Arctic bears need sleep. Whatever Iorek tried to imply, their bodies were optimized for living in a harsh environment, which did mean the ability to go hard and nonstop when necessary, but it also meant conserving energy whenever they could. Extreme situations aside, Lee was well aware that Iorek usually slept as many hours as Lee each night, perhaps even a couple more, and that the bear favored taking naps throughout the day.
"Sleeping, and resting, are two different things," Iorek said when Lee tried to point that out.
"Exactly," Lee answered, as if that proved his point. "You need real sleep."
"What if we sang you a lullaby and tucked you in real good?" Hester suggested.
This got a growl that would have had most people backing away from the ornery bear. Hester's self-preservation instincts, however, were on the same level as Lee's (no matter how she scolded him over the way he threw himself into danger, she was just as bad) and anyway, she trusted Iorek. A trust that had yet to be misplaces. So instead of moving away or hiding behind Lee, she just gave the bear a hard look right back.
"I've done nothing but sleeping," Lee said. "Let me guard for a bit. I'll have my Winchester and Hester's ears and we will know if there is a hint of danger. And we'll wake you if there is."
"You are still healing," Iorek grumbled back, which is kinder than what Lee feared he might point out…that the last time Lee had been left alone in charge of the camp he most certainly had not kept guard.
"I can guard everyone while you're sleeping," suggested Lyra, before Lee could protest himself, which he was most definitely going to do. He had already slept for two days; sure he felt sore still but he was on the mend and he could keep himself awake a few hours to let the bear sleep.
Iorek, who had not slept for two days, was starting to be short with everyone, even Lyra, even Hester and Pan, but he did manage to hold back his natural response to her offer, which was to laugh. He did not answer at all, in fact, which he likely thought answer enough, but it only encouraged the child.
"And the witches still haven't left," Lyra went on, "They won't let nothing bad get to us. They helped us. They saved Mr. Lee."
Iorek did not answer that either, not even to explain that the witches were part of the problem. He may have counted Serafina Pekkala as a friend, and she him, and he was grateful for her help…but her sister witches were also still around, and he felt them, smelled them, moving around the camp, and it put him on edge. To explain this would be to insult the very ones who had saved Lee Scoresby's life, and that Iorek could not do, so he said nothing.
He also did not say, though Lee and Hester suspected, that he had let himself drift down a time or two, only to instantly be attacked by his own subconscious, showing all the ways he failed and how much worse everything could have gone.
"Or until he dies," the words whispered in his mind, the words spoken by Lee's abductor, to the one holding a cane, and the man had meant the words, and there was always a chance even Lyra's appearance was not going to change that.
Lee never called Iorek on that, never suggested it was fear that kept him awake, but he likely knew anyway because his next try was, "And if you ask, I bet they'll let you sleep without dreams."
Serafina Pekkala had already offered it to Iorek. But bears do not hide from their fear, they look it in the eye and face it down. And besides, the thought of being made to sleep was worse than any dream could be. What if he did not wake when he was needed? What if this fear, this weakness, made him fail again?
"Please." That was Lee. The honest plea surprised Iorek, like an arrow finding its way beneath a chink in his armor and striking true. Iorek could scoff at offers to guard for him, and he could growl at suggestions of need or fear…but Lee was offering nothing and suggesting nothing; he was asking.
And it had been two days. And Lee was improving.
"Fine," said Iorek, and his friends gallantly refrained from doing a victory dance. "I will sleep. Do not approach me if I stir. I may fight in my sleep, and you will be hurt if you get in the way."
That was more for Lyra and Pan; Lee and Hester had had their share of battles at the bear's side, enough to know better than to approach him when he slept.
"They won't," Lee promised for them, but Iorek waited until the child nodded and said, "We won't."
Then Lee, giving the bear a hard look, said, "Ten hours."
"Four," Iorek answered instantly, recognizing negotiation when he heard it. There was no way Lee actually thought Iorek would allow himself to sleep for ten hours straight, not when Lee was still in need of his own rest.
"Not near enough," Lee answered, "If you don't think you can manage ten, try for nine."
"Can you just…decide how long you sleep?" asked Lyra.
"I can," answered Iorek, and then, "Perhaps five. You cannot stay awake much past that."
"At least eight hours, Iorek," said Hester, "That's a night's sleep, even if you could manage two nights worth. At least that. I'll keep him awake if he starts to nod."
"He needs his sleep too," Iorek argued. And then, "I will return in six hours." And he did not allow further arguing but turned and left. He moved to find a place to lie that was protected, that would protect him from outside threat…and protect his friends from him, should he awake disorientated and raw.
"Where's he going?" he heard Lyra whisper, and he heard Lee's answer, "Bears are solitary at times. He will sleep better alone."
