I carefully led Vasquez back to the hotel, where I decided to stay with her and make sure she was safe for the night. However, I went next door to see if Hudson was back. As I entered the room, I saw the television was on, and I heard hear the toilet flushing. A minute later, Hudson emerged from the bathroom, looking satisfied with himself.
"What'd you do?" I asked.
"Lost about twenty pounds," Hudson said. "Ten from walking, and ten from-"
"OK, that's enough. I'm glad you can count. I just came by to see if you were here and . . . alive, I guess. You didn't kill anyone?"
"Nope. I told Delhoun and Hornby about what you found."
"I know. I'm staying with Vasquez tonight. She's kinda tipsy, and I just want to make sure she's OK."
"What the hell'd you guys do? Go to a bar?"
"We went to dinner, that's all."
"Ah. That's fine, man, it's good you're looking out for her." Right before I left the room, Hudson added, "Oh, Hicks told me to tell you that he says 'hello,' and that he's feeling a little better."
I paused. "You saw Hicks?"
"For a few minutes, yeah. He was tired and not all that up for conversation, but he gave it a shot, and he wanted to know how you were doing. Honestly, I wasn't sure how to answer that. I said you were fine, but I also know that you had a panic attack earlier today, and . . . maybe you're not fine."
"No, I'm really not fine," I said. "I'm tired, too, and . . . my mind's all over the place." That probably wasn't the best thing to end the conversation on, but it was true that my mind was starting to go in all different directions, and I wanted to go to bed.
Without so much as a "good night," I went back to Vasquez's room, finding her sitting on one of the beds. She looked at me, her usually beautiful brown eyes glassy with slight drunkenness. Grinning at me, she said, "Are you spending the night, Drake?"
"Yeah. I'm keeping an eye on you, that's all," I replied.
"Well, then, I guess that also means we can have a little fun while we're at it."
"Honey, the best thing for you to do right now is to take a hot shower and go to bed. I'm telling you right now that you're gonna feel like garbage in the morning."
"You're just saying that."
"Am I? Let's see what you think in the morning." I know arguing with someone while they're intoxicated is pointless, but anything is better than silence right now.
For the record, I was right when it came to how Vasquez would feel in the morning. I woke up to hear her sobbing in the bathroom, and I immediately got out of bed to go to her aid. She was sitting on the bathroom floor, a towel wrapped around her, and she was crying. I sat next to her, putting my arm around her shoulder. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" I whispered.
"'What's wrong?' I got drunk last night and all you can ask is 'what's wrong?!'" She sniffed. "I'll tell you what's wrong; the fact that I . . . I showed no self-control in front of your friend! I was being selfish a-and I completely ignored the fact that . . . she's just a friend."
I hugged her tightly. "It's fine, honey, at least nothing bad happened. You're alright. I'm not mad at you. Is that all that's bothering you?"
Vasquez shook her head. "No, Drake, that's not the only thing. I was . . . having nightmares about when I got arrested."
While I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, Vasquez had committed murder in a coldblooded, drunken rage. She hung around all the wrong people in the quiet outskirts of Phoenix, Arizona. According to what she told me, it wasn't because she was raised that way; it was mainly because she judged herself about as harshly as I judge myself now. From a young age, she was fit and active and was involved in girls' sports since middle school. She wasn't a star player or anything like that, but she was certainly a hard worker. However, she would quickly learn that getting your name and face in the school and local papers took more than hard work, and it was in her sophomore year of high school when she experienced massive burnout. She had been committed to the girls' lacrosse team since being good enough to make varsity in eighth grade, and she wasn't the only one. The only difference between her and several of the other athletes was that they were in other sports and clubs and were highly active in the community, thus granting them more attention. On the other hand, Vasquez chose to focus on one thing at a time, trying to avoid becoming overwhelmed. The burnout came after the second game of the fall season, where she scored the most goals, but was left out of the post-game photograph.
She was mentioned, but with a simple "J. Vasquez (not pictured)." What happened was that she was in the locker room, and no one came in to get her. The article on the game didn't mention her, and instead focused on the "incredible leadership" of someone else. Feeling her work was not paying off, Vasquez quit. Long story short, she fell in with a bad group of "friends," and when she attended an underage drinking party, she got herself wasted, and started a fight with another girl. It didn't take long for the fight to get out of hand, and it ended with Vasquez beating the other girl's brains out with a chair leg.
For some time, Vasquez was so haunted by her experience that she refused to touch alcohol. I took it upon myself to make her less uncomfortable, and although that worked, she's very careful when it comes to moderating herself. All I can do is hope that last night doesn't set her back in any way.
