deeper into his skin just since Christmas.

"I got a bone to pick with you," Danny says. He doesn't turn to face Mac, just stands where he is and stares across the room.

"Oh?" Mac says. "Let's hear it." It's been weeks, months even, since they've gotten into any kind of disagreement, so he can't guess what may be on Danny's mind.

"Yeah," Danny says. "Why do you think I came all the way out here to Brooklyn in the middle of the fucking night?"

Mac can think of several reasons, but it doesn't seem prudent to voice any of them right now. He walks around Danny so they're facing each other, and says, "What's the problem?"

"I know why you brought me in on the Leslie Wright case," Danny says. "You think I'm stupid?"

"No, I don't," Mac says. "You want to fill me in on why I did that?"

"Don't give me that. Don't..." Danny pulls one hand out of his coat pocket and points at Mac. "Don't act all innocent, not when we both know how you operate. You brought me along so you could keep an eye on me, so you could make sure I wouldn't fly off the handle and do something even stupider after everything that happened." The words pour out in an angry rush.

"Danny -- " Mac begins.

"What, are you gonna deny it?" Danny asks. "For Christ's sake, at least be man enough to look me in the goddamn eye and tell me you don't trust me in the field."

"But I do trust you in the field," Mac says. He tells himself to be patient, to not lose his temper in return. What Danny's saying right now isn't about him, or about the two of them, not really.

"Bullshit."

"It's not bullshit," Mac says. "Since you claim to have such a great understanding of my decision-making process, stop and think. If I didn't trust you to do your job, I would have pulled you out of the field entirely, not brought you in on a high-profile case."

"Is that so?" Danny says. His voice is still raised, but Mac can tell that he's beginning to slow down; for the first time, he looks more puzzled than angry.

"Yes," Mac says. "Did you feel like you were on a short leash while we were investigating? Like I was breathing down your neck the whole time?"

"No more than usual," Danny says, and looks away.

Mac waits, but Danny doesn't say anything else, and he's still swaying where he stands, still off-balance. Mac sighs. "Why don't you sit down?"

Danny stands still for a moment or two longer, then walks forward and collapses heavily on the couch. "Jesus Christ," he says.

"You want a glass of water?" Mac asks. "Maybe some coffee?"

"No."

"I think you could use some." Danny doesn't respond, and Mac sits down on the other end of the couch. "How much have you had to drink tonight, anyway?"

"One shot of whiskey and a couple of beers, no big deal," Danny says, then adds, "And some of the painkillers left over from when I broke my hand. I think that's what really knocked me for a loop."

"What?" Mac sits up straight, feeling his heart start to beat faster. "That's not -- we need to -- "

"Settle down," Danny says. "We don't need to do anything. I only took two, and before you ask, no, I don't make a habit of this."

"Why did you take them?" Mac asks. He still wants to do more, to drag Danny to the hospital or at least to the bathroom to vomit, but he'll just have a fight on his hands if he tries. "Has your hand started giving you trouble again?"

"No," Danny says. "I just thought..." He pauses. "Nothing. I wanted to see if it would be a fun high."

"Bullshit," Mac says.

Danny looks down at his hands. "I just need to sleep, okay?" he says. "I'm in dire need of sleep and I just...I can't. It's getting to me."

"I know what that's like." Mac thinks of the way nights can drag on and on, of days when the world is gritty and strange and too bright around the edges.

Danny glances over at him. "Yeah, I guess you do," he says.

Mac doesn't say anything, and Danny goes on, still staring at his hands. "It's not even working," he says. "It's not making me feel sleepy, and it's sure as hell not letting me put anything out of my mind. I thought...I kept thinking about how fuzzy the painkillers made me back when I was taking them for my hand. I thought maybe that'd happen again."

"It's not?"

"It is, but..." Danny bites his lip. "Everything is still there, you know? It's just far away right now, like I'm looking at it on the horizon or underwater or something. I can't touch it. Like, I don't know, like phantom limb pain. It's there, but it's not really there, so I shouldn't feel anything. But..." He lifts his head. "But what can you do?" he says, half to himself.

"I don't know," Mac says. He has nothing to offer that can make it better, no lie that either of them will believe, and he's sure that Danny knows that as well as he does, so he doesn't try. "I don't see how you could stop feeling it, painkillers or no."

"Yeah." Danny tips his head back so that he's staring at the ceiling. "I'm not myself," he says, and his voice cracks. "Just like that Mad Hatter guy said. I'm not myself, I'm afraid."

"We're all mad here," Mac says, before he can stop himself.

Danny laughs suddenly. "Yeah, no kidding," he says. "You don't know the half of it." He looks over at Mac again. "Why did you bring me on that case with you?"

"Luck of the draw," Mac says. "Your name came up in the rotation."

"No, it didn't," Danny says. "Don't try to bullshit me, Mac. It's too late for that."

"Okay," Mac says. He wonders what kind of minefield he's about to willingly walk into. "It wasn't just coincidence, but it wasn't because I didn't trust you, either. I thought it would be a way for you to keep busy. I knew it wouldn't let you forget, but I hoped it would make it possible for you to get through the day a little easier."

"Yeah, guess it worked," Danny says. "Much as it could. But, Mac, come on. That would have been true of any case I worked right then. There was no reason it specifically needed to be the same one you were already on."

"Maybe I wanted to make sure you were keeping busy," Mac says. He and Danny look at each other.

"Well, aren't you the smart one," Danny says.

They're both quiet for awhile. "Danny," Mac says at last. He doesn't know if this is a good idea or not, or if it will even mean anything to Danny, but he doesn't know what else to do. "I'm going to say this once. You may not want to hear it, but I hope you'll listen."

