The noise overwhelms his sense. He hates nightclubs, the all encompassing claustrophobia of the noise and lights – but that is part of what this is about. He has pushed himself past that, and now all that fills him is the sound. He came here on his own, but doesn't plan to leave that way. He needs to be used, to feel alive again, and so his path to self-destruction for tonight at least is set. He looks like a slut and dances like a whore not caring what goes on around him, not looking at what goes on around him, if he did that he would stop, he can't, he has held on far longer than ever before.
Strong arms close around him, and he leans into the touch – knowing the arms are male, but not caring past that. Part of his mind engages, with relief, know that he will get what he needs.
'look at me' the voice whispers
He looks up into a pair of blue eyes – his mind reels, in shock – no, no, he is telling himself, this isn't right
'Mac' he whispers
'Danny' Mac says softly 'let me take you home'
'No, no, I need . . . .' he tails off, having passed the point where he can even begin to describe what he needs
'Let me help you Danny'
'You, you do know what I need' as he looked into Mac's eyes, he saw, a mixture of concern, determination and love.
Love – Mac loved him. He had loved Mac, ever since he joined the department.
'too much Mac, wha . . . '
'Come on Danny, let's get you home' Mac said softly as he led him off the dancefloor