"Just four spots left," Ripley sighed, dropping the welder on the ground heavily.

"Great," Hicks said. He leaned against the wall and wiped his face with the edge of his shirt.

They were on the outer fringes of the ship in the early evening. It had taken them most of the day just to track down the spot they were looking for, and about two hours of finagling to get the computer to accept the spot as properly repaired.

"I wish it wasn't so damn quiet," Ripley muttered. "I keep hearing things, you know? Scuttling and scraping where there isn't any. Keep expecting one of those things to drop down in front of me and start the whole thing all over again."

"You were a miner, weren't you?" Hicks asked.

"Yeah." She blew a strand of curly hair off her forehead. "Why?"

He shrugged. "Well, what'd you do when you were stuck on the ship, waiting around for the drill to hit gold?"

She laughed. "We mined for ore, not gold." She leaned to one side, wincing as she worked out a sore spot in her shoulder. "Brett and Parker would turn on music, usually. Something old with lots of funk, like, ah. . ." She tipped her head back and smiled. "The Bee Gees, or something like that. God, they'd fight for hours over what old band was the best. It drove Dallas crazy." She leaned back down and picked up the equipment, hoisting it up on one shoulder. She shook her head and said to herself, "I forgot about that. Feels so long ago."

"Too bad we don't have music," Hicks said. "That'd be fun."

"It sure would." She glanced at him. "Come on. Let's get something to eat."

A few hours later everyone was settled in the for the night. Bishop was still up, roaming about the ship as he did his best to locate the next spot that required welding. It would be difficult without someone in the control room on comms directing him to the exact spot, but with his photographic memory he did well enough. Newt was fast asleep on her bunk (Ripley tried to gently dissuade her from spending the night in her fort whenever she could; she wanted the girl to feel safe without having to hide away in a corner, expecting danger at any moment) with Ripley on the cot beside her.

Hicks was in what had been the marines' room, digging through a box of random junk they'd all brought along. It was a mixed bag of belongings, souvenirs and knickknacks from all their different travels, a grab bag of memories and small treasures. He found what he was looking for near the bottom, however: a small portable radio with a mess of wires spilling from it. It was a few decades old, something he'd picked up for a couple coins from a random vendor on a planet they'd been stationed a a couple years back. Hudson and Vasquez had given him a hard time for it, asking what on earth he was going to do with that piece of junk. He'd always insisted that he was going to fix it up when he got some time. He'd held true to his word, pulling it out now and then when they had some downtime while waiting to be shipped out someplace. He'd never made much progress, but he knew he could fix it.

He took the radio and set it down on one of the bunks, fishing out some random tools from his bag and getting to work.

When he'd finally finished, he could hear the telltale signs that he'd spent the entire night on the project. Newt and Ripley were getting up and moving around in the next room, and he could hear the radio crackle as Ripley talked to Bishop, checking in on his progress from the night before.

He quickly gathered up the project and hid it away again, heading back into the main room to rejoin the group. Another long day of work awaited them; Bishop was hard at work on the spot he'd located, and Ripley decided to head out solo with Hicks directing her from the computer screen so that they could find the next spot faster.

As usual, the day was quickly eaten up by the painstaking, laborious task of repairing the ship, and by the time evening rolled around again, Ripley was exhausted and ready for a long rest. "Alright, I'm heading back," she said to Hicks over the radio with a sigh. The computer was finally reading the area as sound and secure. It had taken three hours straight to get it right, and she was worn through.

"I've got dinner made," Hicks said. "And hey-head into the crew bunkroom, okay? I have a surprise for you."

Ripley frowned at his tone of voice, smiling slightly. "What kind of surprise?"

"Just wait and see."

Whatever she was expecting, it paled in comparison to the sight awaiting her.

After confirming that the music player was working and spending a ludicrous amount of time combing through the thousands of stored songs to find a suitable playlist for the evening, Hicks had had just enough time to go digging through the ship's supplies to find the least banged up and dented tin plates and silverware, laying them out on a makeshift folding table to form the semblance of a nice sitdown dinner. The ship didn't have any candles on board (just emergency flares that did little to set the mood and would have been wasteful to use), so instead Hicks decided it would be a good idea to set two rags on fire, dropping them in tin cups so the flames didn't spread. It was a questionable plan at best, but he had his heart set on surprising Ripley.

And surprise her he did. Little could have prepared her for the strange scene Hicks had prepared, with tin plates treated like fine china, random rags pretending at elegant candles, and the croaky, slightly hollow-sounding music of More Than a Woman echoing off the walls of the crew's room.

He'd cleared the room as best he could so that the table and two chairs were at the center, and as Ripley stopped dead in the doorway, eyebrows raised in shock and confusion, Hicks pulled out one of the chairs for her and offered a small smile.

