Story [Final Fantasy VIII] I Didn’t Bring You Flowers (Squall, Rinoa, Angelo)

Title: I Didn’t Bring You Flowers

Author: Tarsier

Fandom: Final Fantasy VIII

Timeframe: Post-game

Characters: Squall, Rinoa, Angelo (dog), Zell, mention of Raine (Squall's late mother)

Spoiler: Angelo image

Word Count: 1,570

Warning: off-screen character (animal) death

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“Time to wake up.”

“Ssstwrrd…” Too tired. Rinoa rolled away from the voice, and right into Angelo’s thick fur. She wrapped her arms around the dog and hugged her like a big fluffy pillow.

“If you don’t want to come, Rinoa, that’s okay.”

Rinoa released Angelo and rolled back over and opened her eyes just enough to see Squall’s light blue eyes half-hidden by thick brown bangs as he knelt beside her bed. She was awake enough now to start to remember where she was, and why it was important that she get up early and go with Squall. Just another minute and she’d have it. “Jusha minuhwrr…”

“I know we agreed you would come, but really, I’d prefer to go by myself.” Squall was standing up, already headed for the door. Mostly awake now, Rinoa remembered everything.

Squall was clever. His distracted half-agreement last night was meant only to delay the discussion until this morning. He knew she wasn’t a morning person, and wouldn’t be coherent enough to object until he was already gone. Well, he’d underestimated her.

She pushed herself up onto one elbow. “Squall.”

Two steps away from her now, he stopped and turned back. She’d intended to demand he wait for her, but something in his expression stopped her. “You aren’t going alone.”

Rinoa looked over her shoulder. “Angelo. Go with Squall.”

Angelo was on her feet in an instant, demonstrating exactly the spontaneous energy Rinoa lacked first thing in the morning, and beat Squall to the door.

Rinoa lay back down. Then sat upright as she remembered the most important thing. “Do you have it?”

Squall nodded and gestured to where it must have been tucked under his jacket. He and Angelo exited the room and Rinoa was back asleep within minutes.

* * * *​

Squall, Ellone, and Laguna had come to an agreement: Laguna would visit Raine on their anniversary, Ellone on the day she died, and Squall on his own birthday.

Squall walked up the small hill and stopped in front of the gravestone. Angelo sat beside him.

Squall had his arms crossed as he looked at the stone. Now that he was there, he didn’t know what to do.

He thought back to the conversation he’d had with Rinoa the day before.

“You don’t have any pictures of her? Not one?”

“No. There’s only a few in existence. They mean more to Laguna and Ellone. They remember her. I don’t.”

“But she’s your mother!”

Squall shrugged.

Fiddling with the ring on her necklace, Rinoa looked up at him in that way she sometimes did, not so much looking at him, as into him. “You should have something from her.”

Squall shook his head and knelt by the grave.

“I know white flowers are your favorite, but I didn’t bring you any.

“I didn’t want to kill them.”

He’d thought about bringing plastic flowers, but they always looked cheap and they would fade in the sun. Planting a live flower was out of the question—no one would be around to care for it every day.

Rinoa had assured him she would come up with something, and she had. It just… wasn’t quite what he’d had in mind. Definitely not what he would have come up with. Of course, what he’d come up with was exactly nothing. So he reached into his jacket and removed the gift.

It had tiny white flowers; he supposed that made it close enough. The rest of it was pinkish-purple, or heliotrope, according to Rinoa.

The shape…well, Rinoa had only a question when he’d asked her about it: “Where do you think you got your lion-heart?”

Squall wasn’t sure if Rinoa was making fun of his last name or his weapon, but somehow or another that was supposed to explain why he was placing a pinkish-purple plush toy lion with a mane of white flowers at the foot of his mother’s grave.

Squall had barely straightened back to standing before Angelo had the plush in her mouth.

“No,” Squall said automatically, afraid Angelo would run off with the toy. She had been fascinated by the stuffed lion from the moment she had first seen it. Which was odd; although Angelo had a lot of toys, none of them were plush like the lion. Rinoa said she didn’t usually like soft toys.

Angelo didn’t run off with the toy, instead she took a few steps toward the headstone and gently set the lion right in front of it. Squall nodded, and Angelo returned to his side. He supposed the lion was less likely to be blown away if it was right next to the headstone.

After a few quiet moments, not knowing what else to do, Squall turned away. He had reports to file back home. As he descended the small hill, he thought about how Ellone would be making the same trek he had in a few weeks.