I decided not to say anything after Vasquez brought up having nightmares about her arrest. Hugging her close, I rested my chin on top of her head, and gently rubbed her arm. I felt like the best I could do was be a comforting presence, let her know I was here and I was listening, until I could think of a solution. Frankly, I don't think there's a definite solution; she made a mistake and that's it. The only thing she can do is learn from it and not do it again.
If I could, I would've stayed with Vasquez all day, but I did tell Delhoun last night that I wanted to see Hicks and talk to him alone. Vasquez didn't insist on coming with me; after all, she wasn't feeling good from last night, and decided she would actually relax and rest today. I did check on Hudson, though, and saw he was still sleeping. The TV was still on, and there was an empty beer can on the nightstand.
At least Hudson was able to fully enjoy himself here, while Vasquez and I were struggling to sever ourselves from our problems for a few days.
I met up with Delhoun outside a Dunkin' Donuts, and that's when I remembered I owed Hudson that gift card. Without a second thought, I got a twenty-five-dollar gift card and shoved it in my pocket. "Remind me to give that to Hudson later today," I told Delhoun as we headed to the Metro.
"Sure thing," Delhoun replied.
I'll spare you the boring details of our ride to the hospital. The only thing that happened on the train was that a kid around eight years old was staring at Delhoun, and said, "Mom, look, that guy has red eyes."
When we finally got to the hospital, I found myself worrying about what I was going to say to Hicks. At the same time, I felt like he was going to be the one initiating the conversation, and I shouldn't be worrying about anything at all. It was also strange how this was the same building I had gotten kicked out of and banned from, but now I was being welcomed warmly because Hornby was no longer using Hudson for experiments. Plus, we weren't being led to a laboratory.
Hicks had a really nice room all to himself. It was pleasantly warm, and there was a large lava lamp on a table across from the bed. Delhoun explained to me that certain modifications were made to the room in order to keep Hicks relaxed throughout his recovery. I thought it was nice, and wished I had a lava lamp when I was recovering. Wishing me luck, Delhoun left the room, and I walked over to the bed, grabbing a chair along the way. Some part of me really wanted to be the one starting the conversation, probably to show that I wasn't shy or stagnating my progress, so I said, "Boy, they're spoiling you here, aren't they?"
"I wouldn't go that far," Hicks replied, "but this is a lot more than I expected."
"Are you feeling better?"
"I can breathe a lot easier, that's for sure. It still feels like I got two lead weights in my chest, but I think I can walk without feeling like I'll pass out. Doctor Hornby hasn't let me stand up yet."
"Is he treating you good?"
"So far, yeah." Hicks slowly sat up, wincing with effort. He looked like he was going to be sick once he managed to be in upright position. "How have you been?"
I forgot to attach my "thoughts-to-mouth" filter in my head, and said, "Really? You're the one in a hospital bed and you're asking me how I'm doing?"
"I don't want a pity party, Drake. Besides, I asked because of the talk we had the day before leaving. Remember? You told me you feel guilty for things that you didn't do because of things you did in your past."
"Yeah. That."
"Have you tried talking to somebody about that?"
"No." I needed to think of an excuse. "I'm not ready."
"That's fine. You can take as much time as you need. Hell, if you feel like it, you can talk to me. I won't say anything to anyone, I promise."
"Thanks, but, again, I don't feel ready." I glanced at Hicks. "You know, over the last few days, I've asked myself whether or not you broke your promise to me about how we were going to talk right you and everyone else came back from the Moon."
"I didn't have a choice. I don't think that constitutes to a broken promise."
"Well, it certainly means that when we catch Jenzi, I'm gonna slam his head against the fucking wall." I frowned, remembering what General Russell told us about how Jenzi and Hicks used to be in the same unit. "Can I ask you something? Why did you get transferred from your past unit?"
Hicks didn't respond right away. He adjusted himself before reaching over and taking a cup of tea from a small table. Before placing the cup to his lips, he said, "It was a little dysfunctional."
"Like ours?"
"No. We're a good dysfunctional. What I used to be in was a bad dysfunctional. We didn't have anyone who could break the tension or make anyone feel at ease. It was a strict environment that was a bit too strict for its own good. There was no balance, and when people cracked, they exploded on everyone. Jenzi was one of those who cracked easily, but only after bottling things up for weeks at a time. There was a time where I tried to take him aside and deal with him, and he refused. I tried again after a week, and he finally opened up a little. He said that he wanted a transfer, and at the time, I couldn't authorize that kind of request. He wasn't too happy about that, and decided to convert all his frustration into insults and badmouthing and sometimes physical threats. So, I ended up wanting a transfer, talked to Russell, and got it."
"I can imagine Jenzi didn't take to that so well. Funny, he wasn't rude to you when he and Lucano came to our base a few weeks ago."
"I think that's because he knew what he was going to do when we got to the Moon. I don't know if that's true, but, it's what I think."
