The day passed quietly, with Bart remaining asleep or unconscious, they weren't sure which. He only woke a few times, and only long enough to drink some water. His breathing was still labored as his heart continued it's uneven rhythm, but he was never awake long enough to tell them if he felt any better.

Finally, dawn rose again, marking Bart's third day in the hospital. It was encouraging that he still lived, but Bret and Beau both wondered that even if Bart's heart did recover, would it be weakened? Would his stamina be lessened and his body not be able to handle much exertion? That seemed a given for at least a short while, but the other question was his lungs; did inhaling so much chloroform cause damage to them? They'd been so worried about his heart that no one had thought of that.

It was a surprise, then, when Bret looked at Bart and saw that his eyes were open…all the way. "Bart!" he exclaimed.

Beau, who'd been asleep, jumped and nearly fell off his chair.

Bart smiled at that and chuckled, before it turned into coughing.

Bret nearly panicked to hear Bart cough, fearing that it would jolt his heart and cause harm. He dropped the towel that he was using to wave oxygen at his brother, and grabbed the cup of water on the nightstand. "Don't cough, Bart!" he exclaimed, sliding his arm under his brother and holding the glass to his lips.

Laughing had been a foolish action, as it had required air that Bart didn't really have. He drank the water in sips until it was gone, before closing his eyes and trying to get his breath back.

Bret put the cup back on the nightstand and reclined his brother back against the pillows. He looked for the towel and found that Beau had taken over waving the oxygen at the youngest Maverick, and he took it back from him. When Bart reopened his eyes, Bret suddenly realized that his skin was no longer gray. It was still insanely pale, but not gray.

Bart smiled slightly. "Morning," he said, breathlessly.

Bret and Beau's smiles could've split their faces wide open. "Morning," they both replied.

"You look better," said Beau, reaching to take his cousin's wrist to check his pulse.

Bart nodded, closing his eyes tiredly. He felt lightheaded, but it was nothing compared to the overwhelmingly thick feeling that had clouded his brain before the chloroform had started to leave his bloodstream. "How long?" he weakly asked.

"This is day three," said Bret, nearly unable to contain his happiness. Bart was talking!

Beau had relief written on his face. "His pulse isn't as bad," he told Bret.

That was the best thing that Bret had ever heard. "How do you feel?" he asked his brother. "Is your chest still heavy?"

Bart reopened his eyes. "Not as…much."

Bret looked at Beau and smiled, before looking at Bart again. "Are you hungry? Don't answer that. You haven't eaten in three days; you're going to eat whether you're hungry or not."

Bart said nothing, not surprised. He blinked sleepily.

Bret watched his brother for a minute, able to see the difference in his breathing. He was so relieved that he couldn't even put it into words. He handed Beau the towel and reached over to feel Bart's pulse for himself; it was still uneven but more steady, with less pauses and skips than before. He transferred his grip to Bart's shoulder when his brother's eyes stayed closed. "Don't go back to sleep, Bart, you've been unconscious too much as it is."

Bart reopened his eyes halfway. His breathing was still fast, but definitely better than it had been. "Sorry," he said. Suddenly, it was as if he just remembered what happened, and his eyes opened a little more. "Clyde?"

"Dead," Beau answered. "He didn't seem to want to go to jail."

What had happened seemed obvious, and Bart didn't ask anymore questions, tiredly closing his eyes again.

Beau handed Bret the towel back. "I'll go get him something to eat before we lose him." He made a face, regretting his words the instant he said them. "I mean, before he falls back to sleep."

Bret nodded. "I'll keep him awake."

Beau nodded and left the room.

"Up and at 'em, Bart," said Bret, waving the oxygen into his face. "It's not time for sleeping."

Bart gave no reaction.

"Come on, Bart," said Bret. "If you don't open those eyes of yours, I'm gonna start singing, and we both know that you can sing a lot better than I can."

One corner of Bart's mouth turned up in a mini-grin.

"Okay," said Bret. "You asked for it." He took a deep breath.

"Awake!" said Bart, reopening his eyes. He was smiling.

Bret chuckled. "Not in the mood for 'Oh My Darlin' Clementine'?"

Bart winced and dramatically shook his head. Suddenly, he smiled. "Neither was...the donkey."