Suddenly, bringing a stuffed animal to a gravesite seemed a very bad idea.

The more he thought about it, the worse it seemed. Dead, wrinkled flowers would be bad. Faded, tattered plastic would be worse. A windblown, moldy stuffed animal would be worst of all. He didn’t want that waiting for Ellone.

He looked down at Angelo. “Go get it.” Immediately she was off, heading back up the hill. Squall continued toward town, knowing Angelo could easily catch up to his slow pace.

A few minutes later, she returned, carrying the toy proudly. She pranced all the way back into town.

* * * *​

Years later…

There was a hyperactive knocking at the door that could only be Zell.

Squall had barely opened the door before Zell burst in.

“The florist closes at 1600 on Sunday! Did you know that? I didn’t know that! I was at the laundry the whole time. I didn’t want anyone to take it, I didn’t want anything to go wrong. But the florist was closed when I got there. So I don’t have any flowers.”

Squall glanced at the kitchen table already laden with flower carcasses in colorful vases. The last thing they needed was more of those.

“Here it is." Zell thrust a pink gift bag at Squall. After a beat he continued. "Did you find a spot yet? That’s so lame that they won’t let you use the chapel yard in Balamb! Angelo was practically a person, she should count! I’ll talk to them again if you want.”

Squall shook his head. “We’ll figure something out.”

“Squall? Are you still here?” Rinoa’s voice called from down the hall.

“Umm, I should go. If she starts crying, then I’ll start crying again…” Zell threw his arms around Squall in a brief hug, then bolted out the door.

Squall turned to see Rinoa entering the kitchen from the hallway. “That was Zell.”

Rinoa smiled. “I know. I could hear.”

Her eyes fell to the pink bag Squall was holding. She seemed to brace herself as Squall handed it to her. She started to open it, but stopped short. She handed it back to Squall. “I want you to have it. It’s yours, it always has been.”

Squall knew what was in the bag—the heliotrope stuffed lion. Angelo’s favorite toy. It had been utterly filthy, but Rinoa hadn’t been able to bring herself to wash away the last remnants of her beloved pet. So when Zell had asked if there was anything he could do, she had asked him to do it for her.

Not knowing what else to do, Squall opened the bag. Might as well see how the toy had survived the laundry before arguing over ownership.

It looked…different. Well, no, that couldn’t be right. It must have looked the same as it did yesterday, just without the layer of dirt and dog slobber. Perhaps a little faded from the wash.

Foolishly, Squall had been expecting to see the brilliantly colored lion he had set on his mother’s grave all those years ago. But he knew that was not how the toy had looked just a day ago—the transformation had been slow and he just hadn’t really noticed it until now.

The tail had been the first thing to go. Angelo had chewed through it before they’d arrived home from Winhill. The color had gone next. The toy had clearly not been designed to withstand dog drool, seawater, or hours and hours in the sun. The pink was gone, most of it faded to a dull brown, with a few patches on the stomach and legs that had been bleached to near white when the toy had been lost on the beach for a week. Much of the flowered mane was gone—fallen away over time, or chewed away by Angelo. It didn’t look much at all like a lion. In fact, it looked rather like—

“It’s her.” Rinoa took the toy from Squall. She held it up, studying it. “All this time, she was working on a self-portrait.”

Though she smiled, Rinoa’s eyes had welled with tears. Squall put his arm around her. “I have an idea.”

Rinoa shifted to look at Squall.

“Why don’t we bury her in Winhill? Next to Raine?”

As Rinoa rested her head against Squall’s chest, he added quietly, “It’ll be less lonely.”

“For Raine or for you?” Rinoa asked.

“Both.”

Rinoa looked up, into Squall’s eyes. “Winhill is perfect. Let’s do it tomorrow. Together.”

Squall smiled softly. “Together.”

The End
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Note: Heliotrope, the stuffed lion, also appears in Inexplicable.

 

Sweet post here. Loving and supportive.

 

Thank you! I'm always so happy to see your reviews

I'm the same way, I'm sorry to make you read this sadness! If it helps at all, I actually wanted to write "Many years later..." and if you like, you can totally imagine that Angelo was like 20 when she passed.

In fact, I had the first two sections written months ago and I had intended for the story to end with Squall finding the toy in his room when he was feeling down and finding comfort in it. But that just never came together, so I decided to try this much sadder ending.

Thank you! You always have such thoughtful, insightful reviews, I really enjoy reading them