What is this trash? Ah, well. Tenses are probably screwed all the eff up.
Disclaimer: Everyone belongs to Capcom.
Summary: She's beginning to think the backpack is the only reason they keep her around. Yoko-centric. Outbreak fic. Probably not good. Whoops.
Pairing: Super mild (pre?)Yoko/David.
Other crap: Desperate Times is barely used as a backdrop here, and mainly because I was at a loss for an item to give Kevin that wasn't a bottle of booze. Didn't want to stereotype and all. Then again, DT is the level where you find the bottle of gin in the fridge marked "Hands off!" that belongs to him. Welp.
Yoko's beginning to think she's the pack mule of the group. She supposes it's better to have an undesirable purpose than none at all, but still…
She can't help but wonder if that little black backpack is the only reason the others keep her around. She's the only one with anything more than pockets for storage, after all.
Cindy always asks to use Yoko's backpack, or what she's got inside. Never makes her take it off, just asks, "Do you mind…?" then uncinches the pack, as rests on Yoko's shoulders.
Always says, "Thanks!"
Always sounds hopeful, somehow.
Kevin... Well, Kevin has just walked up with a large gray canister in one hand, and his gun in the other, and Yoko just knows what he's got in mind before he says a thing.
"Hey, Yoko?"
"…Yes?"
He raises the canister just so, and simply says, "Backpack."
Mini-backpack, she internally corrects Kevin. All she says out loud, though, is, "I'm… that'll take up a lot of space."
A raised eyebrow; Kevin clearly wasn't expecting Yoko to protest. No one's the leader here, but he is a cop. He's a cop, and they're on his turf now, too.
"Uh huh. And what else is in there that's so important?"
"Well—" Yoko hesitates because it's a blur now, like most of her memories. Hardly anything in there is hers, at this point.
Kevin gestures to her, a little 'Come on,' like he's waving her through a traffic stop.
Yoko removes her backpack and places it on the messy desktop in front of her. She uncinches the drawstring and reaches inside.
"Some… pills?" she guesses, removing a small bottle full of handmade capsules of some sort. Better than Umbrella manufactured medication, she supposes.
George moves forward. "Those are mine. Analgesics and hemostat capsules. I thought they would benefit all of us."
Yoko nods. George had done much like Cindy, and just dropped his things in the bag without her seeing what the items were.
She continues, "A… newspaper?"
Alyssa steps up, brazenly. "Mine. I thought we could roll it up and use it on Kevin, if he gets out of hand."
"Hilarious. Now I know why you write for a living. Lemme guess? Weekly World News?" Kevin guesses. Pretends to guess. He's taunting and he knows it. Alyssa's his target most of the time, from what Yoko can tell. "Gotta get your Bat Boy fix, eh 'Lyss?"
"It's evidence. Of the things that've happened here," Alyssa explains. "And when I get out of this hell hole, I'm gonna blow this case wide open. Expose every murdering sleazebag responsible for this mess for what they are."
A nod. Shared by everyone. The newspaper stays.
Yoko digs into the backpack again. She feels what it is as she's announcing, "Ammunition."
All sorts. Not a lot of any one kind, though.
"I found that," Mark is the one to respond, quietly, but firmly. He's both proud and so very tired at the same time.
"I'm the one with a .45," Kevin chimes in, grabbing at a box. There's the slightest bit of a smirk on his face.
It's as if he knows better than to outright tease Mark.
"Why do you think I picked it up?"
"…Oh."
The ammo stays, too. Not that its place was ever really questioned.
Everyone stands silent, for a moment, in anticipation of what Yoko will pull from her backpack next.
She suddenly feels like the worst magician's assistant ever, and she's almost apologetic when she says, "That's it. There's nothing more." But why should she be sorry? None of it is her stuff, anyway.
Oh, no, wait. There is something else. Her charm. It has just been shoved so far down she'd forgotten it. She lets it slip from her fingers almost as soon as she feels it, and without anyone else so much as knowing it's there. It isn't that important. Not among stuff that actually matters, anyway.
Medicine, ammunition, proof of the horrors they've all been enduring, and now, a means to protect themselves from the nerve gas that could be pumped throughout the police station at any moment.
It's then that Yoko realizes Jim and David haven't put anything in her bag.
"Wait a minute…?"
Understanding her meaning, Jim crosses him arms, and sort of defiantly declares, "I take care of my own shit, alright."
That he does. Jim is definitely one for putting himself first, Yoko has noticed, from their limited interaction. Given the situation, she should be more bothered by it. Something in her admires him for it, though.
David chuckles. It would seem he agrees, too. With Jim.
That's a first, as far as Yoko knows.
David offers a shrug. "I find something worth holdin' onto, I'll hold onto it."
Yoko nods, clears her throat awkwardly. She has an idea what he means by that.
Holding onto what's worth it and leaving behind what's not.
Everyone's moving on while Yoko is still fumbling to get everything back into her pack.
Point made.
No, not everyone's gone on. David is still there. Watching to make sure everything makes it back into her bag okay, Yoko figures. It's important stuff, after all. Even if none of it is his.
It's not like he's got any other reason to stick by her.
Yoko pretends she isn't awkwardly warmer, knowing his eyes are on her. He doesn't say a word.
She doesn't either.
When the silence is broken, it's with a gruff, "That gets too heavy, you lemme know."
"Hmm?"
"I got no problem tellin' 'em all to carry their own shit." The tiniest of smirks plays at David's lips.
"Oh. Thanks," Yoko responds, dumbly. She still can't quite get used to him being nice to her. Not that he's ever been anything but. Somehow, that's what strikes her the strangest about it all. David doesn't seem like someone who suffers fools lightly. Or at all, really.
"Yeah," David mutters.
"I don't mind," she lies.
"I don't either." He smirks again. "I got a lotta pockets, if you'd rather I just hold onto something."
He is and isn't offering at the same time.
"I'm fine," Yoko insists. After a too-long pause, she adds, "Thank you."
David shrugs. He turns away. He's decided it's time to move on.
Yoko looks into the bag and reaches for the cinch; it's been open too long anyway. But then she hesitates, reaching in and disrupting everything she'd just worked to organize.
"David?"
Glancing over his shoulder, he offers a gravelly, "Hmm?"
There's barely any space between them, but Yoko feels desperate—as if she needs to close some immeasureable gap.
She sort of meekly declares, "I would like you to hold onto something, if you really don't mind." She offers her hand.
They touch for just moment. He's rough, but warm. She's smooth, but cold. Yoko almost flinches over the contact, and she's the one who initiated it.
David looks down at what he's just been given. He doesn't respond and it makes Yoko that much more certain this is all the worst idea ever.
As he's still looking it over, she explains, "It's a charm. For protection."
Just as Yoko is considering taking it all back, David is tucking the charm into the breast pocket of his cover alls. He gives it a pat, to make sure it's secure.
"You really don't have to. I just offered it because, I wanted... I mean... Be careful."
David snorts and this time his smirk almost looks like a smile. "I told you. I find something worth holding onto, I'll hold onto it."
End Note: To think, this all came from playing Underbelly as Yoko once and realizing that David had picked up her charm after I ditched it. Since this is my second David/Yoko fic, I guess it means I ship them. :) Well, he's hot and she's fun to write. So yay. And millions of thanks to Mazzie May for reading this over for me. Go read her work; she's amazeballs.