Work Text:
Ripley was hurt.
Hicks raced through the station after completely abandoning his post at work. His rank was high enough, and he could deal with the little discipline. He shoved through a group of electricians working on wiring in a hallway, nearly pushed over an information executive, and hit a wall turning a corner quickly. He had to get to the loading docks - he had to see her.
From what he had heard, there had been an accident at the docks with cargo falling from a crane. He had overheard a coworker saying, “Dunno’, must've been some loose roping. Heard a worker got hurt though. That tall woman who always means business.”
He knew instantly that it was Ripley.
He had booked it, leaving his team confused and shouting his name. The cargo docks were across the station, but he made it there in less than ten minutes. When the elevator that led to the docks was taking too long, he threw open the door to the staircase next to it and practically flew down the steps. He didn't like elevators that much anymore, anyway.
Ripley was hurt, and he had to help. He had to know if she was okay.
He thought of his team back on LV-426. So many hurt, so many lost, and he couldn't do anything about it. He couldn’t save them, he couldn’t help them.
He could help her .
After bursting through the door to the docks, he immediately spotted a massive metal storage box on the floor, tipped over with machine parts scattered about. A crane hung above it, ropes torn and the platform hanging loosely. A group was crowded around someone, and Hicks bolted for them.
“Move!” He practically shouted, shoving through a pack of workers in jumpsuits.
He spotted her head of dark curls immediately. She was sitting on a box facing away from him, slightly hunched over as one of her coworkers was pressing an old cloth to her back through a torn slash in her jumpsuit. Hicks’s heart nearly stopped beating when he saw the cloth had blood on it.
He didn’t think, moving to her front and dropping to his knees in front of her. He placed one of his hands on her knee and reached out his other to touch her chin, tilting her head up to look at him.
“Jesus. Ripley, are you alright?” He said through his labored breath.
She looked fine, maybe a little paler than usual, but he must’ve looked worse. She looked him over, blinking as she registered that he was even there. Then her eyebrows knitted in concern. He realized he was sweaty, and his eyes must have been full of worry. She took his hand that had been on her chin and grasped it. She even had the nerve to smirk.
“I’m fine, Corporal. What are you doing here? How the hell did you get here so fa - ah!” She winced as the worker putting the cloth to her wound pressed too hard. Hicks shot to his feet and grabbed the man’s wrist, gripping hard.
“What the hell are you doing?” He snapped at him.
“I, I…” The man was young, his blue eyes widening. “I was just trying to help!”
“You’re hurting her.” Hicks said, grabbing the cloth from his hands.
“Hicks.”
Hicks looked down at Ripley, who’s dark eyes were serious. “Relax. I’m alright, and Jacobs is just putting pressure on it until the medics arrive.”
Hicks swallowed, feeling a strange anxiousness and rage bubbling beneath his skin. He was known for being calm and collected; he even held it together when they were being pursued by hundreds of xenomorphs. Now… he didn’t know what was wrong with him.
“She saved me,” Jacobs said, rubbing his wrist after Hicks released it. “I was under the crane when it started to fall. Ripley grabbed me and pushed me out of the way instead of running, and the box’s corner ended up hitting her when she turned away from it.”
Hicks processed the information, still breathing hard. It was as if he couldn’t catch his breath. He looked from Jacobs, then to Ripley. She was looking away from him now, wiping her forehead like the whole thing was the equivalent to a light jog around the hangar. Hicks felt a rush of emotions he couldn’t quite place. All he felt he could manage without snapping again was a curt nod to Jacobs, signaling for him to step away. Jacobs listened. He turned his attention to the onlookers.
“Back to work. I’ll take her to medical.” He shouted to them.
As they started to shuffle and turn away, Ripley looked up at him. “Dwayne, the medics are already on their way.”
“Did they stop for shitty business coffee or something?” He stood in front of Ripley, extending his forearms out to her with his palms up, waiting for her to grasp them. “They’re not fast enough.”
Ripley sat still for a moment, holding his eye contact in a way where he knew she was trying to read him. After a few seconds, she finally reached up and grabbed his arms. She slowly stood, clenching her teeth at the movement.
“You’ll be alright walking?” He asked her before taking her hand and turning to go.
“I need to be.” She told him, aiming a stern look at him. “Being carried out of my workplace is not happening, Corporal.”
___________
It had been a slow walk, but they arrived nonetheless. Ripley did her best to move steadily and with minimum movement of her arms to prevent her back from shifting. Hicks kept her hand clasped in his tightly, aiming looks of steel at people who walked in their path so they’d quickly move out of the way. They even passed the medical team heading in the direction of the docks, and once they had seen Hicks and Ripley, they started towards them.
