The night passed quickly with Bart sleeping well, much of his anxiety having left the previous evening when his heart had successfully handled getting out of bed and then back into it. He woke the next day to Bret taking his pulse…and there was a smile on his face.

"Bret?" Bart asked, a little groggily.

"There's been no extra beat for two whole minutes," said Bret.

That statement woke Bart all the way. "Really?"

Bret nodded.

They were quiet as Bret continued to monitor his pulse, and just after the three minute mark passed, Bret opened his mouth to announce it, but an extra beat cut him off. He shrugged and let go of Bart's wrist. "Took three minutes."

Bart smiled at that. Three minutes for anything would seem insignificant to anyone else, but for it to take that 'long' before his heart did an extra beat, it was wonderful.

A sudden snore filled the air, and they looked at Beau, asleep in a chair.

"Am I the only one of us who doesn't snore?" Bart asked.

Bret smiled ear to ear. That was the longest sentence that Bart had spoken since this whole terrible thing began. "Guess so, brother Bart."

Bart smiled. "Today's Thursday?"

Bret thought for a minute before nodding. "Why?"

"Tomorrow makes it a week," said Bart.

Bret nodded with a sigh. "It sure does."

"I want out," said Bart.

"I know," Bret said. "Soon."

Beau snored again.

"Hungry?" Bret asked his brother.

Bart wanted to regain his strength as fast as possible, so even if he wasn't, he was going to answer 'yes' anyway. He nodded.

Bret looked at Beau before looking back at Bart. He seemed to be unsure of something.

"Go," Bart said. "I'll be fine."

Bret didn't like the idea of leaving him 'alone' considering that Beau was fast asleep.

"If I need help—which I won't—I'll wake him," Bart said.

Bret still didn't want to leave.

"Go," said Bart. "I'm hungry."

Bret reluctantly stood, before looking at Beau again and nodding at Bart. "I'll hurry."

"No need," said Bart, knowing full well that Bret had not left the room for a single minute since they'd arrive at the hospital six days ago.

Bret nodded and quickly left the room.

Bart watched Beau as he slept slumped in the chair with his feet up on the bed. He snored again a minute later.

Bart spent the time looking out the window, which was altogether too far away from the bed. He hoped that he could get the doctor to move the chair over there and let him sit in it today; he needed some kind of scenery that wasn't the inside of a hospital room.

True to his word, Bret was back in record time, relieved to find Bart just as he'd left him. He gave him his breakfast and sat down to eat his own, leaving Beau's on the nightstand. Naturally, Beau woke a few minutes later from the smell of the food. He was thrilled to hear the report about Bart's pulse, and they all happily ate.

The doctor came in and was also glad at the news. "It appears that your heart may fully recover after all," he said.

A weight seemed to lift from all of their shoulders, especially Bart's. "Can I sit at the window?" he asked.

The doctor turned to gauge the distance that Bart would have to walk. He nodded. "Before you do, there are more comfortable chairs in the doctor's lounge." He stood and motioned for Beau to follow him.

Ten minutes later, they came back carrying a cushioned chair that was much easier to stay in, since the doctor knew that Bart was likely to spend hours in it. They placed it beside the window, and the doctor took a small ottoman off it and placed it on the floor. "This chair should be much better," he said.

With that, Bret and Beau helped Bart up and waited until he started to walk. Bart was still weak but seemed stronger than the previous day, and he made it to the chair with their help and sat in it with relief. His breathing was faster, as was his pulse, but it wasn't debilitating and he was able to handle it. The chair was soft and comfortable. "Thank you," Bart said to the doctor.

The doctor nodded. "Anytime."

Bart spent most of the day in the chair. It was comfortable, and a huge relief to be able to stay out of bed. After lunch, the doctor came back, and Bart's first words to him were, "When can I leave?"

The doctor chuckled. "You've make excellent progress, young man, but I don't think that's a question for today. We have to get you walking further than ten feet."

"I can do that," said Bart.

"Maybe so," said the doctor. "But not today. You've only been out of bed twice in six days!"

Bart made a disappointed face.

