Bart continued to get up and walk throughout the day, despite his breathlessness. He was still stronger than he'd been in a week, and reasoned that his lungs needed the exercise in order to strengthen back to how they used to be. The doctor partly agreed with that, as they definitely needed restrengthening, but he still needed to continue reminding Bart that his lungs needed to recover before they could strengthen.

But Bart was stubborn.

"You're making yourself worse," Bret said to him as he held his brother down, preventing him from getting up later that night. "You haven't caught your breath from the last time."

"My heart is fine," Bart told him. "It doesn't matter."

"It does matter," said Bret. "Your heart may be fine, but your lungs aren't. And who says that your heart is fine? Just because it's not beating wrong right now doesn't mean that it doesn't when we aren't checking it."

Bart blinked.

Bret sighed. It was something that he'd wondered about, but it was also something that he hadn't wanted to say, knowing that it would distress his brother.

Bart said nothing, but his body relaxed and he stopped fighting his brother's hold.

Bret let go. "I'm sorry, Bart. I just don't want you to overdo it." I don't want you to accidentally kill yourself, he left unsaid.

Bart remained quiet for a minute as if knowing his brother's thoughts, before saying yet again, "I want out!" He sounded desperate.

"I know," said Bret. "But it's getting late; can't you just give yourself a rest and wait until tomorrow to get up again? Please?" He smiled slightly. "If you keep this up, you're gonna give me heart trouble."

Bart smiled slightly too. "Fine," he said. He shimmied down his bed a little so he was laying flatter. "Goodnight."

Bret patted his arm. "Goodnight." He watched his brother as he fell asleep, which happened fast enough for Bret to know that Bart had exhausted himself. With a sigh, Bret eventually got up and stood at the window, looking out at the darkened night. He understood Bart's desperation to get out of the hospital, and hoped with all his heart that his brother would be able to leave by Monday, like he wanted.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The next morning woke all three Mavericks abruptly with the sound of the fire brigade rushing down the street. Bart sat up and looked at his brother and cousin, who were both looking at him with alarm, still afraid for anything to startle Bart's heart. When they saw that he seemed all right, Beau stood and went over to the window. His eyebrows shot up. "There's a fire right across the street."

Bart started to get out of his bed, but Bret grabbed his arm. "What are you doing?"

Bart blinked at him. "I wanna see."

Bret realized that he had no real reason to stop his brother from walking the measly ten feet. "Well, just slow down, will ya?"

Bart obeyed, standing and walking over to the window.

The blacksmith's shop was in flames, and shops on either side were in danger of being affected. The fire brigade and every other able-bodied man nearby were trying to put it out.

Bret watched Bart more than the fire, able to tell that his breathing wasn't normal despite Bart trying to hide it.

Being in the hospital for so long was boring enough for Bart to be fascinated by the fire, his mind having the chance to put his attention on something other than his condition. He silently watched, not taking his eyes off it.

Beau looked at him and whispered to Bret, "Looks like we might need to hide the matches."

Bart smiled at his quip, and continued to watch.

It didn't take too long for the fire to be put out, thankfully, and the adjoining shops managed to escape damage themselves. Once it was through and everyone started to leave, Bret tugged on Bart's arm and pulled him back over to the bed, sitting him down and studying him. "How do you feel?" he took his brother's wrist to check his pulse.

"Fine," Bart said.

"Really?" Bret asked him, relieved to find his brother's heart beating normally.

Bart nodded. "I feel fine."

"You're still breathing fast," Beau noticed.

Bart shrugged. "I'm used to it now." He realized too late that it was the wrong thing to say.

Bret sighed at his words. How was his brother supposed to go about his daily life without being able to breathe properly?

"Really, Bret, I feel fine," Bart said. "Well enough to leave."

Bret shook his head and voiced his thoughts. "How far do you think you'd get before you lose your breath?"

"I can't stay here forever," Bart said, sounding desperate again. "I refuse to stay any longer."

"You said you wanted out by Monday," said Beau. "Today is Saturday...you still have one more day!"

"I didn't mean that I'd willingly stay until Monday!" Bart exclaimed.

"Take it easy," Bret said. "What would you do if the roles were reversed, Bart?"

Bart had no answer for that; he huffed and crossed his arms.

Bret squeezed his shoulder. "We'll talk to the doctor and see what he says."

"Good idea," they heard, as the doctor walked in. "I have a theory."

Everyone turned to look at him. "And what's that?" Bret asked.

The doctor held up his finger as if to say 'wait' as he approached the bed. "How do you feel? The truth," he said, before Bart could answer. "Tell me exactly what you feel, good or bad. I'll see right through you if you lie; I've been a doctor for a very long time!"

Bart smiled slightly. "I really feel okay," he said.

Bret and Beau noticed that 'fine' had become 'okay' instead now that Bart had to tell the complete truth.

"Describe 'okay'," said the doctor, checking his patient's pulse.

"No pain," Bart said. "I haven't felt my heart do anything wrong. I'm stronger and not exhausted anymore."

"And your breathing?" the doctor asked. None of them were surprised that Bart had left that out.

Bart shrugged. "It hasn't gone back to normal, but it isn't bad. It's just...fast."

"You're not getting enough oxygen," said the doctor, letting go of Bart's wrist. "And I think I know why; the thin Denver air."

All three Mavericks looked at each other. "You may not be as bad-off as it seems," the doctor continued. "The lower amount of oxygen at this high elevation could be making your lungs recover slower. You'll likely breathe better once you get far enough away from Denver."

Bart's eyebrows shot up. "This means that I can leave?"

"Tomorrow," said the doctor. "If I'm convinced that you're strong enough."

Bart smiled at his brother and cousin. He was getting out by Monday, just like he'd hoped!

TBC