“I’m taking her to a room. If we need you, I’ll let you know.” Hicks told them. They backed off, then followed the two of them back to medical with their shoulders slumped. Hicks didn’t want to deal with anyone else right now. He didn’t want anyone else to hurt her, even if it was by accident or for treatment.
Ripley stayed strangely silent during their trek. Once they were in a medical room, a small space with bland white cabinets and counters, Hicks helped her sit on a high stool. Then he rounded her to assess the damage. He swallowed as he took in the large tear in the jumpsuit as well as her shirt. Blood stained the clothing, and the gash looked nasty. He took a deep breath, then began gathering some supplies. He could feel her eyes on him the way he always could, like some sort of electric current was hitting him from where she sat on her stool.
“What’s wrong, Dwayne?” She asked, tone serious.
“I heard you were hurt, and I got worried. That’s all.” He muttered after a moment of hesitation. It was a shitty reply. It was all he felt he could get out. He turned back to her, but didn’t look her in the eyes. Communication was another thing he was usually good at.
Get it together, you grunt. He scolded himself.
“I told you, I’m alright.” She said, making a face as she tried to straighten her back.
“I know you are,” He said, moving behind her and putting his supplies on a table next to them. “And I know you will be. You’re the toughest person I know.”
“Then what’s wrong?” She repeated, tone becoming more impatient.
How did he word how he was feeling when he couldn’t even make sense of it in his mind? He lamely attempted a diversion, less for Ripley and more for himself. “We’re… going to need to remove these layers. Not sure if you want a gown, or-”
Before he could continue, Ripley moved, unzipping the front of her jumpsuit down to her waist and pulling her arms out of it. She reached up, grunting slightly from the probable pain, and tugged her shirt up over her head. She wasn’t wearing a bra underneath, and Hicks was suddenly looking at her bare back and shoulders.
His breath must have escaped him, because a silence enveloped them for a few moments. He stupidly glared at her wound, thinking that if he did so long enough, maybe it would disappear. She’d be pain-free and it wouldn’t be scarring the beautiful skin of her back. Still, he couldn’t help but look over her thin yet not fragile shoulders and arms, her long torso and curve of her spine. He wanted to reach out and run his fingers along her skin, gentle but enough to assure him that she was still there with him.
“What?” She said, pulling him out of his trance and shrugging a shoulder. “I’d do this for any doctor or nurse, but you refuse to tell me why you won’t let them help. So, here we are.”
He let out a guilty sigh, then began prepping a clean cloth with alcohol. “I’m sorry for being an ass. To be honest, I… don’t know what's gotten into me.”
He reached out, placing a hand on her bare shoulder. He felt her shudder, and didn’t miss the little gasp that came from her lips in their small quiet room. He held up the cloth doused in alcohol.
“This is probably going to hurt me more than it hurts you.” He told her.
“Just do it.” She told him boldly. He still felt her body tense in anticipation under his touch.
He clenched his teeth as he placed the cloth over the wound. She seethed through her teeth, shoulders hunching. He hated this, hated seeing her hurting.
“Sorry,” He said, rubbing a comforting thumb along her shoulder. He pulled the cloth back, a strip of blood staining it now. He began dabbing it clean as carefully as he could. The cut stretched from the top of her right shoulder blade, all the way to the middle of her back. “You might need stitches.”
“Just clean it, and talk to me.” She told him through gritted teeth. “Stitches after.”
He had to get it together, for her. He mentally shoved through the dark cloud inhabiting his mind as he finished rubbing the wound clean. “I heard you had gotten hurt at the docks, and it's like I went into some sort of fog. I just hauled ass. I couldn’t stop thinking of all the worst things that could have happened to you. I also kept thinking of… them .”
She knew who all he was talking about. She turned her head towards him. “How so?”
He noticed the ends of her curls sitting on her neck were sweaty. He grabbed an extra towel and leaned over to a nearby sink, dousing it in cold water. “Kept thinking about how I couldn’t help or save them, how they died, all that shit.” He reached back over and lifted the thick curls from her neck, then rested the towel over it. He felt her relax a little more.
He grabbed the antibiotic ointment, unscrewing the cap. “And I kept thinking, no matter how little or how badly you were hurt… that I could help, or save you. That I had to.”
He began applying small dabs of the ointment, but Riply didn’t flinch. He glanced up towards her, her neck still craned and looking at him. Her eyes were sadder. It was his turn to smirk.
“Come on now,” He reached forward and tucked a curl behind her ear before he could stop himself. “No doe eyes, Lieutenant.”
“I don't do doe eyes.” She looked away, shaking her head. “I think I know how you feel, though.”
He didn’t respond, only silently allowed her the space to continue as he applied more ointment on the cut.
