SO. I saw 'What Flies Beneath', and it forced me to write.

I mean, as clever as Hiccup's little plan was, it was also incredibly cruel. Tsk. Tsk.

Well, enjoy!

They'd reached the end of the line.

Hiccup could feel Toothless' panic from across the space between them. The Whispering Death was relentless, and with each blast of fire and spike, a little more of the cliff was sheared away.

This was the end. Hiccup was at the end of his rope – his nerves were fraying at a too-quick pace. For the past forty-eight hours, Hiccup had chased, pleaded, begged, and even gone down into the Whispering Death's labyrinth, and still Toothless was refusing his help.

Although, at first, it hadn't seemed so hopeless. The Whispering Death and Toothless had it out for each other, and Toothless was more than holding his own – he'd saved Hiccup twice. But Hiccup wasn't an optimist, and the fact had finally caught up to Toothless. He couldn't fly on his own, and he was going to go down.

Literally.

His hind legs scraped at the end of the cliff, sending tiny pebbles bouncing down into the canyon. There was water underneath, but there was also rock. The chances of climbing back up without the power of flight (even if he survived the fall) seemed slim to nothing. Hiccup didn't want to take the chance.

He tried to make eye contact, but Toothless was busy fending off the Whispering Death's attacks. And then he looked at him. Hiccup tried to tell him without words – Jump! – to come over to his side, so he could help. But Toothless didn't move.

Hiccup was standing right at the edge of the cliff. He closed his eyes, guilt rising from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. It was the right thing to do, he reminded himself. The only way. He'd come diving after him, and then they'd fight the Whispering Death together. But Toothless had gotten like this before, he remembered, with the Typhoomerang. He was trying to protect him.

They'd done this thousands of times before. He'd never had to doubt Toothless, ever, but… if Toothless' insistence on settling this score alone – he was a fighter, and Hiccup wasn't – turned out stronger than their connection…

He spread his arms and stepped off the cliff.

He could hear Astrid's astonished voice from what sounded like far, far above him – "Hiccup!" The wind grabbed at his face, his hair, his clothes, and he fell. Through closed eyelids, he saw a starburst of orange and felt the repercussion of heat as the Whispering Death shot again.

Hiccup opened his eyes, watching, as he sank in what seemed to be thicker air than usual, slowing his fall. Horror was filling inside him – what if that had finished Toothless off? – and the panic that had been edging at him for the past two days was slowly draining away.

Was this acceptance of death? He still felt afraid, but he (hoped) he was reasonably sure of a place in Valhalla… the past two near-death experiences, he hadn't had a chance to ruminate, however short….they were both quick pain – the blunt, crushing force of the Red Death's tail, slamming into him, and the lightning burning across his arm, his chest, his face – and then unconsciousness.

And then Toothless screamed and all Hiccup could see were heavy black wings and claws scratching air in the attempt to get to him faster. He flipped and shoved his leg in the stirrup, clicking the tail into place – but they were still falling.

Hiccup couldn't see – rubble was beating them to the ground, and the Whispering Death had chosen the spot well. Directly around the pillar where it'd stranded Toothless was solid ground.

They struggled for altitude as the rocks exploded against the ground, creating a huge dust cloud. Hiccup yelled, and then suddenly Toothless pumped his tail and they burst into clear air.

"You saved me, I saved you," he panted, rubbing Toothless' head as they turned back to the fight. "That's the way it is."

Later, Hiccup could only decide that his brush with acceptance of death would be best categorized under another name – blackmail.