Ripley rolled over in bed, her hand slapping haphazardly for the alarm's snooze button. "Fine, I'm up, I'm up," she scolded the alarm clock before stumbling to the bathroom and splashing water on her face. After a quick shower, she slipped into her work coveralls and padded to the kitchen.

"Good morning, honey," Hicks murmured. "I guess I shouldn't have kept you up so late last night," he said with a wicked smile, and Ripley blushed at the memory before glancing at her watch.

"Oh, shit!" she muttered. "I hit snooze more times than I realized!" She sat down and shoved her right foot into her boot.

"Yeah, I was going to come in and check on you pretty soon. Guess I just wore you out," Hicks teased, as he kissed her temple and placed an insulated bag on the table next to her. "Your lunch, plus a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich for breakfast."

"You didn't have to-" Ripley started, before Hicks stopped her with a kiss.

"I didn't have to. I wanted to, and I'm going to keep wanting to no matter how many times you tell me I don't have to because I love you, my marvelously stubborn wife." Hicks informed her with a smile, as he poured half the coffee pot into an insulated mug. Ripley opened her mouth to protest, but Hicks continued. "You're the only person I know who's as stubborn as me. Well, except maybe our daughter."

She snorted as she finished lacing up her second boot. "She does come by it honestly - she gets it from both of us." She grabbed her things from the table, accepted the mug of hot coffee, and gave Hicks a kiss. "Love you, Dwayne," she whispered warmly.

"Love you, too, Ellen," he grinned back.

As she took a bite of her breakfast sandwich on the tram, Ripley smiled to herself. It had taken being with Hicks to recognize how unfulfilling her previous two marriages had been. Their partnership may have begun out of necessity on that horrible little moon, but that foundation was rock-solid. Newt's assignment popped back into her head and she thought of 3 more "s" words that fit her husband: sensible, shrewd, and just a little bit stubborn.

On the Sulaco, 2179 CE

As the Marines assembled for the briefing, Ripley's eyes flitted to that same sexy Marine, the one called Hicks. While the rest of the platoon clowned and joked, he quietly observed, blowing cigarette-smoke rings and watching the interplay with sharp eyes as Apone and Gorman spoke. She liked that he raised his voice above the din to cut to the chase and ask "what exactly are we dealing with here?" As Gorman ushered her forward, Ripley felt Hicks' intense gaze turn to her and give her his full, undivided attention.

The story of what happened on LV-426 didn't get any easier to tell just because she'd repeated it so many times. Every time she pictured Kane collapsing and then that…creature bursting forth from his chest in a spray of crimson, her throat closed up and she struggled to retain her composure. Despite Burke's and Gorman's coaching on keeping the briefing concise and clinical, Ripley went off script almost immediately. Damn concise and clinical, these kids in front of her had no idea of the danger! As they goofed, she faltered in her tale, and then the tough girl with the red bandana bragged about what a badass she was, and Ripley's temper flared. The rest of them clearly thought she was crazy, disbelief written across their faces, but Hicks just focused on Ripley. The way he wrinkled his brow rather than rolling his eyes gave her a sliver of hope that someone was listening.

A few hours later, on LV-426

"...I think Corporal Hicks is next in chain of command. Am I right, Corporal?" Ripley glanced over at Hicks for confirmation. Her heart clenched in her chest as the reality of the situation dawned on Hicks. His voice was hesitant as he agreed with her, and he looked suddenly overwhelmed. Did I misjudge him? She wondered. If Hicks fell apart, she had no faith in the remaining Marines and she was effectively on her own. Ripley didn't know if she had another Hail Mary in her to survive an army of xenomorphs. She suspected not.

Then that bastard Burke pulled her to the side and wheedled, "Look, Ripley, this is a multi-million dollar installation, okay? He can't make that kind of decision. He's just a grunt! Uh, no offense." The word "grunt" hit Hicks like a slap. Ripley watched him straight his spine, clench his jaw, and glare at Burke.

As he spit out, "none taken," Hicks resumed command with a vengeance, and Ripley let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Hicks shared a glance and a smirk with Ripley as he endorsed her solution for the xenomorphs, and she warmed to him even further.

She remembered another day, much more recently, that reminded her of the particular combination of sensible, shrewd, and stubborn her husband could be.

Ripley's keyring hit the bowl so hard the entire thing toppled over. She grumbled under her breath as she picked up Hicks' keys and the other random pocket debris that had spilled over the floor.

"I was going to ask how it went today, but I don't think I need to," Hicks commented softly as he browned meat on the stovetop.

"Newt?" Ripley asked.

He gestured with his chin at the window. "Playing in the yard with her friends."

Ripley stepped to his back, hugging him from behind and burying her face in his shoulder. "They want me to have a psych eval before they'll even review my application for a new pilot's license. I know it's the Company - they pretty much run the civilian licensing board." She released Hicks so he could remove the pan from the stove.

While he drained the meat, he glanced over at her and asked, "Do you want to know what I think?"

Ripley raised an eyebrow. Was that ever a question? "There's no one else whose opinion I value more," she said with a nod.

"I think you should do it."

"What?" Her eyes widened in surprise.

He covered the saucepan with a lid and came to her. "Think about it. They're expecting you to refuse. They're counting on it. You agree, and you'll have them on their heels." He put his hands on her hips. "You insist on an independent psychologist, and you'll pass the psych eval no problem and have your license back." Ripley chewed on her lower lip as she thought, but she remained silent. "The purpose of the psych eval is to ensure you aren't a danger to yourself or others, and you're clearly not," Hicks said.

"The nightmares-" Ripley began.

"Nightmares," Hicks nodded, as he pulled her to him. "Bad dreams. But no accompanying violence or lashing out. No erratic or self-destructive behavior," he continued, brushing loose curls off her face. "Good job, stable relationship, and an adopted daughter who's thriving. You're clearly someone who's got their shit together." And then he winked.

"Why, Sergeant Hicks," Ripley said with a smile. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you've bullshitted your way through some psych evals."

"I don't know what you're talking about, ma'am," he said with a smile twitching at his lips. "I would never do anything like that. I just know better than to trouble those Marine shrinks with distracting, irrelevant details."