Summoned awake by a knock on the door, Vash slowly opened his eyes. It took him a moment to remember where he was and felt relieved he had finally slept in a bed. The sheets were soft and a fluffy blanket filled with down feathers helped keep his skin warm from the lightly chilled air. His once aching neck finally found the support it needed when his head was rested comfortably on a gentle pillow instead of awkwardly on the floor.

He felt cleaner than he had in days having taken a nice long shower the night before.

The knock sounded again, and he sat up drowsily. Then it dawned on him. The reunion was today! And that was Meryl at the door! At once he rolled out of bed like a jolt of electricity had just surged through him. Dashing around the hotel room, he undressed and quickly looked through his luggage. He knew a lot of his clothing had been left behind in the desert, but he had to find something. He didn't want to put on his dirty red coat when he felt so squeaky clean! Diligently he searched.

Aha, he thought and pulled out a bland shirt and some khakis. In his rush he put the wrong leg in his pants and had to slip it out again. How awkward it would be to answer the door with his pants on backwards…

Pulling his shirt on, he kicked his pajamas under the bed.

Another knock sounded.

Vash quickly twisted the cold door knob and opened the door. A blinding light pierced into his eyes. He squinted, trying to see the individual as his eyes adjusted. He hadn't realized he had slept so long. Bright sunlight was beating in through the windows and down the hall.

"Room service." The person told him.

Still the woman looked like a smudge to his burning eyes.

"No thanks," Vash answered, blinking vigorously.

"Need anything?" She asked.

Finally the woman came into focus. She had dark curly hair and was seeing the latter end of her life. Next to her was a cart full of towels and cleaning supplies.

"No, I'm fine thank you." Vash answered.

"If you need anything, just see the front desk," she told him. Evidently she had said the phrase often, all the fake kindness had been squeezed out of it.

"Alright," he answered, but she was already moving on to the next room.

Suddenly Vash spotted Meryl turn down the hall. He quickly shut his door and rushed into the bathroom, which was large and very luxurious. The bathroom boasted a shower and a bath tub, two sinks, a large mirror and even had those little hotel soaps that Vash had quite enjoyed the night before. And in addition to these features, a built in electric razor and hair blow dryer was fit neatly in the corner.

Vash gazed into his reflection. His hair was catastrophic, but it often was when he went to sleep with it damp. Because he had been so exhausted he had only dried his hair enough to get him by without catching a cold, making it swoop, kink, and fray in odd patterns. And unlike most people, he had two crowns in the back of his head which naturally made a large portion of his hair stick up from his scalp.

He reached for the bottle of hair gel (that had been provided by the hotel and had the name Novinian embellished on the cap in navy blue lettering) and squirted a large amount into his hands. He rubbed his palms together, warming up the gooey substance with his movements. Lightning speed, he brushed his fingers through his golden hair, wiping his palms along each strand. Already his hair was looking better, but he still needed more gel. After repeated squirting and fingering, his hair was standing on end, making him feel a little better about his appearance.

Then he frowned. His sunburn was awful and it had left pale circles around his eyes because of his sunglasses. That road trip had been horrible to him.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

That was Meryl.

Vash rushed to the door and pulled it open. The small insurance girl was carrying various bottles and supplies, one, Vash noticed, was pomade. In a very conscientious and business like manner, she helped herself inside his room.

"Good morning," Vash said cautiously, unaware of Meryl's mood today. He considered the fact that she might be rather stressed with the reunion today- he was.

Her lavender eyes ran across his face and then his figure.

She didn't look like she was in a bad mood, Vash noted. Remembering last night, he shifted awkwardly.

"You aren't planning to go to the reunion like that, are you?" Meryl asked skeptically.

Unfortunately, the answer was yes. All other forms of clothing had been buried in the middle of the desert, save for his pajamas and melted red coat, and personally, he didn't see anything severely wrong with the outfit. His pants didn't have any holes, and his shirt was clean.