Danny's shoulders tense up. "Oh, this should be good."

"You didn't do anything wrong that day at the bodega."

"What? Get the fuck outta here. No." Danny starts to get to his feet, shaking his head. Mac catches his arm.

"Let me finish." Danny won't look at him, but he doesn't try to pull away. "You made a split-second judgment call to the best of your ability. You didn't have time to sit down and think it over. You didn't act neglectfully or irresponsibly, and you don't know that doing anything different would have changed the outcome."

"That's not true." Danny shakes his head again, still not looking at Mac. "If it were, Ruben wouldn't have -- wouldn't be dead."

"You can't know that," Mac says. "That's the point. Even when you make the right choice, you don't know what the repercussions will be. I know that doesn't ease the guilt, but keep it in mind. There are no guarantees."

Danny looks at him. His eyes are sharp, focused now, and lost. "That's pretty fucking bleak," he says.

"Yeah, it is."

Danny pulls his arm out of Mac's grip and sits back down. "Great."

They fall into silence again and sit there without talking. Danny stares with wide-open eyes at the ceiling, maybe watching the patterns cast by headlights going by as Mac listens to the traffic and Danny's breathing and counts his own heartbeats.

"I should go," Danny says eventually, and begins to get to his feet. His balance is bad, and he stumbles before he even takes a step.

"Danny." Mac stands with him.

"What?" Danny says.

"It's just...look," Mac says. "You're in no condition to ride the subway. I thought you came over here tonight for a reason."

"What, to yell at you?" Danny says. "Mission accomplished. I already did that."

"Not to find some distraction?" Mac asks.

Danny's eyebrows go up. "Okay, maybe that too."

"So stay and sober up."

"Fine," Danny says, after what feels like a very long pause, and starts to shrug out of his coat. "Not like I got anywhere else I need to be."

Danny consents to a glass of water, and they sit and watch TV, a nature documentary that both of them have seen before. They don't talk much, but Mac thinks about other nights like this, nights after Drew Bedford had been arrested and the 3:33 a.m. phone calls had stopped. He and Danny had fallen into a pattern of spending most of their evenings together, watching TV and usually drinking until it got late enough to go to bed. Late enough to forget. Nothing they hadn't done plenty of times before, but those nights after Drew Bedford had been different in some fundamental way that Mac can't get a handle on. He'd been aware of that at the time, but he'd tried not to focus on it.

Now it's on his mind again as he watches Danny's face lit by the blue glow of an underwater scene. He still can't figure it out, so he goes back to counting his heartbeats, to watching the steady rise and fall of Danny's chest.

He's not surprised when Danny's fingers brush his thigh. It's very easy then to turn to Danny and kiss him, to let his hands move over Danny's face and for Danny to push one knee in between his legs. The kiss is warm and deep, Danny's lips rough against his, and Mac pulls him closer, gasping when Danny drops one hand to his belt buckle and pushes his knee higher.

They slide off the couch and sink to their knees in front of it, kneeling together, still kissing as they fumble with each other's clothes. Danny's skin is feverish against Mac's and his heart beats jackrabbit-quick beneath Mac's fingers as he strokes a slow hand down Danny's chest. He sighs into Mac's mouth, a breath that's almost a word, and pushes his pants down, not bothering to tease before he wraps his fist around Mac's cock, tightening his grip until Mac groans and then sliding his hand lower to cup his balls.

Mac pushes his tongue against Danny's and gives his cock a few quick strokes before he reaches around to his ass. Danny lets out a groan and rubs himself against Mac's hand, and Mac works his fingers slowly into him, feeling Danny open even as the rest of his body goes tense and his kisses get wetter and more frantic.

He has three fingers inside Danny and their bodies are tight together when Danny breaks off the kiss and turns around. Still on his knees, he braces his hands against the couch and bows his head, spreading himself out open and pliant. "Please," he says in a hoarse voice, and Mac holds him by the hips as he thrusts into him, moving his teeth over the back of Danny's neck until he's all the way in and it's so hot and he's so close to the edge already that he has to stop and gasp for breath, has to count to ten in his head until he can move without coming on the spot.

They move together, and once they're deep into a good rhythm, Mac works his hand around to Danny's cock. Danny has already brought one hand down and is jerking himself off with hard strokes. Mac wraps his fingers around Danny's and Danny squeezes his hand tightly, and then they stroke him together, fingers moving up and down the stiff shaft of his cock as Mac keeps rolling his hips, thrusting into Danny as far as he can go.

Danny moans when he comes, and then Mac presses his mouth to the back of Danny's neck, shuddering and gasping helplessly. Danny's hand is still tight around his, and another series of spasms rocks Mac's body as Danny lifts his hand to his mouth and licks it clean, kissing the palm and nipping at the tips of his fingers. He bites his lip so that he won't cry out, and then it's over and he's sprawled against Danny's back and both of them are breathing hard.

They move back up to the couch and lie there, Danny's back against his chest and their legs together. The room is quiet and cold and the nature documentary is still playing out, on mute now, on the television. Mac watches rain fall on a mountain and tightens his arms around Danny. They should go to bed, but he doesn't want to move yet, doesn't want to let go of him.

"I came over here to pick a fight, and it didn't even happen," Danny says, and he finally sounds sleepy. "Must be some kind of goddamn miracle." He puts his hand over Mac's.

"Must be," Mac says.

"I'm not myself," Danny says, and the words are cut off by a yawn halfway through. "I'm not myself, I'm afraid. How 'bout you?"

"I'm really not sure," Mac says. Danny yawns again and doesn't move, and even though the room is starting to get cold, neither does Mac. He holds Danny close and rests his face in the curve of his neck, and wonders when they started giving each other the benefit of the doubt.

***