He watches the sun rise while sitting cross-legged on the ground outside the hut, a piece of flatbread brushed with lentil paste serving as enough of a breakfast to provide needed fuel. As the goats began to stir, calling sleepily to each other, he gets to his feet and goes to feed them their daily ration of grain, checking them over and brushing dirt from their coats in the usual routine.

Sharon hasn't shown up by the time the sun lifts above the horizon, nor does she appear by the time it clears the trees. He keeps one eye on the Citadel, trying to ignore the fact that he's doing it, and reminds himself that she'd been exhausted. She's probably sleeping late.

It helps when the children show up after their morning classes are done, as by that time he's taken to pacing in circles back and forth between the hut and the lake, trying to talk himself out of going to the Citadel to see if everything's all right. If she's avoiding him, well, she likely has reason. Maybe seeing Steve last night caused her to have second thoughts.

He plays with the children, and then, when he realizes he's too distracted to do a good job of that, he gives in and watches while they play with each other. He still can't keep himself from looking at the Citadel every few minutes, which means he spots Sharon and Nakia coming as soon as they're visible over the edge of the hill.

As they get closer, worry sets in. Sharon looks -- well, she looks worse than he's ever seen her, including when she was covered in smudges of dirt and blood in the underground facility in Greece, and Nakia looks as coolly regal as a carved statue.

"Hi," he manages, as they reach him. He doesn't realize how poor a job he's doing of hiding his concern. "Good morning?"

"Sergeant Barnes." Nakia's tone could etch steel.