"But he will sleep, won't he?" asked Lyra.
"As best he can," was Lee's answer, which was not how Iorek would have preferred it said, but at least it was honest and acknowledged that Iorek was a bear of his word. "Now, I'll just clean my Winchester; it could use some looking after, and you keep that pistol at ready. Try not to shoot any witches."
"Mr. Lee!" was Lyra's shocked response, likely at the idea that she would shoot a witch rather than Lee suddenly wanting them armed. Iorek appreciated Lee's actions too; Lee likely knew Iorek could still hear and that he would be eased knowing they were taking guarding themselves seriously.
Iorek found a spot where he could curl in the dark, with stone at his back and roots at his front, hiding him, and he lay down, and felt his exhaustion rise up to meet him. He could not simply close his eyes and sleep, not after all that had happened, but he felt the edges of it approaching. The nightmares were there too, he could feel them coming. Well; he would face them as a good bear should and he would win.
He closed his eyes, listening to the soothing sounds of Lee cleaning his gun, and Lyra asking questions, and the less soothing sounds of the rustle of people around who he did not know intimately, who moved like wild things. Witches.
And then came a new sound. Lee Scoresby was singing. Lee and Hester both. Iorek growled, because he did not need a lullaby, never mind the fond warmth that filled his heart at that soft sound, never mind that it did soothe.
And then he slept.
The first hours he slept deeply, as deeply as only a bear can sleep, allowing body and mind to rest and recover. The final hour, however, as he started to pull himself up from his slumber, he went to battle.
Bears do not have nightmares, they have nightwars. They face the fears they did not allow in their waking hours and they win over them. Iorek rarely had fears to face, because fear was related to regret, and regret was not an emotion true bears often felt. Bears knew what was right and what was wrong, and they did what was right. And when they do what is wrong, they own it. When Iorek killed another bear, he knew he was wrong. He did not dream about that, did not dwell, or wonder how it came to pass. Perhaps he should have; he might have known the deceit involved sooner.
When he lost his armor, that he regretted. He had acted unbecoming, tried to forget in an entirely human manner, and he failed.
When he lost Lee Scoresby, that too was a failure, and everything about it was fraught with what-ifs. The right path was obscured, and Iorek could never be sure he had found the best way, could only be satisfied that it ended as well as it did.
Was it right or wrong to not run with Lyra the moment he had the chance, leaving his friend to his fate in order to safeguard the child? Lyra would say he acted rightly. Lee, with the benefit of having Lyra safe at his side, likely would assure him the same. But a good ending is not the same thing as a good decision.
Was it right to avoid the trap and allow Lee Scoresby and Hester their suffering? Lee and Hester would say yes. Lyra never protested, except in round about ways. But if Lee had died from the abuse…would his decision still have been right?
Was it right to send Lyra Silvertongue to see battle? Iorek knew for a fact that Lee was unhappy about that, knew he would be when he did it, but did Lee's unhappiness make it wrong?
Iorek dreamed of what-ifs, all the ways everything could have gone wrong because of the decisions he made. The dreams stretched on too, time moldable in that space in-between wake and sleep. He watched Lee Scoresby die a hundred times. Watched Lyra crying and devastated. Felt his own death too, in fire and in blood, felt the full pain of his own heart torn open. Some say you cannot feel pain in dreams. That is not true. You feel it, it just does not matter to you in the same way as the waking world; there is a wall between you and the pain.
Iorek faced these deaths head on, as a bear faces its fears, with bared teeth and open claws.
Exactly six hours after he closed his eyes, he awoke with a snarl.
In that moment, had any stranger been before him, he might have gone for them, intent on destroying before he or those he loved were destroyed. No one was there though, familiar or unfamiliar.
He did not feel fully refreshed. Restless dreams make for restless sleep, and in any case six hours do not make up for two days. He felt better anyway. It was not just the deep sleep, either; facing his dreams had released their hold over him. He knew that his next sleep would be unmolested by past failures.
Lee Scoresby and Hester and Lyra and Pan were not so lucky in that regard. The witches had kept dreams at bay because they knew that to heal they needed deep rest (and even Lyra and Pan had healing to do, from trauma if nothing else). This could not be done forever, however, not without doing damage to them in other ways.
Iorek stretched, then shook his head, trying to shake free the last vestiges of dreams, to pull himself from the stupor his exhausted body wanted to fall back into. He was needed, and he was needed awake and alert, so that those he loved could afford to be weak.
He could hear them still. Lee Scoresby was still awake, still humming even. Iorek wondered if he had kept that up the entire six hours. It seemed unlikely, if only because he did not sound hoarse.