Beau reached over and squeezed his shoulder. "Remember what I said about going too fast, Bart. You don't want to live to regret it."

"I want out," Bart said, once again.

"We know," said Bret. "But your body has to be as ready as your mind."

Bart sighed.

"Maybe I'll let you walk a bit tomorrow," said the doctor. "We'll see how you do."

"How about later tonight?" Bart persisted.

The doctor chuckled again. "We'll see."

That evening, when Beau went to fetch supper, Bart suddenly found himself 'alone'. He wasn't literally alone, but Bret had dozed off—as neither his brother nor his cousin had slept a full night since he'd ended up in the hospital—so Bart decided to do something very, very foolish.

Quietly, so as not to wake Bret, Bart slowly stood from his chair, holding onto it and taking slow, deep breaths in an effort to keep his heart calm. When his breathing and heartbeat didn't increase too much, he let go of the chair and just stood there, making sure that he had the strength to do this alone; it wouldn't do for him to take one step and fall to the floor. If he didn't think he could do it, then he was better off sitting back down, and no one would ever know.

But Bart was sure that he could do it.

He knew that the impatient need to get out of the hospital was fueling his current stupidity—as it couldn't be called anything else—and he took a slow step, aware that neither his brother nor his cousin were beside him to help. His legs held him up, and he took another successful step before stopping, making sure that he still had the strength to continue on his own. He didn't fall and he didn't feel faint—though he did feel a little lightheaded—so he took another step.

Bart was very aware of his faster heartbeat, and he felt the extra beat that his heart betrayed him with. He stopped again and tried to take a deep breath, but it didn't quite go down all the way. He wasn't having serious trouble breathing, but it was frustrating to endure. He was too young to have a problem with his heart! He wanted to go back to the way he was!

With that thought, Bart took another step, and another. He felt himself growing weaker, but he didn't care. Beyond that, his breathing and heartbeat weren't bad enough to stop him, so he slowly continued on…until he couldn't.

Suddenly, Bart's body decided that it'd had enough, and on his seventh step, he lost his balance and fell backwards—right into someone's arms.

It was Bret.

"You fool!" he exclaimed, swinging his surprised brother into his arms and carrying him over to the bed.

Bart had no time to reply before he was placed back onto the mattress and his wrist was seized by his brother.

Bret said nothing else for a moment as he checked Bart's pulse. It was faster and gave the expected extra beats, but nothing else. He let go of Bart's wrist and looked at his brother, with a deep sigh.

Bart was breathing faster than normal, but not dangerously so. "Where'd you come from?" he asked.

"I woke up," said Bret. "When I saw what you were doing, I came this close to shouting at you," he said, lifting his hand to show his thumb and finger half an inch apart. "But then I realized that you would be startled, and I didn't want it to affect your heart or make you fall, so instead, I got up and reached you just before you tipped over."

Bart smiled slightly. "Good timing."

Bret shook his head. "But how could you do something so stupid?"

"I want out," Bart said, for the fourth or fifth time.

"I know, and I don't blame you," said Bret. "But that was really stupid!"

"I needed to know if I could," Bart told him.

Bret sighed again. He understood that too.

Suddenly, the door opened and Beau came inside with a tray. He stopped, sensing that something had happened. "What'd I miss?" he asked.

"The 'Maverick Stubbornness'," Bret replied. "Bart decided to go on a little trek without us."

Beau's eyebrows shot up and he headed over, placing the tray on the nightstand and taking the dishes off it, handing them out. "And?"

"I managed seven whole steps," said Bart, disappointingly.

"He's lucky I was there to catch him," said Bret.

"And his heart?" Beau asked Bret.

"Not bad," Bret answered. "Extra beats, as usual."

Beau sighed, but then his face brightened. "Well, cousin Bart, this is good news. You didn't walk very far, but where you did get, you got on your own, and are none the worse for wear!"

Bart smiled at his cousin's optimism.

Beau handed out the coffee cups and raised his. "To getting Bart out of the hospital!"

They clicked their cups together, and replied, "Here, here!"

TBC