“After we arrived here, they had taken you before I woke up. Once I did, I kept pushing to see you. They didn’t have much to tell me, since they needed to operate first. I felt like I was going fucking crazy. I devoted all of my time to Newt, but you were always there on my mind.”
Hicks capped the ointment bottle, and rested a hand on her shoulder again as she kept going.
“I kept thinking about my old crew, the marines, the colonists. Wondering why I was the one who got out, and they didn’t. Made me feel like shit.” She laughed without humor, staring at the floor and into the past. “I just kept thinking I could have done more. Now there's you, who I most definitely do not want to lose. Not just because you’re another last survivor, but because… you’re you.”
Hicks’s heart thudded against his chest as she spoke. The cut had stopped bleeding, and he was satisfied with its cleanliness. He pulled up a stool and perched himself next to her. She lifted her eyes to meet his. Her hard and analyzing stare was gone, and a strong compassion had taken its place.
A smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “The gentle marine who kept fighting for me and that little girl. You took an acid burn and still wouldn't let Bishop leave. He told me about how you resisted when he drugged you for the pain.” She reached a hand out, touching the rough skin on the left side of his face. She shook her head. “You didn't even know if we'd make it back.”
“It's you.” He said, matter-of-factly. “I never doubted you would - not for a single damn moment.”
She smiled, and he loved it. He loved her, he knew he did. He kept his eyes respectfully on her face, as her chest was still exposed boldly while her bloodied shirt sat in her lap. It wasn’t even close to being the time for intimacy; he only felt a warmness in his chest knowing she was comfortable to this extent with him.
Although, Ripley wasn’t known to be a very self-conscious person. She had chosen to go into cryosleep with an entire team of random marines in only a tank top and underwear. Hicks would never forget meeting her for the first time. Or, seeing her for the first time was better phrasing.
Him and his team had already arrived at the Sulaco and were preparing to go into cryo when she arrived with a singular bag of things. Him and the rest of the team had stolen glances at her as she tossed her stuff into one of the furthest lockers, stripped into her undergarments and then padded her way back over to them. She was all legs, and all business. Her pod was next to his, and he must have been blushing as she entered her information on her panel to match theirs, then hopped onto the bedding without a glance at any of them. Her mind seemed to both be completely present, yet far away at the same time.
He had been smitten with her since the first time he had seen her. He had somehow kept things professional, only throwing in small moments of flirtation. He sometimes got the feeling that she had feelings for him too, yet neither of them had pushed any further. With all they had to figure out after returning from LV, there never seemed like a good time.
For now, he reached out a hand towards her. She took it, and he rubbed her knuckles affectionately. “Guess we're both a couple of worriers now, huh?”
“Guess so.” She agreed, smiling down at their hands. “Although, you are cute when you're worried.”
He grinned sheepishly. Then, he tugged off his army green button down. He was wearing a brown t-shirt underneath, and he tugged that over his head too. He handed it to her, and she took it, not being subtle about letting her eyes look him over.
“Mm,” she mused. “Maybe I should throw myself under crates more often.”
Hicks raised an eyebrow at her and shook his head, laughing as he threw his button down back on, fastening it. “Easy now. I'd rather you not.”
Hicks called in a doctor, then held her hand as she got stitches. Eleven of them, to be exact. His fingers were numb by the time she was done, but he'd sit there being death-gripped by her forever if it meant being there for her.
Once she was done and the doctor had left, he helped her into his shirt. It hung loosely on her, but she tucked it into her jumpsuit, then tied the arms of the suit around her waist for the time being.
“Fuckin-A.” He said, looking her over as she stood. “Wouldn't even know you got hit.”
She tested a roll of her shoulder, the fresh bandages on her back no doubt pulling at her skin. “I don't look it, but I certainly feel it.” She scrunched her nose, yet still stood tall and ran a hand through her curls. It was a movement that always made Hicks weak in the knees.
He reached forward and laced his fingers through her hair on the side of her head, the skin of his palm resting against her cheekbone. She leant into it, looking at him with a smile and glazed eyes (which he blamed on the painkillers). He felt overwhelmed in that moment - she was still here by his side. Still strong, still standing. He pulled her forward and kissed her forehead. Her hand went to the side of his torso, and he rested his forehead against hers. She smelt of the lavender soap she had recently gotten as well as sweat. A strangely dizzying mix.
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” She told him, squeezing his side. “Take a breath, Corporal.”
He pulled back a little, lip tugging into a grin. “Sure thing. Let me get almost crushed by a crate, and we’ll see how you handle it.”
She poked his chest, keeping her finger there. Her eyes turned mischievous. “In that case, no one on this station would be safe.”
He laughed, leading her out of the room. “I wouldn’t doubt it.”