"Why do I feel like if I was on that mission, this wouldn't have-"
"Don't blame yourself, Drake. Just don't. You probably wouldn't have known or suspected anything."
"I'm sorry." I took a breath, feeling like I had exhausted the conversation, and made my situation worse.
"I just don't want to see you beat yourself up. The more you do it, the less comfortable you'll be about opening up to people. You understand that?"
"It's a lot easier said than done," I sighed. "Where do I start?"
"Start with not assuming you're the culprit if something happens. Common sense should tell you that you had nothing to do with it, and there's nothing you could've done to prevent it. Second, talk to people. You and Vasquez trust each other, right? If she's your friend, then surely she'll reassure you that you've done nothing wrong."
"In her own way, yeah, she will."
Hicks offered a weak smile. I say "weak" because he looked like he was suddenly in pain. As he lay back down, I noticed that he was shivering. A horribly selfish part of me didn't want to leave. I wanted to keep talking until I felt like I could find a solution to my problems. However, I knew that wasn't possible; Hicks needed rest if he was going to get better. I could always come back later.
Taking Hicks's hand, which was cold, I said, "I'll leave you alone to sleep. When would be a good time to come back?"
"Sometime in the afternoon, I guess." Hicks adjusted his pillow. "You can bring Hudson and Vasquez, if you want."
"Sure. We'll bring 'get-well' presents."
"Fine. No food. Hornby said I can't have anything solid yet."
"I'll keep that in mind." I stood up, taking the chair back to where I took it from. "Feel better, OK?" Again, I wished I could stay longer, but it wasn't going to happen. Deep down, I didn't want to bring Hudson and Vasquez along, but if Hicks wanted to see them, I didn't want to deny him that chance; it wouldn't help his mental recovery.
When I left the room, I could see Delhoun was in a lab across the hall. I knew he was probably helping Hornby with that pill, and I was curious to see how that was going. As I knocked on the door, Delhoun was quick to get up and answer. "Drake," he said, "is everything OK?"
"Yeah. Hicks is sleeping. I was just . . . wondering what you're doing," I replied.
"Well, come on in and see." Delhoun led me inside, and I saw four Annexers perched on top of their cages, staring at me intently. Hornby was at a large table in the back of the room, an array of instruments laid out. "Just don't touch anything," Delhoun said.
I shrugged. "Not like I planned to." Looking around, I realized there weren't only four Annexers in the room. There was a fifth, but he was noticeably different than the others. Sitting on top of Delhoun's desk was an animal much larger and lankier than an average Annexer. Instead of a black suit and helmet, he was completely clad in white, and there were bones dangling from a black band around his neck.
"And I see you've finally met Ursa Major."
I glanced at Delhoun over my shoulder. "What?"
Strolling over to his desk, Delhoun gently patted the large Annexer's head. "Ursa Major is a Polar Annexer, a very hardy relative of the standard that can only be found in polar regions. Beautiful, isn't he?"
"Am I supposed to think so?"
"Maybe. If you want to earn his trust and respect, you should. Polar Annexers are incredibly loyal and honorable creatures, but don't underestimate their physical power."
"Is that why he's wearing bones?"
Delhoun shook his head, and held up the bones for me to see more clearly. "These are the bones of the marbled hare, a species native to LV-400. It's notoriously hard to catch, and doing so shows determination, perseverance, and dedication. When a Polar Annexer catches and kills one, they're free to do what they please with the bones, and, more often than not, they make necklaces and other articles like these. In some cases, if they feel a human they've come to trust is worthy, they'll present them with hare bones."
"Yeah, well, I highly doubt I'd ever be seen as worthy," I mumbled.
"Why don't you sit and spend some time with Ursa Major and let him decide?" Delhoun handed me a brush. "We need a sample of his fur to get that hormone for the medicine anyway. That would be a big help to us, and Hicks."
I looked at the brush, and then at Ursa Major. Nervously, I sat on the floor. I didn't need to bother beckoning him over, as he had already removed his jacket and helmet before hopping down to rest on my lap. I was a little afraid to touch him, but I couldn't help but run one finger in his silky black fur. Sighing, I put the brush to his back, and said, "I don't know what it is about me you animals think is so special."
Question of the Chapter: In your opinion, who has the more creative backstory: Drake, Hudson, or Vasquez?
Author's Note: Another reason I like "Aliens" the best is because there are so many little things about the characters that can have a really good story behind them. I've been longing to include the "origin story" of Drake's bone necklace and hat décor. They seem like a key part that you can't miss when looking at him; for all its flaws, at least "Aliens: Colonial Marines" didn't miss his bone necklace when making his player model.
Next, I'd like to work on figuring out how and why Hudson has a tattoo of barbed wire around his neck.
