"Do you have any aspirin?" she asked before he could leave. "My head's buzzing like a bad speaker."

He smiled wryly. "Not that it'll help, but yeah. I'll go make some coffee."

A few moments later, clad in the proffered clothing, Natalie wandered into the kitchen. She was still a bit pale, but seemed to be steady on her feet. Lance poured her a cup of freshly-brewed coffee before starting on a breakfast of bacon and eggs.

"How long was I ...?"

Lance glanced at his watch. It had been probably around two the afternoon before when she was shot. Given that it was just after six, that meant she'd been down for a little over sixteen hours. Natalie stared at him over the brim of her mug.

"You don't seem surprised by it."

"I wanted to tell you that something like this could happen, I just didn't know how, or when to tell you."

"Something like what?" Natalie asked, absently rubbing her forehead.

Lance pulled out a chair for her at the kitchen table, where all of her belongings were laid out. "It's commonly referred to as a First Death."

"A what?"

He sighed heavily. "Natalie, when I first saw you, I knew you weren't like other people."

Natalie opened her mouth to correct him, but quickly closed it again by taking a sip of coffee. A shy blush colored her still-pale cheeks.

He couldn't help but chuckle at her misunderstanding. "I didn't mean like that. You've been trying to figure out what my big secret is since you got here, right?"

"I don't suppose you're going to tell me," she replied, setting her mug down on the table.

"Actually, I am," he answered, which earned him a raised eyebrow. "Just like me, from now on, you are going to have one helluva time staying dead."

Natalie sat back against the back of the chair. "That's it? That's the big Arturo mystery?"

"That's part of it," he answered. "But the rest will have to wait until later."

"Why?" she asked, almost petulantly.

"We still have to find Sarah," he reminded her sternly.

"How do I know that you're not lying?" Natalie countered. "How do I know yesterday wasn't some fucked up dream?"

Lance nodded to the black garbage bag sitting next to her chair. "Best to see that on an empty stomach."

Natalie fixed him with an even glare. "I've seen bloody clothes, Aurturo. It isn't something new."

"It's different when it's your own," he answered softly.

She harrumphed and opened the bag. He saw her wince at the smell of dried blood and death, but she reached into the bag anyway. Natalie haltingly pulled out the long-sleeve t-shirt she'd worn the day before. The back was marred only by a hole and a small amount of blood, but it was the front of the shirt that sustained the most damage. Lance watched realization dawn on her as her face turned slightly green. Natalie hastily tucked the shirt back into the bag and dropped the bag to the floor, trying to keep her stomach under control.

"I... really... died..." she whispered softly, trying to comprehend what happened.