"What the hell is this?" Ripley asked, delight invading her tone. An unruly smile pulled at her mouth despite her best efforts to the contrary.

"Dinner," Hicks said with a shrug.

Ripley glanced around the room, spotting the origin of the music. The gray box crouched in the corner, its screen emanating a flickering blue light. "What-how did you-?"

"Come on," Hicks said, his smile growing. "Sit down."

She shook her head in wonder but walked over, sitting in the chair he'd offered and studying the spread on the table as he moved to take the seat across from her. She pointed at the rags. "Hicks, did you just set a bunch of towels on fire?"

"Don't worry about it," Hicks said.

"I think it's melting the cup."

"Oh, shit." He grabbed the cups and dumped them on the ground, stamping out the fires quickly until it died into a reluctant sizzle. Then he sat down. "Alright, just forget about that part."

Ripley laughed long and hard at that. "Corporal, I might trust you in a gunfight, but I'm not so sure about your future as a waiter." She glanced down at their plates of reconstituted meals. "Or a cook, for that matter."

"No, no, this is a special recipe," Hicks said, leaning forward. "Newt and I found out that when you mix the meatloaf, rice, and salmon powder together, it's actually edible."

Ripley stared at him with a skeptical look. "What does it taste like?"

"Just try it," he said.

She paused, then picked up her fork and carefully scooped up a small portion, glancing at him again as she lifted it to her mouth. He just gave the same slight smile, waiting as she took a small, tentative bite. Once again, she was completely surprised-while it wasn't exactly delicious, it was a far cry from the bland paste they'd all been eating for the past month. "Alright, so maybe you would make a good cook," she conceded.

"I got us these, too." He took two small chocolate candy bars from his pocket, setting them down on the table between them. "Newt insisted."

"Of course she did," Ripley said with a laugh. She picked up one of the candies, studying it and turning it over in her hand as she thought. Her smile slowly slipped from her face, replaced by a far more serious expression as she looked up at Hicks again. "Thank you. For all of this. It's sweet."

He shrugged, embarrassed. "Least I could do. I feel useless, sitting around all the time, slowing everyone down."

"You're not useless," she said firmly. "You're keeping all of us sane, for God's sake. I don't know what we'd do without you." She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "I don't know what we'd do if we'd lost Newt or Bishop, either," she said. "I'm just glad we made it out together."

Hicks pressed his lips together, then said quietly, "Me too."

Silence stretched between them, filled by the tinny tones of the music player as another old song came on, this time Old Cape Cod. Ripley closed her eyes and smiled. "Sounds just like lazy afternoons on the Nostromo."

Her mouth tugged downward, and Hicks didn't miss the pain that crossed her face at the memory. He leaned forward, ignoring the protests of his shoulder and sides as he reached across the table and gently laid his hand on her arm. Her eyes opened instantly, but she didn't pull away. "I'm sorry," he said simply. She nodded, and he squeezed her arm, then let go. It was enough. Neither of them were fans of big, emotional scenes, but they both understood the pain and loneliness of losing an entire crew. Of losing friends-very old, very dear friends at that.

There is an infuriating injustice to loss that can be totally overwhelming and all-consuming. But sitting there together, shouldering that sensation and sharing the load, took away some of its sting.

"We'd better eat before Bishop or Newt come in here asking for something," Ripley said, picking up her fork again.

Hicks chuckled. "Or before the ship hits another asteroid belt."

"God," Ripley laughed. "Sometimes I think we're never going to get it fixed."

"Of course we are. And then we're going to wake up out of cryo and go hunting for that house Newt wants." He scooped up a bite of food. "I'll have my pension from the marines, so we can go somewhere nice. Somewhere where there's no city smog or choke."

Ripley rubbed her neck. "I'm not sure there's anywhere like that left on Earth."

"Then we'll go to Mars. Or Triton. Hell, I'll save up and we can move to Pluto."

Ripley's snort indicated how outlandish the idea was. Houses on the surface of Mars were extremely expensive, let alone Triton or the station on Pluto. "I think you're slightly overestimating that pension, Corporal."

"Then I'll take on a couple extra jobs." He wore a lopsided grin that was emphasized by the wounds running across his face. "You're worth it."

The look she gave him attempted at annoyance, but Hicks' smile had an irritating effect of bringing a similar grin to her own face. "Eat your dinner."

A/N: I've genuinely been having way too much fun writing this little story. I have a couple more chapters planned, but I was curious if you all would like to see their story post-cryo or if you'd prefer the story ends there. I was very dissatisfied with how their characters were treated in Aliens 3, but if the story ends with them returning to cryo then this would technically still fit in the canon for how their lives turned out. Just wondered if you all wanted to see some returning to Earth chapters or not since I had a couple vague ideas for that. (: Hope you're doing well!