Meryl unloaded the supplies on top of the mattress, which looked like it had been through a war zone with its tangled sheets. She held onto, however, a black plastic bag. She hesitated, squeezing and twisting the handle in her palms.

The outlaw was still trying to decide on an undefined answer, when Meryl plucked up her courage and turned back to him, bag opened wide. Curious, Vash slowly submerged his hand. The contents felt soft as he grasped the fabric. Introducing it to the air, he realized with surprise that the small insurance girl had bought him a shirt. Clearly, she had picked it due to the fresh aqua stripes which complimented Vash's eyes perfectly.

"I think it's the right size… but if it isn't I'll need to take it back in the next few hours." She explained.

With stealth, Vash casually fingered the fabric, looking for a price tag. After going over its surface he concluded that Meryl had already removed it.

"You took off the price tag," Vash said, "how will I know how much to pay you back?"

"It's a gift, broomhead."

Vash itched to smile, but forced his face to remain still. What was going on? First she hugged him last night and now she was buying him gifts…?

"Thank you." He said sincerely.

Maybe I should kiss her now, he thought. He blushed at the idea, but it was well hidden behind his sunburn. He fingered the shirt in anxiety.

"Now let's do something about your hair." Meryl said, changing the tone.

Vash's eyes darted from the shirt to her face. "What's wrong with my hair?"

"Nothing if you want to look like a broom, come on." She grabbed several bottles piled on the bed and entered the bathroom.

Slightly disappointed, Vash followed. What in the world would she do with his hair? He personally liked it just the way it was, broom-like or not, and he couldn't do much else with it at this length.

The light in the bathroom was bright white, giving anyone who walked into it the opportunity to explore every flaw of their body. As he entered, Vash suddenly felt self conscious in the presence of Meryl.

The small insurance girl found a simple backless chair in the corner. Unlike the chairs at their last hotel, this one was whole and stable with a nice bit of cushion. She plopped it down in front of the mirror and directed the outlaw to it.

Vash sat down, staring at his reflection again. The tube of gel supplied by the hotel was still on the counter and he wondered why he had even bothered using it for his hair. Meryl looked determined as she studied his reflection in the mirror, maybe with her female touch, a new hairstyle would be conceived upon his scalp, and maybe she would have better luck with it than he. Rubbing pomade on her hands, she set off to work. Her fingers brushed though Vash's blonde hair thoroughly. Once in a while they would get caught, but gently worked their way through with a few minor tugs on his scalp. As she continued, slowly Vash's thoughts drifted away. He could smell Meryl's perfume, a delicious fresh feminine smell. Was it possible the Priest was right and that she did like him?

"That's odd," Meryl said out loud. For a moment Vash had an eerie feeling that somehow Meryl had read his mind, but then the small insurance girl added, "Vash, you have two crowns."

The outlaw sighed. "Yeah, it's horrible- always hard to work with. My hair sticks up a little even when I don't do it."

"I've never seen someone with two crowns," Meryl said with a small smile. She reached over him to the counter, her body just centimeters away from rubbing him. Vash looked away, embarrassed of his thoughts. She must have missed him. Never could he remember her being so kind, giving, and close.

Meryl grabbed the container of pomade. "Don't worry," she told him, "I can fix that."

His thoughts had already wandered so far that he was about to ask what when he felt a huge cold glob land on the back of his head between his crowns. Immediately it began to drip down his scalp like honey. He shivered.

Meryl went back to work, warming the substance with her hands and distributing it evenly in the back. Her hands worked quickly and after a few minutes she was looking frustrated in the mirror.

Then she began styling with his hair gel where Vash's hair had already dried in big clumps. If she kept this up much longer, he would be going to the reunion with dreadlocks. When they reached a hair style that looked like Vash was sporting three Mohawks, the outlaw let out a laugh.

"It's difficult, isn't it, Meryl?" He asked,

Meryl only glared before her reflection disappeared out of the mirror.

"If I grow it out longer it stays down," Vash explained. "Otherwise it's sticking up."

