title: Can't Stop
fandom: CSI: NY
pairing: Danny/Mac
rating: NC17
author: nancy
email: the_tenth_muse1@yahoo.com
feedback: yes, please!
archive: sure! just let me know!
summary: Neither Danny nor Mac can stop.

 

I can't stop screwing up. I can't stop pissing Mac off. Sometimes one and the same, but not always. Even when I'm not trying, he gives me this look, those eyes cold and burning, all at the same time and I have to look down, away, anywhere but into them. He knows it's real, knows I was in with the Tanglewood boys and it's changed how he looks at me. And the more he looks at me like that, the more I screw up. Seems like all he has to do is look at me and get pissed off, without me even doing anything but breathe.

 

*  *  *  *

 

Hurts a helluva lot more than I thought it would. I never thought it was true, about being his golden boy. I always called it a bunch of bullshit when someone called me that, but now I don't know. I remember him smiling at me and feeling warm and confident and sure of my place in the world, on his team. Like I was surrounded by an early summer sun. And now that he's looking at Hawkes like that, I'm in the deepest pit of ice and snow that I couldn't ever imagine. It hurts like a kick in the nuts and I can't breathe for the pain of it, but there's nothing I can do.

 

*  *  *  *

 

I should've kept my mouth shut. I shouldn't have talked to IAB without him. I shouldn't have fired into that crowd without knowing who the fuck I was shooting at. I could've hurt someone. Could've killed some kid who was just there to catch the train home. I don't deserve the badge anymore. Don't deserve to work there. Don't know why I ever thought I did.

 

*  *  *  *

 

He'll never trust me again. Never look at me like he used to.

 

I don't mean to fuck up. I don't. I just...I can't stop.

 

God, I just want it all to stop...

 

*  *  *  *

Mac closed the small notebook shut and set it down exactly where it had been on Danny's sofa, clearing his throat to try and loosen its tightness. He'd been there to get some clothes for when it was time for Danny to go home. The ones he'd been in at the time of the shooting were long gone into some biohazard bag, thanks to all the blood on them. Not that he'd be going home any time soon. Mac hadn't meant to pick up the diary, hadn't even known what it was when he had, but sitting on Danny's sofa, surrounded by his things, he couldn't not read it. Once he'd caught a glimpse of the strong, almost impossible-to-read scrawl inside, he hadn't been able to put it down.

That'll teach you, Mac thought with dark amusement. You've been wanting to know what's going on in his head these last several months and now you know. Be careful what you wish for.

 

Pressing a palm to his eye, Mac pushed at it until colors exploded and it hurt enough to distract from the self-accusations. The self-loathing. He now knew exactly what part he'd played in Danny's hospital stay. Not completely blind, Mac had known that Danny's recent quietness was something to do with how he'd cut Danny out of his life. Stella had given him so many glares and so many scathing insults in Greek that he couldn't have stayed blind even if he'd wanted to.

But like Danny, he hadn't been able to stop the destructive behavior.

We're a pair, Mac thought in more than a little despair. No doubt about that.

Mac pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number without even thinking about it.

"Where are you?" Stella demanded.

Mac sighed and answered, "Danny's place, picking him up some clothes."

"He's awake now, but they won't let anyone in to see him."

Mac's heart stuttered in relief. "But he's going to be okay?"

"They're doing tests to make sure there's no brain damage now," Stella answered bluntly. "So far, so good, but there's a long way to go."

If he hadn't known her so well, Mac wouldn't have her the faint tremor in her voice. "Is Aiden there?"

"And Flack, yeah."

That should be fun, Mac thought with another sigh. "All right. Thanks for the heads up. I'll be there in about twenty."

"See you then."

Mac hung up and then stood, walking slowly to the bedroom. He hadn't anticipated his first time in this apartment to be because Danny was in the hospital. He'd forcibly not thought about how he might not ever get into this apartment at all for the last several months. Since Sonny Sassone, he'd tried to think as little as possible about Danny. He'd kept contact to a minimum, all that time, cutting Danny out of his life except at work, where it was necessary. Half a protective instinct to keep himself from being drawn in any further, and half petty revenge for being kept so completely out of Danny's past. Ever since...

"Ask Danny Messer. He works for you, right? When you see him, ask him the odds of me going away. He knows all about us and we know all about him."

 

Shaking away Sonny Sassone's sneering voice in his head, Mac started gathering clothes and putting them in a gym bag. It ate at him, those words. They cut deeper than any knife ever could. It had been months since the bastard had been hustled out of the interrogation room. Months since Mac himself had walked out to find Danny standing there, waiting for him. Months since he'd stared into those pleading eyes and then deliberately turned his back on Danny. He'd caught Stella's disapproving look out of the corner of his eye, but ignored it and her, heading straight for his office and closing the door behind him.

And now he had different words to haunt him... God, I just want it all to stop...

