Title: (If I Could) Fly
Fandom: High Rollers: Aerois
Rating: G
Length: 2451 words
Content notes: Set during episodes #50, A Desperate Escape, and #76, Echoes of the Galaxy.
Author notes: For the Gravity challenge. Am I mad I've already used "Fall Down or Fly" as an HR fic title? Take a wild guess! 
Summary: Quill's been hesitant to use this spell, but if ever there was a time to... Two times Quill casts Fly while in astral space.

As he runs up the uneven stairs, Quill's also desperately running through options in his head. They need to get out of here before the station runs out of power, he needs to be faster so they can get out - yes, it's time. He's been hesitant to use this spell ever since he first acquired the bandore that Lady Duskwillow transformed into his ring, fearing the memories it'll bring with it, but if ever there was a time to use it… focussing on the ring, he casts Fly.

He wasn't entirely sure how it would work, and maybe it's shaped by his intent, maybe for anyone else it would be different - but a glowing, spectral wing forms in the place of his missing one, bonding to his body so it almost feels like his own wing restored. He flaps it tentatively, and it responds like part of him. There's so many feelings fighting in him - joy, exhilaration, pain, heartache - but there's no time for any of them, no time for anything but getting out of here as fast as possible, not slowing the others down, or perhaps none of them will make it out. With a powerful sweep of both wings, he launches himself into the air, with all the grace and speed he'd once had, before the Valley of Storms tore it from him. Oh, he’s missed this, how he’s missed this! This is what he was trained for, what he was born for. He shoots through the open central shaft, rushing past Lucius, heading towards the others further up, towards the battle still being fought with Silveredge.

This is faster, this is so much faster, but he’s terrified it still may not be enough. What else can he do, how can he be faster still? Oh! Of course! Why didn’t he think of it sooner? Casting spells while flying can be a little tricky, but Quill’s always been one of the best; even after all this time flightless, giving himself enough lift to stay airborne while he completes the spell is child’s play. With a hasty muttering of the incantation and some swift gestures of his right hand, he casts Expeditious Retreat - and feels his left wing begin to fade out of existence. Desperately, he reaches for the magic, trying to hold it together, but it’s too late. The spectral wing, the wing that felt so like his own that for those crucial moments he forgot it wasn’t, is gone. He grabs wildly at the stairs nearest him, but he’s too far, his hand goes wide - and he plummets.

Stupid, is all he can think as he falls. Stupid, stupid, stupid, as he drops down, losing all the ground he’d just gained and more. He may just have cost himself his chance at escaping. May have cost all of them their chance, if the others aren’t willing to just leave him and run if he’s too far behind… His mind scrabbles to find an answer, some way he can still make it out - the ring won’t let him fly again, but he could levitate, get back to the stairs at least. It won’t make up the distance he’s lost, but if he can just get back on the stairs he can start running upwards again. Will that be enough? He doesn’t know, he’s terrified it won’t be. But does he have anything better?

He drops past Lucius, who cries out in shock. “Birdie!”

I’m sorry, Lucius, Quill thinks. Just keep going, get out, please. The air is growing thinner as he falls further and further, too, as he plummets past the last stair and keeps falling… Will there be enough to fill his lungs, will he suffocate before he can reach the stairs again? The question snaps him out of his dazed despair, making him realise he should be trying to do something, and he begins to reach for his ring.

But - wait - no, please, no. Lucius, who had stopped dead as Quill fell past him, is now running back along the stairs towards him, Quill realizes in horror. Lucius should be trying to get further up, not coming back for him! He can see lightning beginning to form in the elf’s hands, running along his gauntlet, and he guesses it’s a Lightning Lure. Much as he wishes it could be otherwise, Quill knows it can’t work; he’s out of range already and falling further every instant - but then the lightning arcs out from Lucius’s hands, impossibly long, headed straight for Quill.

How - there’s no time to ask that, no time for anything almost. This is going to hurt, Quill knows, and he doesn’t care. It might - it just might - give him a chance. He spreads his wing out of the way and lets the lure wrap around his body, bracing himself for the pain. It hurts, oh H’Esper, it hurts - not just the spell itself, but mostly the overwhelming reminder of the Valley as lightning crackles through him again, of the bolt that tore away his wing. But it works, it’s pulling him back up, back towards Lucius. Then it vanishes, the magic expended, but he’s just within reach of the last step, and with a desperate lunge he manages to grip onto it. He’s - not saved, maybe, not yet, not with all the climb still to go, but he’s no longer falling at least. He has a chance again, Lucius has given him a chance. If only he hadn’t messed up his spell, hadn’t forgotten he needed to keep concentrating on the magical wing… Hadn’t let it fool him into believing he was whole… He may have been a great flier once, but he’s earthbound now; he won’t let himself forget it again.

******

Standing on the edge of the dark shaft leading to Zax Ravos’s escape ship, Quill hesitates a second. Does he dare use this spell again? He’s only used it once since the almost-disaster on Aegis V, when they destroyed the ILS and nearly wrecked the Stormchaser in the process. Then, he’d been so desperate to get back to Sentry after hearing Aila call out she was down, he’d had no time to doubt. This endless-seeming shaft in astral space, though, reminds him all too much of the astral citadel - but what choice does he have? It’s that or the ladder, and he knows he’ll just slow them all if he tries to climb down with his one arm. No, he has to fly. With a deep breath, he activates his ring, feeling the magical wing form once more, and leaps into the air.