Vash heard the bathtub facet running with water. Meryl was filling something up.

His fingers skimmed the surface of his hair, the pomade had left it rock solid and shiny. It felt disgusting.

Then before he knew it, a waterfall was relieving itself over the top of his head. He couldn't see anything and some ventured into his mouth. He felt the cold substance rush down his chest, back, and shoulders, soaking his shirt. The water was dripping off his hair onto the tile floor. He spit what had entered his mouth and then pushed back the wet hair covering his eyes. He had to admit, the coolness was refreshing on his sunburn, but still, the whole event was uncalled for. Why in the world did the small insurance girl pour a container full of water over his head without any sort of warning?

"Spike it," Meryl demanded in a bitter tone. She was holding a small empty bucket the hotel supplied in case its customers wanted to get ice from the ice machine.

Vash wiped more water from his face.

"Hey, that wasn't very nice!" He frowned.

"Spike it!" She said again.

Vash thought of accusing her further for her rash tactics, but when he glimpsed her impatient expression in the mirror, he decided not to push her. He didn't want to have to go to the reunion pretending to be married on a bad note.

Meryl stared at him, irritated with his wild hair. Her free hand was placed on her right hip while she sat into her left. Vash's broomhead hair couldn't be any less like a doctor; unfortunately she would have to endure possible comments and snickering on the matter.

Wet, the blond looked stunned and indecisive. Slowly the incident seemed to reach his brain, and without further words, he reached for a navy blue towel. He threw it over his head and rubbed vigorously, letting the cloth absorb a mix of water and pomade. Then he dropped the towel on the tile to absorb the small puddle underneath him. He reached for the built in hair blow dryer. Drying his hair efficiently, he grabbed a small navy blue comb (supplied by the hotel). As he continued his procedure, Meryl grew steadily more interested in his style. His movements were everything between sad and humorous, they were succinct and diligent. She was sure he could do his hair with his eyes closed, but he never would because he was a gunman. Each movement he made caused him to appear more like an outlaw and less like a mundane human being. He stroked the comb through his hair with both precision and speed. He squeezed a perfect portion of hair gel in one grasp. He rubbed his palms together with intensity. And he distributed the substance up through his hair in habitual patterns. Meryl could not help but be soberly amused with his tactics as the outlaw finished the last few touches. He pulled out a few strands of hair in the front and slammed the comb on the counter as if calling out time!

He looked in the mirror for his overall appearance. Yup, he decided, same style for over a century. Then his eyes moved up to Meryl's in the mirror for approval. She was standing behind him, and to his relief, most signs of irritation had disintegrated. In fact, she looked a little impressed, Vash thought smugly.

"I'm done." He announced.

"Good, now we can take care of that terrible sunburn." She said and disappeared out of the bathroom.

Was there a way to cure sunburns? Vash wondered, staring at his terrible raccoon eyes.

Meryl returned with a small bag. After putting it down on the counter next to the navy blue comb, she unzipped it, revealing its contents.

Vash blinked as she pulled out a tube of some sort of skin-colored substance. He glance back into the bag…lipstick…mascara…and other foreign objects.

"Wait…" Vash started as Meryl took the lid off of the substance. "Meryl, your not putting make-up on me, are you?"

The $$60 billion outlaw sounded nervous, but Meryl ignored the irony and began to rub the thick lotion-like paint on his face. To Vash's surprise the chill gooey liquid soothed his aching skin, but wearing make-up was taking life a little too far.

"I appreciate your concern…but I don't think this is necessary," he said cautiously.

"You look awful," Meryl said brusquely.

"For some reason I have a feeling that people are going to be a little more disturbed when they see a doctor wearing make-up." Vash pointed out.

"No one will notice, I promise. See for yourself." She stood back, giving the outlaw a clear view of his reflection. The effect was enthralling. He still sported a sunburn, but he no longer looked like he was wearing invisible glasses, instead the skin slowly faded into a paler pigment. He could feel the extra coat on his skin, but was unable to detect where it started and ended visually.

