Lance tried to keep his mind on the strictly clinical. The entry wound to her back was gone. The exit wound to her chest was another story. Though she'd stopped bleeding, the bullet had left a hole about the size of his fist right between her breasts. Blue sparks continued to shimmer over her skin, healing as they went. He stared, fascinated. He'd never seen another Immortal's powers of healing like this before. He was so enthralled, that he only remembered the bath just in time to keep it from spilling over.

He gently, carefully, eased Natalie into the warm water. His intent had been to wash the blood and death-muck off, but his male brain, now making its presence very well known in the general vicinity of his belt buckle, said otherwise. Though the jeans she'd been wearing hadn't left much to the imagination, they'd still managed to hide creamy soft skin and firmly packed muscle. She was no gym slouch. The front of his jeans throbbed as he gently ran a washcloth over her trim waist and flat stomach. He cradled her dark-haired head against his arm as he continued to wash off the remaining blood. The exit wound was nearly closed now, but there was no telling how long it would take for her body to heal. It could take hours or even days to replace all the blood she'd lost.

"Mmmm."

Her soft moan startled him. He hastily dropped the washcloth and reached for the pulse point in her neck. The beat he found there was faint and thready. Lance knew it was just a matter of time before she came round. He quickly pulled the plug on the tub and eased his arm under her very shapely knees. Trying to keep a strangle-hold on his libido, he carried her into the spare bedroom and tucked her between the sheets of the queen-sized guest bed. Lance dug through his dresser and quickly found a t-shirt that looked to fit her and a pair of flannel pajama pants. Though he preferred to sleep in the altogether during the warmer months, there were some nights during the winter that flannel was a necessity. He added his finds to the foot of the guest bed before retreating to the bathroom for a very much needed shower. Naturally, he made sure it was a cold one.

Once he was showered and changed into another shirt and jeans, he took care of disposing of Natalie's own ruined clothes. He made sure to empty the pockets of her jeans and jacket. There was only the tiniest of holes where the bullet had gone through the back of the jacket. He set it aside thinking maybe she'd want to keep it. He knew of a good leatherworker in town who might be able to patch it up. Then again, he wouldn't blame her if she never wanted to be reminded of that again. The rest of her clothes would go into the oil drum in the back to be burned later. He'd let her have the honors, if she wanted.

In her wallet was the normal four or five credit cards, driver's license, gun permit, sixty dollars cash, with another hundred dollar bill folded into a tiny square and hidden behind her license. There were also pictures of family and friends. Her parents and sister all had light brown, nearly blonde hair and what looked to be blue or green eyes. Bruenner's lanky build, dark hair and eyes stuck out like the proverbial sore thumb. He set the wallet aside and neatly arranged the rest of her things on the table: watch, gun with spare clip, hotel card key, the keys to her Eclipse.

Lance scrubbed at his face with his hands before running them over his hair. Natalie's first death had come as a surprise. He hadn't yet made any kind of decision as to whether or not to tell her, and now there was no way he could help it. She had to know the full truth, and it looked like he'd be the one to tell her.