Cannabis--1968

AN: God, I've been so tired lately; also I feel like I'm gonna puke when ever I try to eat something. Hopefully, I'm not sick.

Anyway, the last chapter of Cannabis. It's dedicated to everyone who has read the story, reviewed, faved, and put it on alert. I'm still debating whether or not to post another Deathnote fanfic, but we'll have to see.

I own nothing. There is a snippet from Martin Booth's book "Cannabis A history". I don't own that at all either.

-

--1993--

The bus rumbled lowly under my feet; it was almost the same feeling of unsuspecting exhilaration that welled inside my gut as I clenched my hands together in tight fists on top of my lap.

The scene outside was almost the same blurred landscape as it was twenty-five years ago, except that more fast-food restaurants had popped up over the years.

The day changed to night; I barely got any sleep because of the excited chatter of a young couple behind me.

I knew L wouldn't be there. I had read something in the newspaper about a scientist whom had published something about the effects that marijuana had on people, via self-testing, but I doubted that it was L. The scientist's name was L Lawliet, what a strange name…

Even though I doubted that this "L Lawliet" was my L, the name had made an imprint on my mind, and my heart screamed that I needed to return to San Francisco.

In 1987, Jerry had sent me a picture of L tinkering away on something with a white haired child. A small smile was on the hippie's face, and the child was glaring slightly at him. One the back it read St. Louis--1987. I had moved to New York the year before after 'coming out' to my mother and father; my mother had sent the picture to me.

I took out the picture from my wallet, smiling slightly and touching the glossy black and white surface. "Whoa!" A loud voice boomed beside my ear. I turned and glared at the owner of the annoying voice.

One of the young teenagers had glanced over the top of the chairs and was staring at the small photo I still held in my hand. The boy had short black hair and dark brown eyes that remained transfixed on the picture. "Yes?" I asked lowly, my voice dripping with annoyance, "May I help you?"

The boy's brown eyes lifted to meet my own. An awkward smile lifted his lips. "Er…sorry dude! Um…I just couldn't help but to look at your picture of that guy." An arm lifted from the seat behind me, and a short finger pointed at the paper. "But…you do know who that guy is, right?"

I blinked slowly, "An old…friend. How do you know about him?"

The boy's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, and his head turned quickly to the female that sat beside him. "Kim, hey, Kim! This guy knew L Lawliet!" A stocky red headed female shot up beside the boy, her mouth forming a perfect 'o'.

"No way, really?!" She turned her blue eyes onto me, "You knew the guy who tried to legalize pot?!" I didn't really want to 'chat' with two seventeen year olds, so I turned back in my seat and stared out the window.

L Lawliet…so that was you.

For the next three hours, I caught bits and pieces of their conversation.

"--I doubt that guy really knew him! We had to get special permission to go to a flipping book signing!"

"--But he had a picture of Lawliet and Lawliet's kid Near." I heard the girl (Kim?) sputter.

"Yeah right! It's probably from a newspaper, or a fake! You are such a dunce, Kyle."

Hmm…Kyle and Kim, I mused tiredly, all the while staring out the window.

Once again, 710 Ashbury. Once again, I stood outside of the old, white Victorian door. No sounds came from the apartment; my hands clenched and unclenched inside the pockets of an old jacket of my father's. Nervousness gnawed at the inside of my stomach. My watch beeped at 8, the time I usually woke up at, and caused me to jump slightly at the noise.

My fingers reached out attentively and brushed across the brass know. The boy, Kyle's words flashed across my memory. 'He had a picture of Lawliet, and Lawliet's kid Near.'

I gripped the cool metal, a soft smile coming to my mouth. Did you find a girl, L? Now are you happy doing something so 'great' that even seventeen year-olds say you're the best thing to happen since sliced bread? I opened the door, and lingered in the apartment's doorway. I still love you though, you strange bastard.

One foot gingerly stepped onto the threshold of the old living room, and a wave of calm settled over my body.