"Do most doctors wear make-up?" He asked.

"You're wearing it whether or not you like it," Meryl growled. "And don't try to wipe it off or you'll just make it worse," she added seeing his strategizing eyes.

The outlaw frowned as she retreated to his other side. Stepping on the wet towel, she began to apply more foundation. Vash could smell her perfume again as her soft fingertips skimmed across his cheek. Maybe the Priest was right, he thought again, maybe she did like him. They were so close that if he accidentally slipped he could have easily told the Priest they had had jello for breakfast. Or, he told himself, she's just trying to cover up my sunburn and being a female, she is much more talented in that area of life. Anyway, she had finished now and the moment to accidentally slip had passed.

"There," Meryl sighed. "That looks a lot better, whether or not doctors wear make-up."

"Anything else?" Vash asked. "Am I presentable yet?"

Meryl could tell Vash was starting to grow restless, either that or he was still resenting the idea of wearing foundation.

"I just need you to try on that shirt. If I have to exchange it, I need it before I go."

Vash's eyes turned to the black plastic bag on the counter, but he didn't move. Was Meryl just going to stand there while he changed?

Maybe I should kiss her, a brave voice said in the back of his mind.

Are you an idiot? If there are any wrong moments, this would be the wrongest of them all! I wasn't planning on ever kissing her anyway! …well, not entirely.

"I'll be outside," she said, "I brought over those pictures and business cards."

Frozen, Vash waited until the bathroom door closed, then he stood up to lock it. He didn't expect Meryl to suddenly burst in when he had his shirt off, but he always locked the door as a safety precaution. He was an outlaw after all.

"Vash?" Meryl called. "Don't get any make-up on it."

He wondered if she was snickering behind that door.

Vash's new shirt was smooth and brought out his eyes just as he had expected. In addition, he felt quite relieved to be in dry clothes.

"Oops."

Meryl knew immediately that the phrase oops was the worst one to hear from the outlaw. She came to the bathroom door as Vash spoke again.

"Meryl, I just got make-up on the collar," he whined.

"Vash! I told you to be careful!" Meryl chided. She reached for the door knob, but the broomhead had locked it. "Let me see," she demanded.

Hearing the door click, she stepped back as the blonde revealed himself.

"Where is it?" She demanded, rushing up to him.

Vash smiled. "Had you, didn't I?" He asked.

Lowering her eyebrows, Meryl sent him a glare. Didn't he understand how important this was? All her old friends were going to be there, the last thing she needed was a dumb blond posing as a doctor with make-up smeared on his shirt. She sighed.

"That's not funny, Vash." But nonetheless he looked proud of himself as she began circling around him examining the shirt.

"We're pretending to be married, I'm supposed to be a doctor, we're using pictures that come with picture frames, fake business cards, my name is Mark and you're asking me to take this serious?" He asked quite calmly.

"This isn't about what we're using. Vash, I'm going to see everyone I grew up with, all my friends!" Meryl reminded.

"Ex-boyfriends?" Vash asked curiously. He had heard odd stories about women trying to outlive their ex-boyfriends by making their lives appear perfect, he had also heard it was because they couldn't quite get over them.

"I never had a boyfriend in high school," Meryl said, sounding exasperated. "But the point is that everyone is expecting to hear about all our accomplishments and what we've done with our lives! Without all this I'll look like a nobody!" She had finished circling him now and was straining to look into his halcyon eyes.

"You're Meryl Stryfe. Isn't that good enough? It's good enough for me."

Meryl's eyes rushed away from his. They returned to his button up shirt, where it was safe. "Your shirt looks fine" she said, in a tone that couldn't have been less convincing. "The pictures and business cards are on your bed. Vash… I still need to get ready." She turned away from him. "I'll be back to pick you up."

The door closed behind her.

Author's note: The next chapter is the beginning of the end. Finally they'll reach the reunion. I don't think you'll be disappointed. Thanks for reading!