Bret laughed. When they were children, they had a donkey that they'd affectionately named 'Astor'. One day, Bret had been loudly singing 'Clementine' outside, and the donkey had complained...just as loudly. Both brothers would never forget its nonstop 'HEE HAW HEE HAW'...the donkey was so loud that their father had come outside to see what they were doing to the poor thing.

Little Bart had answered, "Bret's singin' at 'im, papa!"

Their father had sighed, and answered, "Bret, we don't torture animals here." They'd all laughed about it for days.

Bart chuckled, before putting a hand on his chest when it didn't agree with his breathing.

Bret saw his brother's face get paler. "Hey," he said. "No laughing." He waved the towel harder.

Bart tried to slow his breathing down, even while still smiling at the memory. Suddenly, his eyes drooped closed.

"Hey," Bret said again, alarmed.

Bart half-opened his eyes.

"You all right?" Bret asked.

"Tired," Bart whispered, eyes closing again.

Just then, Beau came back in with a tray.

"Stay awake, Bart," said Bret. "Just long enough to eat something, all right?"

"Mmm," Bart mumbled, eyes still closed.

Beau hurried over to the bed and placed the tray on the nightstand. "Am I too late?"

"Nearly," Bret told him. He handed him the towel back and went over to the head of the bed. "I'm gonna sit you up higher, Bart."

Bart gave no reply.

Bret hesitated. He didn't want to startle his brother, with his heart being the way it currently was. "Bart," he said, lightly squeezing his arm. "Are you awake?"

"Mmm," he mumbled.

Bret was glad and slid an arm behind his brother, pulling him forward and standing the pillows up so that Bart was sitting completely upright.

Bart didn't react from the motion.

Bret then took Bart's wrist and checked his pulse, making sure that the movement didn't further stress his heart. It didn't seem any worse, and Bret sat on the side of the bed and took the tray, taking off the cover and finding a bowl of soup. It smelled delicious. "Here you go, brother Bart," Bret said. "One of your favorite things: soup."

Bart caught a whiff of the broth and opened his eyes slightly.

It was obvious that he wasn't strong enough—or awake enough—to feed himself, so Bret dipped the spoon into the bowl and brought it up to his brother's lips. "Open wide," he said, wondering how Bart would react.

Bart obeyed without protest and swallowed it.

"Good?" Bret asked.

Bart nodded, eyes closed. He was half asleep.

Bret continued to feed Bart the soup, the situation bringing back memories of Bart as an unhealthy child, and he inwardly sighed. He lifted the spoon to his brother's lips again, but Bart was motionless, eyes closed.

"Brings back memories," Beau suddenly said, as he continued to wave the oxygen at Bart.

Bret looked at him with surprise. "You read my mind." He looked back to his brother, who was obviously asleep. "Bart?" he said.

No answer.

"Bart," Bret repeated. "You have to finish this."

Bart still didn't react.

Bret sighed. Bart had only eaten half of the soup. He went to put the bowl back on the tray, before changing his mind. Bart hadn't eaten since before he'd been abducted, and that had been three days ago. He needed to eat if he was to regain any strength, especially if he was about to sleep for another full day. He squeezed his brother's arm again. "Bart, wake up."

This time, Bart made a soft noise.

Placing the bowl on the nightstand, Bret took his brother's pale face in his hands. "Bart, you can sleep all you want after you finish this soup. Come on."

Bart blearily opened his eyes halfway. He looked confused.

Bret quickly grabbed the bowl and brought the spoon to his brother's lips. "Eat."

Bart obeyed.

Bret fed him the rest as fast as possible, before Bart could fall asleep again. He actually succeeded in getting it all into him, and he knew it was because Bart wasn't aware enough to realize whether he was full or not.

Bart was asleep again before Bret even put the empty bowl back on the tray.

Beau watched as Bret leaned Bart against himself so he could fix the pillows, before he gently lowered his brother back to his original half-reclined position. "That's an improvement," he remarked.

Bret looked at him.

"Today, his pulse and breathing aren't as bad, he was awake, he talked, and he ate," said Beau. "He's getting better."

Bret nodded; everything that Beau said was true. Your brother will be fine, the reverend had said. Was it possible that Bart would fully recover with no lasting damage? After seeing Bart's improved condition today, Bret had hope.

TBC