Disclaimer: I don't own any Sailor Moon characters.

A/N: I'd like to thank Vanessa Riverton for the wonderful number she did proofreading this fic and giving me the smexx stamp of approval! That semicolon ain't no regular semicolon. It's special -- it's a smexxicolon! And for the faithful PSPS readers out there, forgive me! I have started the next chapter, but this one-shot distracted me, and I've been commissioned to do some custom designing. Never fear though! It's in progress, I promise!

Playing With Fire

All I see are lines zipping past me, long white lines broken by minute gaps that are blurred from my sight; lights from above pass over me, scanning my presence on the perilous roads of Mt. Akina. Every now and then I'll see the yellow signs with their bold black arrows indicating the upcoming acute turn in the road. I'm hours from home, but it's the same road I drive through every night when I go joyriding to treat my insomnia. I could drive through it with my eyes closed. Maybe I'll try tonight and see what happens.

Some might call it crazy, some might call it daring, but ultimately it's dangerous. That is exactly why I do it. I don't drive in the fast lane just for the adrenaline rush or cheap thrills. I don't race in the high-speed circuits for glory or reputation. I do it because I have a death wish. I never had the will to take it upon myself to end my own life, but I thought if I could place myself in the most risky situations, it'd be taken care of for me. I figured if it wasn't my time, then I'd still live no matter what, but I just thought I might give a hint to the good old reaper that I'm ready when he is.

So I close my eyes and let muscle memory take over while I envision the road ahead in my darkness. There should be a left turn up ahead. I can picture the caution sign and the metal railing that separates the road from the steep drop on the other side. My hand instinctively moves down to the shift knob and I downshift to third as my left foot depresses the clutch. My other hand turns the steering wheel accordingly and so far I still hear my tires gripping the pavement and not metal scraping against metal. The feeling I get is intense as I accelerate out of the turn and continue forward. I'm tempted to take a peek and see if I'm at least still on the right side of the road, but that notion is affirmed when I hear an oncoming vehicle pass. My eyes remain closed and I follow the stretch of road for another five minutes or so. If I'm not mistaken, I should be hitting a little bump in the road right… about… now. The two consecutive thuds I hear mean I'm correct. Now the road will make a slight curve to the right. So far so good.

I'm almost at the bottom of the mountain now, and it sounds like a storm is approaching because I hear a rumbling noise. I'm beginning to think driving with my eyes closed is starting to turn out not as exciting as I hoped it would be, nor does it seem tempting enough for the reaper. Maybe I should try again when it's raining and the road is slippery. That would definitely make it more interesting. Better luck next time, I think halfheartedly. My disappointment is suddenly interrupted when I see a light growing brighter through my eyelids. Have I managed to veer off into the opposite lane? A horn blares, but oddly enough, it's coming from behind me. I open my eyes hurriedly and see nothing but open road ahead of me, and I'm in the correct lane. The bright light is coming from my rearview mirror reflecting the headlights of a truck speedily coming up from behind without slowing down. That's when I realize it can't slow down. It must be a runaway truck, and it's about to rear-end me. The rumbling noise wasn't thunder, it was this truck. In a moment the truck's grill takes over my rearview mirror and I'm blinded as the white light envelopes me.

"Haruka."

I hear her say my name, but I can't look at her.

"Haruka, please say something."

All I can do is shake my head. If I try to speak, my voice would come out shaky and she'll know I'm fighting tears.

"So it doesn't bother you that I'm leaving."

Of course it bothers me, but I can't tell her. I can't tell her how all I ever wanted was to keep her with me forever. I can't be selfish, and I don't want to hold her back when she deserves better.

"Haruka, look at me," she says desperately. Her voice is trembling and I curse myself for letting this happen.

I tighten my jaw and look into her blue eyes. I was only fooling myself when I thought I could be content just being by her side. Every now and then I actually allowed myself to think she wanted me by her side. I don't know how I managed to restrain myself all these years. Looking at her now, I'm forced to realize this may be the last time I will ever gaze upon the beauty that stole my heart. I can't hold out any longer. My vision quickly blurs and soon my tears are brimming over. "I don't know. What do you want me to say, Michiru?" I ask, trying to keep my voice as steady as I can.

She stares at me for a moment, then her eyes well up like mine. "If you don't know, then I don't know either." She uses the back of her hand to wipe the tears from her face. Those hands weren't meant for tears, especially not ones shed because of me. They were meant for the violin. I've watched her perform countless times and each time she did I wished only to be that instrument that she cradled so endearingly.

I keep my eyes locked onto hers and tell her, "I have nothing to say." My voice is hoarse though, and she knows I'm lying. She is the only one who can see right through me. But why can't she see how I feel? Why can't she see how much it's hurting me to draw out this goodbye? It's not like I didn't know this day would come, but I guess I was under the delusion that there'd still be more time.

My foot hits the gas pedal hard to the floor, but I'm too late. My head gets knocked back against the headrest as the truck drives into my bumper. For a moment, I see a hooded a figure standing in the middle of the road. I don't even stop to wonder why someone would just be standing in the middle of the road at this hour of the night like that. My first impulse is to swerve in an attempt to spare the bystander's life, and then I catch a glint off the long curved blade of the scythe that the figure holds in its deathly grip. It raises its face and my eyes meet two dark empty abysses beneath the shadow of the hood.

"Nice of you to show up now," I greet it.

Death simply smiles at me, but I can't tell if it's a sympathetic smile or a mocking smile. All I know is there are two of us mortals careening dangerously down a mountain road, and something tells me Death is taking only one of us with it back to the darkness it came from.

The needle on my speedometer continues to rise slowly and it occurs to me. Finally, I can be set free. Life's a prison when you're in love alone.