Hours later, Michael managed to fill out everything he needed in order leave. The doctors protested, but there was nothing they could say or do to get him to change his mind.

As Michael filled out paperwork, Micky slept, curling his exhausted body as much as he could on the small, uncomfortable chairs in the waiting room. After finishing, Michael carefully picked him up and kissed his forehead.

"We're goin' home."

He left the hospital, Micky in his arms, and walked out to the car. He breathed in deep, appreciating the fresh air after spending most of his time in the hospital for the past month and a half. He wished Micky were awake, but he wouldn't dare disturb his boy. He needed his sleep after what he went through.

Michael still wasn't sure what that therapist or doctor had said to Micky, but he would figure that out later.

At the car, Michael hesitated. He didn't want to wake Micky up...but he had to unlock the car and there was no place to set him down. He glanced down and kissed Micky's forehead.

"Micky? Wake up, babe."

It took a few minutes, but Micky eventually stirred in his arms, blinking his sleepy eyes at Michael. Michael smiled gently.

"Good mornin', sleepin' beauty. Can you stand up for me?"

Micky blushed as Michael set him on his feet, but was too tired to say anything. As soon as Michael unlocked the car, he crawled into the backseat and stretched out, falling fast asleep.

Meanwhile, Michael's mind wandered as he drove. He ached to hold Micky again, but he also wondered what happened to leave his boy in tears like that.

What had they said?