 

Breath hitching in his chest, Mac sat down hard on the bed, struggling to keep hold of the control that had saved his life so many times. All the thoughts that had been shoved down deep assaulted him. He'd seen how quiet and withdrawn Danny had been the last few months. He'd known the other man was running the ragged edge. Had suspected that he was doing so to get attention, maybe as a call for help. Had it really been an accident? Had Danny really not seen the perp coming at him until it was too late? Or had he stepped deliberately in front of the fleeing suspect and not done a thing to avoid the gun that had fired at him? Had he purposefully not done anything to avoid the bullet that had somehow, by some miracle, lodged in his skull instead of shattering it?

All he'd needed from Mac was acceptance and respect. What he'd gotten was off the promotion grid and public humiliation from all those times Mac had called him on the carpet right out in the hall, where everyone could hear.

"Danny," Mac whispered, clutching at a sweatshirt he didn't remember picking up. "I'm sorry. I'm so damn sorry."

It took a few minutes before Mac could regain his control and draw in a complete breath. When he did, it was with the silent vow to make things right with Danny, no matter what that took.

*  *  *  *

Stella looked up at Mac's distinctive tread down the linoleum floor and immediately stopped the flood of accusatory words ready to spill out. He looked like hell. He looked guilty and exhausted and hurting, like he'd looked into the mirror for the first time in a long time.

It's about damn time, she thought, satisfied.

Keeping that thought very much to herself, Stella stood and met him halfway. "Flack and Aiden are getting something to eat in the cafeteria."

He nodded almost absently and asked, "Danny?"

"Still having tests, but I snagged a nurse and she said everything's looking up," Stella told him. "He's aware of his surroundings now and who he is, which is a big step up."

There was only the faintest easing of tension in Mac's lean frame and he said, "That's good. Any ETA on when the tests will be done?"

"You have somewhere to be?" Stella asked sharply.

Giving her a reproachful look, Mac answered, "No."

Stella took a breath and said, "Sorry. I'm a little tense."

"Really."

She snorted. "Really. Come on. Let's sit."

Nodding, he joined her on the walk back to the uncomfortable plastic chairs that lined the hall every so often. She leaned against him once he'd dropped the bag and settled into his own seat.

"How are you doing with all of this?" Mac asked softly, taking her hand.

She squeezed his hand, answering, "Better than you, I think. What happened at Danny's place that sucker punched you like that?"

He huffed in apparent amusement and observed, "I thought I was hiding it pretty well."

"To someone who doesn't know you, maybe. Now spill."

Pressing a palm to his eye, a sure sign of stress for Mac, he said slowly, "I'm a bastard, Stella. I took the worst part of Danny's life and used it against him, used it to cut him down, time and again. All he wanted was for me to accept him and I couldn't. I didn't."

It had been years since Stella had heard Mac so low and bitter, filled with such self-loathing. Not since just after Claire's death. Resting her chin on his shoulder, she whispered, "You didn't mean to hurt him."

"Yes I did," Mac said harshly. "I wanted to hurt him. Make him feel like nothing without me. Jesus, Stella, I didn't really know him at all, but I knew the fastest way to hurt him and didn't hesitate to do it."

There was no talking to Mac when he was in this kind of mood, which she well knew from personal experience. On the one hand, he was partially right, he had been an absolute bastard to Danny. But he would take that bit of well-deserved guilt and run it into the ground. It had taken him four years to go out on a date after Claire's death, certain that he couldn't live a normal life or be happy without her. And maybe that was part of the reason that he'd been so quick to reject Danny. If he shot Danny down, then he didn't have to think about moving on with his life. Going out with a stranger was no real risk, but getting involved with Danny would knock his world on its axis.

Rubbing his back, Stella murmured, "You have the chance to make things right, Mac. Don't let him get away."

"I don't deserve another chance, Stella."

"You're right, you don't."

He jerked away from her, eyes widening in a hurt look that always felt like she'd kicked a puppy to death or drowned a kitten. Mac so seldom showed his emotions that there was all the more impact when he did.

"Mac, you can't expect everything to be honky-dory between you and Danny. Not at first. But I know you and you're a good man. You know what he needs and if you'd just cut yourself a damn break for once in your life, you might get what you need, too. Claire died in those Towers, you didn't."

It hadn't seemed possible for Mac to get any paler, but he did, sucking in a breath at the soft, emphatic words.

Combing her fingers through his hair, Stella continued, "It's okay for you to be happy, Mac, I promise."

He swallowed, hard, and got to his feet, striding down the hall without a backwards glance.

Stella sighed. It was going to be a long couple of days.

*  *  *  *

It was hot outside, an Indian summer rolling over New York with an oppressive heat that seemed like it would never leave. People got vicious in the heat, far more so than in the cold, and Mac thought briefly of all the work he was leaving on the shoulders of someone else in the lab. If it were Stella there, he wouldn't think twice about it, but it wasn't. As it was, Mac only had to think about Danny lying in a hospital bed with his hair shaved off and thick bandages around his head to banish any inclination, however slight, to check in.

Leaning against the hospital wall, Mac watched the people going in and out, but didn't really see them. He pulled his jacket off after a few minutes of sweat itching down his neck and spine, then the tie. There were too many voices in his head and Mac couldn't get rid of any of them. An angry Stella. A disappointed Claire. A desolate Danny. It was a tie as to which voice was the worse, Claire or Danny.

