Title: From the Last to the First
Author(s): Hiddencait
Fandom(s): Aliens
Pairing(s): Ripley/Hicks
Word Count: 25,978
Rating/Warnings: M for smut and some mentions of violence against a child (off screen)
Beta: Askita
Summary: Ripley, Hicks, Bishop, and Newt have survived the hell on LV-426, and they wake from hypersleep thinking they're home free. However, with a sudden invasion of a squad of marines, a company bitch, and one intimidating agent, the new family finds themselves taken into custody and under investigation for half a dozen crimes Weyland-Yutani claims they've committed. They'll need the help of old allies and new friends if they ever want to free themselves and find something like home.
Author's notes: This has been such a delight and a challenge. I'm still thinking I'm crazy for attempted my first BigBang with a fandom I'd never written in. But hey, we're all mad here anyway. Hope you enjoy it my dears!

BTW, be on the look out for quite a few cross-fandom cameos. Why create side characters when I can borrow them from other places? *grin*

And no, I don't own ANYTHING from any of the cannon in any of the fandoms that you recognize. And that makes me sad.

XXX

Prologue

Though exhaustion was beginning to cloud her vision, Ripley didn't look away as the chamber closed down around Newt's tiny form. She just stood there, a tired smile on her face until the little blond miracle of a survivor finally drifted off into the depths of hypersleep. The blessedly dreamless depths of hypersleep. Newt might have asked if she could dream, but really, it would be almost be better for her, Ripley thought, to have the experience of falling asleep and waking without nightmares, artificial though the process might be. At this point, Ripley would just hope for anything that might keep her little girl from being utterly terrified of letting herself rest.

Her little girl, Ripley thought. The words in her mind both soothed her soul and damn near ripped it to pieces. An image of another little girl and the twelfth birthday her mother never got to spend with her wavered like tears in front of her mind. Ripley had to turn away from Newt's chamber or dissolve into sobs at the memory of Newt's relieved cry of "Mommy."

Fighting to keep that grief from burying her relief that at least this daughter had survived, Ripley busied herself with making one last round of checks throughout the ship. It was lucky she had as much experience as a flight officer as she did; Bishop had been in no shape to pilot much of anything, literally in pieces as he was. Not that it had stopped the synthetic from trying, though. She'd appeased his apparent need to aid the other survivors despite the wreckage of his body by allowing him to walk her through to process of setting up the nanite repairs in his chamber. Ripley had actually needed the help withthat system, after all.

She'd also needed to get the wounded synthetic out of sight for a while, to try to banish the image of half of him covered in his own fluids and clinging to the floor and Newt with every bit of strength his upper body had left. Ripley didn't want to like an android just on principle, but fuck if she didn't admire at least one despite herself. It was a little easier to face Bishop now that he was carefully cleaned up and tucked away, hypersleep leaving his face relaxed and almost serene. She tapped the top of his chamber almost affectionately and then turned to face the third chamber, the one next to her own.

There was no one awake to hide from, and she allowed herself to linger awhile as she stared down at Hicks' slumbering form, letting the sight of him ease some of the twisted thoughts and emotions within her. There was nothing about the man in this chamber that set her ill at ease, and that alone would have made her more than a little uncomfortable if she'd been alert enough to really comprehend it. It didn't, though, not now. Not enough to matter, anyway, not with Hicks alive and as well as could be expected, with his handsome face and smooth muscled chest swathed in too many gauze bandages to count. He'd be fine, she told herself. He had to be. She needed him to be, needed him to give her that glimpse of something like a future. Something like a family, maybe.

She didn't really know what else to call that comfortable partnership they'd already started building. Ripley just didn't have a frame of reference for it. Truthfully, she hadn't spent anywhere near as much time being a wife as she ever had being a mother. Her ex had barely been a blip on her radar of priorities during their marriage, but then again, while flatteringly attentive during their courtship, he'd never shown even a fraction of the admiration and respect her Marine had already demonstrated. And yes, she and Matt had spent enough time in bed to produce their daughter, but they'd never had anything like the heat she felt from Hicks with just a look alone.

Ripley prayed to whatever deity might be listening, that he'd heal enough to keep giving her that look. That they'd have a chance to find out whatever was or might be between them, and that she'd have time to work through her own insecurities. She stroked the lid just above his face, admitting to herself in the easy haze of exhaustion that she wished it was skin beneath her fingertips. If she had her way, it would be soon enough. She stroked the panel by his cheek again, and then pulled herself reluctantly away as a yawn escaped her.

She tapped out the last few commands for her chamber, and then stretched one last time and lay down just before the lid began to close. She had just enough time to glance back toward Hicks, inexplicably comforted by the way his head seemed still turned to watch for she and Newt, even in sleep. She gave him one last sleepy smile, and then turned her head back toward the young girl in the last chamber.

"Sweet dreams, baby," Ripley whispered, then the cold chill slipped over her, and sleep pulled her under.