Iorek did not run back to check on everyone. He could hear, he could smell, and he knew all was well. He took some time for himself, drinking from the stream, even catching himself a fish. It was not near enough to fill a bear's stomach of course, but it was revitalizing in its own way.
"Iorek!" Lyra exclaimed when he did lumber back into the camp. The child jumped up with arms wide, intent on a hug, only to hesitate, glancing back to where Lee was propped up on some blankets, his rifle laid across his knee and Hester in his lap. Iorek was slightly taken aback by the hesitation. He had gotten used to the child's tactile affection and wondered what it meant for her to pull away.
"Go on, then," Lee said to Lyra with an easy smile, in spite of the way pain still etched lines around his eyes. "I said there's no need to jump him the moment he awakes. He's awake good and proper now."
Then Iorek got the hug he was expecting, and he was surprised to discover he felt relieved; to lose Lyra's hugs would have been a true loss. He even went as far as to gently place his own paw over her shoulder. Then he looked at Lee, who was smiling at the sight.
"And now, you will sleep," Iorek said. The smile tried to slide off, but the man was too pleased to see him to manage real annoyance.
"Go on, Lee," said Hester. "I can feel your eyes starting to droop."
"I slept for two days," the man grumbled. "I am tired of sleep."
"Sleep heals," Hester said. "And I want some of that." Which of course immediately made Lee give in, because he would always put Hester's needs before his own. Which she knew. And used ruthlessly.
"Should you sleep with a rifle?" asked Lyra when Lee looked ready to snuggle down right then and there, clutching his Winchester like some kind of deadly safety blanket.
"No," answered Iorek and Hester together, and Iorek went to take it from him.
Perhaps six hours had been pushing it; Lee was half asleep already, the moment he was given permission, in spite of all his protests to the contrary, and he grumbled incoherently when Iorek gook his gun away from him.
"You did well," Iorek told him softly, "You can sleep now."
"And then you can sleep 'gain," Lee murmured, and then, "Hate this."
"Yes," said Iorek, because what else was there to say? He could not make Lee instantly better and he could not undo what was done. Not even the witches were able to cure in a moment, though it seemed to Iorek that Lee was already much more improved than nature alone should have made him. He was sore and bruised, but most all the open wounds had closed, and the last time Iorek had checked his ribs they were doing so well he almost thought they had not been broken.
Lee Scoresby slept and Iorek returned to keeping guard. He would keep guard until he was convinced all danger was past, and perhaps even then because he had not expected the danger that had come.
Then Lee Scoresby stirred in his sleep, making soft 'nnn' noises, like protests. This happened often, and usually Serafina Pekkala would approach and quiet him.
She appeared this time too, but she did not approach.
"I think he's having a nightmare," Lyra said, not exactly pointedly, but certainly factually.
"He is," agreed the witch, and the expression she turned on the sleeping man was complicated. Compassion, perhaps, but a distanced compassion, the sadness of the long lived facing the pain of youth.
"You en't going to…going to fix it?" asked Lyra.
"I have held his dreams at bay for long enough," she answered. "Any longer and harm might be done. Sleep is the healer of the body and dreams are the healers of the mind."
"They don't feel healing, when they wake you up and make you jump," Lyra said, tone still cautiously respectful even if she very clearly disagreed.
Serafina Pekkala smiled towards her. "No, I supposed they do not."
"Dreams are the fears we need to face," Iorek said. "When a fear comes, it is best to face it head on. That is how fear is defeated."
"Maybe we'll do that…next time," Pan said.
"In the worst…in the worst you en't there," Lyra whispered to Pan, and held her daemon close. They looked at Lee, who was holding Hester, and wondered if the two dreamt together or apart.
Lee twitched, and made another noise, his whole body jerking and he blinked, opening his eyes for half a second, but they slid closed again. He was not quite woken up, no matter what battles his subconscious put him through.
Serafina Pekkala looked down at him, and loved him, and allowed him his harsh dreams.
"My sisters are leaving soon," she said, looking at Lee and Hester, so it was hard to know if she spoke to the ones asleep or the ones awake. Then she turned her head to look at Iorek. "The fire started has been extinguished. The forest will not catch." Perhaps that was admonishment there, but she never spoke the accusation. Iorek nodded his head in acknowledgement.
Then she turned around and walked out of their camp.
"Is…is she leaving too?" Lyra asked.
Iorek did not answer. He could not answer for another. Instead, he moved to lie near Lee, near enough for the man to feel his heat and the softness of his fur. And then he hummed, something soft, something from long ago memories of his own mother.
Dreams for bears are battlegrounds, and fears must be faced alone, but there is no reason a person could not have the support of his companions at his back.