Stella was right, in the words she hadn't quite dared to say. Claire would want him to be happy. She would want him to love someone else and have a good life. She'd be disappointed at the way he'd closed himself off. Danny was a good match for him, there was no doubt about that. Danny was normally filled with such a zest for life. He had an irreverent turn of phrase that could make a sailor blush if he wanted. He hadn't been in the least bit intimidated by Mac's moods, using humor and a New York attitude to deflect them. The thing was, Danny was also more than familiar enough with the darkness of life to be able to understand some of what Mac had gone through in his life.

Danny's good for you, but are you good for him? a treacherous voice whispered nastily. You've already driven him to an attempted suicide by perp. How much worse will it be if you claim to love him and then drive him to his knees again? He might succeed next time.

 

Groaning, Mac was about to walk away altogether, praying for a cessation in the voices in his head, when Stella called his name. Looking back towards the entrance, he found a smile on her face and his spirits lifted, just a fraction, and he hurried over to her. "What is it?"

"Danny's asking for you."

Pure terror shot through him and he stepped back. "For me? Are you sure?"

"According to the doctor, he won't rest until he's seen you," she informed him, looking entirely too satisfied. "Come on, Taylor, take your lumps like a man."

Mac couldn't help an eye roll at her, even as they fell into step. It was too short a trip to Danny's hospital room where Aiden and Flack waited, sure as hell not enough time for him to regain his composure. They each looked at him with somewhat murderous expressions, on Danny's behalf no doubt. He gave them each a short nod before stepping inside the room.

The doctor was there still, waiting for him, and ordered, "No more than ten minutes. Don't tire him out."

"I won't," Mac promised.

He was given a suspicious look, but the doctor left a moment later.

Walking slowly to the bed, Mac was shot through right to the heart at how weak and vulnerable Danny looked. The lack of glasses seemed so wrong, as did the way Danny squinted at him, clearly trying to make out who was there.

"Mac?"

Mac forced himself forward and pulled a chair over by the bed. "Yeah, Danny. I'm here. How're you feeling?"

"My head's killing me," Danny answered, eyes drifting closing. They snapped open a second later and he squinted again at Mac. "Mac?"

"I'm here, Danny," Mac repeated, trying not to sound as worried as he felt.

Danny licked at dry lips and apologized, "Sorry. I'm kinda fading in and out here. I guess they got me on the good drugs."

Mac half-smiled at the dry humor. "They better be giving you the good drugs. You need to get better quick and get back to work."

Kicking himself at the crestfallen look on Danny's face, Mac tried to find something else to say, but Danny beat him to it with, "I'm not going back to work there, Mac. I can't."

"Danny, come on. You'll get passed this," Mac protested.

Danny made a short, agitated gesture with his hand. "It's not this. I know I'll get passed this, it's..."

"Me," Mac finished softly.

Sounding desperately unhappy, Danny whispered, "I can't take it anymore, Mac. I can't...I'm sorry. I know I let you down. I should've told you about..."

Mac shifted from the chair to the bed, sitting up close to Danny when the diatribe started. He stopped it with a single finger over Danny's lips. "Your past is your business, Danny. You did nothing wrong in not telling me. You're a good CSI and one of the best men I know, period. Don't quit because of me, don't...don't quit on me. I'm sorry. Please don't leave."

Danny swallowed convulsively as Mac withdrew his finger, then asked, "What are you saying, Mac?"

Finally giving in to the long-time urge, Mac cupped Danny's face, leaning in to kiss him softly. Mac carefully rested his forehead to Danny's and whispered, "I'm saying I'm sorry. For everything. Give me another shot, Danny, please? I won't let you down like that again."

Danny's breath hitched and the arm without the IV came up to grip the back of Mac's neck. They stayed like that, wordless, until a discreet throat-clearing interrupted them. Reluctantly sitting up, Mac turned to find the doctor standing there, looking mildly apologetic at having to end the visit.

With a sigh, Mac said, "Time for me to go, but I won't be far."

"You better not," Danny replied, a hint of his old self coming through. He smiled as his lids drooped, and mumbled, "Not letting you go now."

Mac smiled in return, even though Danny couldn't see it, and bent down to kiss Danny's temple. "Sleep well, Danny. I'll be back."

Danny sighed and settled into a deeper sleep, snoring lightly.

Offering the doctor a wry twist of the lips, Mac left the room. He met Stella's inquiring gaze and nodded briefly, not surprised when she grinned broadly in response.

"Flack's gone back to the precinct and Aiden's gone home now that they know Danny's going to be fine," Stella announced. "Let's get some crappy hospital food and celebrate."

Mac chuckled and fell into step with her again, glancing back at Danny's room a couple of times until the elevator doors closed. God knew he didn't deserve Danny, or a chance to be with him, but Mac wasn't nearly selfless enough to let Danny go.

You're only going to hurt him, that voice whispered deep inside.

Mentally glaring at that voice, Mac's posture straightened and he vowed to prove himself wrong.