The old green couch where Jerry had gotten me high for the first time, and where L and I had spent most of our nights still sat in its rightful place pushed over by the set of three window seats. I noticed with slight agitation that the green carpet had been replaced by wooden floor-boards. No large sheets of paper hung from the walls, but the tell-tale smudges of purple still lingered on the white walls.

The living room was empty save for the couch. I sighed and walked across the loud floor. I plopped down on the couch, much as I had done after I had gone on my walks through the Haight-Ashbury. Something bumped against my arm and leg.

I looked down at the cushions, and with wide eyes picked up the manila envelope. Why had I forgotten this?

Black, scratchy hand writing was on the stained surface of the envelope, and I realized with slight happiness that it was L's.

1990 August 20

Light--

I know that someday, you'll return to San Francisco and find this, though I only wish I knew when.

The year is 1990 (Here he drew an arrow to the date he had put on before hand. I chuckled.) You and I have accomplished many things in our twenty-two years apart (I noticed that in '69 your article on us 'Damn Dirty Hippies' was published in Time magazine. Congratulations!)

I have thought about you everyday since our parting in '68, and I Do hope to see you again. I am now residing in London; here, I adopted an orphan named Near. I wish for you to meet him next time we see each other.

All the best--

L

I stared at the note for two or three seconds before a large, boyish grin over took my face.

I slid one finger under the sealed flap of the envelope and tore it open. Another, smaller note fell our of the manila envelope, only this time I could see that the corners were browned by age.

1968 June 30-July 1

Light--

I honestly don't think you'll remember this. (You were never one to remember petty things,) But here's to hoping you do!

--L

I raised an eyebrow, and set the small note aside. The manila envelope was heavier than I remembered; I slipped my fingers under the yellowish paper, and felt a hard book cover run across my fingertips.

I pulled out a large book that had folded papers in its pages. I took out two loose papers from the front cover and glanced at the book's front cover. "Common Sense"; I rolled my eyes. Like L had any of that in his entire body.

I opened one of the folded papers, and my eyes landed onto a rough sketch. It was Jerry playing a banjo, an ever present smile on his scruffy face. The lines were as if someone had held the pencil between only two fingers, but I could tell it was my old land-lord/friend. My heart fell slightly, remembering that Jerry's health was becoming worse.

I opened another of the folded papers and aloud bark of laughter filled the empty room. It was obvious L had been working on expressions. It was a sketch of L (who I assumed) had been looking into the bathroom mirror. One of his owlish eyes was squeezed shut, and his tongue was stuck out like he was grimacing.

The loose papers were mostly still life sketches, but I found a few of me. I traced the outline of one sketch, feeling the twenty-five year old graphite smudge under my finger.

I decided to open the book, and a few more note-book papers fell out. I looked over the black scratchy hand writing I knew to be L's.

--To some, Cannabis is the classic "Gateway Drug." To others, it is a harmless way to relax, or provide relief from crippling pain. Some fear it is a dangerous drug with addictive properties; to others still it is a legal anomaly and should be decriminalized. Whatever the viewpoint, and by whatever name it is know, cannabis--or marijuana, hashish, dope, pot, weed, grass, ganja--incites debate at every level, and the effect it has on the cultures and economics of every corner of the globe is undeniable."

I shook my head and thought So this is what you were working on? I began to laugh, "Oh L…" I wasn't surprised when tears began to blot the twenty-five year old paper. "Shit." I sniffed and wiped at my eyes.

My head whipped around as the door to the apartment creaked open. "--And this is our cheapest apartment, but it's very spacious and--" The realtor stopped dissentiences. My eyes were wide as I got off the couch, clutching the "Common Sense" book to my chest.

"I'm sorry," I murmured lowly. The realtor (a 60 something year old bat who's mouth had tinned to an unimaginable degree) gave me the evil eye. I began walking to the door, muttering apologies. "I used to live here when I was younger. Sorry…"

An hour later, I laid on "Hippie Hill"; my arms were being used as a pillow. The heavy book rested on my chest. I watched as the clouds drifted by like big, puffy sheep…

I sighed and closed my eyes; soon I fell asleep.

