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Sleeping alone, after all that, just didn't seem like an option. An unspoken agreement saw them all in the same room, with Veth taking first watch and Caleb's alarm wired around besides.
Fjord, just as unspoken a decision, was soundly in the middle of everyone else. Terrified, guilty, angry as he felt, death had taken a lot out of him to put it mildly and while the healing spells had closed up his chest and preserved warmth in his blood, he was still exhausted.
Surrounded by his friends, he fell into a deep sleep, aided by the warm embrace he knew was coming from his goddess. Though nobody physical had done it, he swore he felt someone brush back his hair and when a gentle touch covered the tear on his jaw, he finally relaxed and surrendered.
Honestly, watching his body relax, hearing that sigh come out of him made Beauregard really fucking uncomfortable, and she sat up inside the circle, hand resting on his arm and red-rimmed eyes fixed on his face. She rest her fingers where, uncharacteristically gentle, she could feel the blood move through the crook of his elbow. She didn't count, only felt and threatened any chance that there wouldn't be another.
She swallowed tightly, and she watched his eyes twitch beneath their lids.
Any tiny sign that he was alive.
She felt Jester touch her hand, and spared her the smallest glance, but it was without mask. The cleric wasn't pretending either, and Beau didn't miss how Jester curled her tail a little tighter around Fjord's ankle and rest her head on his shoulder.
Jester didn't think anyone really knew this, but in the quiet with her ear resting on Fjord's body she could still pick up his heartbeat even when her horns got in the way of laying against his chest. Her tail, just as sensitive in places as a fingertip, could feel the warm pulse in the artery going through his leg, and after all she'd known was icy rain and thunder, those assurances were a needed anchor. She couldn't sleep, but being close to him, watching the knit walls of his chest rise and fall with a healthy breath, at least she was able to rest.
Caduceus sat silent and awake at Fjord's head, holding the Paladin in his lap. His fingers cradled the sides of his jaw and supported his neck, his head bowed and his eyes closed.
He looked peaceful, but he was distant in the storm of his lingering anger, and all he could do was meditate on Fjord's breathing, on the pulse running through his throat, on the slow sound of his strong heart once again beating because of Jester's magic and Melora'a mercy.
They'd split that heart like an apple, and for all Caduceus' comfort with the violence of nature and the reality of death he felt a fresh wave of rage crash through him almost as steady and terrible as the tide when he thought of it.
Those were not natural. They were abominations, and the plundering of Fjord's life, the life gifted him by Melora herself was not natural.
Melora had sanctified the breath in his lungs and the blood in his heart and she would be the only one to decide when those precious things belonged to her alone.
Caduceus' perception, his uncanny ability to be observant, came from his ability to listen. His ears picked up the smallest sounds, like the chewing of a beetle or the thud of magically restored valves.
His ears twitched and he sighed quietly, brushing his thumb against Fjord's jaw as he turned his hearing to Her Paladin and let the rekindled heartbeat be his prayer.
Caleb sat next to Veth, and did not say anything. His eyes were closed so nobody knew that he was watching Fjord from Frumpkin, that with the cat's sharp hearing and softly purring body Caleb was curled up on Fjord's chest like a warm breastplate.
Caleb couldn't feel Fjord's own warmth through Frumpkin's paws, but he listened, and he listened, and it was better because Fjord was there to listen to.
Yasha sat next to Beauregard, hand on Fjord's shin, eyes turned to the window while her sword lay across her lap, and knowing the storm wasn't over, she listened too.
None of them slept while their captain rested, but they all listened.