Pain exploded on the right side of my head, causing me to snap up and yelp in surprise. "What the hell?!" I growled.

"Ah! Sorry Mister!" I cracked open an eye to glare at a long haired youth who grabbed his red Frisbee and ran off.

I squeezed my shut, trying to rub away the (now throbbing) pain. "I can't tell you how many times that's happened to me…" A low, softly accented voice said from above me. I didn't feel like opening my eyes.

"God…those things should be illegal." I growled, rubbing the painful spot.

The low voice chuckled, "That just makes it even better, Light."

My eyes snapped open. It couldn't be. I lifted my gaze to the owner of the voice. A shaky breath left my lips. "L?"

He stood above me, a tiny smile played at the corners of his pale pink lips. L really hadn't changed, except for light stress lines at the corners of his owlish eyes. His raven hair still stood out in every direction; L stood hunched as ever, hands in the pockets of a dark coat.

"How are you Light?" I noticed that his voice had the faintest breath of a British accent, and I couldn't help but think it suited him.

L sat down next to me, and I could see slight concern in his onyx eyes. I was still surprised at actually being able to talk to him again. "…Are you okay, Light? The Frisbee didn't hit you too hard, did it?" I blinked as he lifted a hand and placed a cool finger-tip to my eye. It was as if we had never been apart.

We must have looked odd; two grown men sitting on the ground, and talking as if we were a married couple. I didn't care. I took L's face in between my hands and kissed him. God how I've missed you.

My mind spun slightly as we kissed, my tongue rolled over his, causing my stomach to tighten with happiness. We broke apart, L breathed in silent laughter. "I certainly missed that." He smiled and stood up. I looked up at him, a frown forming at the corners of my mouth.

"Are you leaving?" I asked, not hiding the disappointment that had crawled into my voice and expression.

L rolled his black eyes and held out a hand to help me off the ground. People had been giving us looks of "Aww…how cute. How long have they been apart?" Some of the older tourists (mostly Midwestern couples, I suspected) gave us odd looks after we had broken apart from our kiss. I didn't care, all I really cared about was that, after being apart for so long, I was walking, hand in hand with L.

"Where are we going?" I asked, raising an eyebrow at him. L glanced at me and flashed me a non-smile.

"I want you to meet Near…I trust you found the manila envelope?" I nodded.

"Did you know they're selling the old apartment?" We turned to a small café; L raised an eyebrow in my direction.

"They're selling it? That's sad."

L walked up to a table where a small white haired boy and an old man sat. The old man looked from L to me, a grey eyebrow raised in question before he nodded. L turned to the boy and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Near…I'd like you to meet Light."

The little boy turned around in his chair, his ice-blue eyes were skeptical but he gave me a curt nod of acknowledgement, and then turned back in his chair.

--

"I want you to go back to London with me." L and I were walking around the changed Haight-Ashbury after the old man (Quillish Wammy) had taken Near back to their hotel room.

I looked quickly at him, my eyebrows knit in slight confusion. Had I heard him right? "What?" I asked.

L sighed, "I want you to come with Near and I back to London. We'll be returning in one week."

I remained silent and stared at the ground. Emotions swelled close to bursting around in my head. Giddiness, confusion, excitement…

"Why?"

I swore I heard L sigh again in irritation. I mentally gave myself a pat on the back for that one. "Because I want to be with you. Because I've thought about you for the past twenty-five years. Because Light," He turned to me and rolled his eyes. His voice held a note of finality. "I fucking love you."

-

-

FINIS

Ahh, finally done! I'm kinda sad to see this end, but hey --shrugs--what can ya do?

--Laughs-- So L uses Light's confession of love to get Light to come with him to London. Please review to tell me how I did. If you think it sucks eggs, be gentle.

Also, if you feel like it, drop a plot by. Maybe I'll use it! --wiggles eyebrows--Eh?