He strains his eyes as he flies down, trying to make out an end to the shaft. He can’t see one, can barely see anything at all; the faint golden glow from Sentry’s matrix, that is the only light here as she hurries down the ladder, doesn’t illuminate much. How long do they have? He’d thought Aegis V was bad, but there at least they’d had some idea of how much time they had left. Here, there’s just the incomprehensible message blaring out, and the pulsing red light. What can he do? He’s probably the fastest of them all with this borrowed wing, and he can’t make himself any faster (he won’t repeat that mistake again) - can he make the others faster? Protect them somehow? He agrees with Lucius that the main ship is probably going to explode unless they can get to Zax and stop it, but he’s not sure whether being in this shaft will protect them much if it does. Perhaps if they can get into the tunnel he knows lies at the end they’ll be more shielded, at least?

His frantic thoughts are interrupted then, as what seems like a blue missile suddenly plunges past him into darkness. What - Nova! Did she fall off the ladder? Did she jump? Has she gone mad? Quill knows how desperately Nova wants this shard of Tiangong, but desperately enough to jump into this seemingly endless blackness? He strains his eyes even more, trying to make her out.

A yelp of pain echoes up from somewhere below, after far more time than Quill would have wanted. Then Lucius’s familiar dancing lights appear all around, spreading down the tunnel and showing a distant Nova, bent over and clutching at her knees, but still on her feet. Oh, thank the gods, Quill thinks, sighing with relief. She’s - probably not fine, she must have taken some damage from the impact, but she’s still standing, which is much better than what Quill had feared he’d see. With Lucius’s lights, he can gauge distance now, too. The bottom of the shaft is still quite a way away, even if he flies as quickly as he can - will he be in time to get down the tunnel the Eye showed him opening off it and stop Zax from escaping, stop this place from exploding?

There’s another option, of course, one Nova has just shown him. He’s been thrown from the skies before, after all, and he survived it (he knows how much it can hurt). But he has two wings right now. Once, he could have done it, he knows, would have revelled in the challenge, in the chance to demonstrate his flying prowess. Once, he would have done it without a second’s doubt. Can he still do it? Does he still have that skill? He could just keep flying, probably get to the bottom or near it, and perhaps he’d be safer from the explosion there; but there are his friends, too - Aila and Sentry are only about halfway down, and Lucius has barely gone any distance at all, he’d surely take the brunt of any explosion.

He has to do it. He has to try. With a deep breath, Quill folds his wings, closing his eyes for a moment as he drops. It feels so horribly familiar, so reminiscent of the Valley, of Aegis V… Part of him wants to back out, to spread his wings again immediately, but he ignores it. The vision he once had, of birds hiding in the sand or flying into the storm, comes back to him. I’m flying into the storm, H’Esper. Please, help me, he whispers, calling on that spark of magic within him. He’s not sure if it’s a new voice or a memory, but a soft answer sounds in his head. Trust your instincts. Trust in me, Quill. Now.

He opens his eyes again. He’s nearly at the bottom, he can see where the tunnel opens out now. He doesn’t think about it, doesn’t need to think. This is instinct, this is as if he’s back at his peak again, as if the Valley of Storms had never happened. Feathered wing and magical one fly open at the same moment, and he veers in mid-air and shoots down the tunnel, towards the ship he can now see at its end, engines on and door starting to close. With a final sweep of his wings, he reaches it, claws latching onto the top of the ramp. As he does, Nova runs up, screaming to the others that Zax is taking off, and they both dive into the ship together, the door closing behind them.

The next few moments are almost a blur, as he and Nova frantically try to deal with Zax Ravos and stop the explosion. But at last it’s over, at last Zax is unconscious on the floor between them and Quill’s succeeded in stopping the countdown. He just stands there for a few moments, trying to catch his breath again, while Nova drops to the ground next to the shard of Tiangong, and the rest of their friends scramble in through the door Aila has somehow managed to prise open.

“I turned off the thing, I turned off the thing, it’s off, no explosion or - or whatever was going to happen,” he explains, holding up the little control pad Zax had used and sighing with relief, as Lucius - the last of them - climbs through.

As he waves the pad at them, he suddenly realises it’s in his right hand, even though - does he have a left hand again? He glances down at the spectral wing. Yes, he does, but when he tries to discreetly tug his tunic with it, he finds he has no grip. He didn’t expect to be able to, really; the spell is meant for flying, he thinks it’s just his being a one-winged aarakocra that lets him channel it into a temporary wing. But the fact that he didn’t even try to use it, when he used to be left-handed… He’s not quite sure what to feel about that, so he shoves it away to consider later, and joins the discussion of what to do next.

Everyone agrees they should return to the main ship, and one thing Quill is certain of is that he does not want to climb a two hundred foot ladder with one arm if he has any choice! So after a quick look around the skiff, they head back up. Flying, he’s faster than any of the others, especially as Sentry is burdened with the unconscious Zax and Aila is helping an exhausted Nova along, while Lucius has stayed at the rear to better direct his dancing lights for them. So he’s back in the large hangar well ahead of them, with a little time still left on his magical wing and no-one to see him… He can’t resist the temptation. Flying out and to one side, so he can’t be seen from inside the shaft, he swoops up to the ceiling, indulging in a few brief aerobatics before slowly returning to the floor. It feels so natural, so easy… He can’t help wishing it could last, that he could have this back forever, not just for these few brief minutes. Maybe he shouldn’t have taken these moments of flying for fun, maybe he’s just made it worse… He shakes his head to clear it. Nova’s trying to make him a new wing, he reminds himself, and he has faith in her; he just needs to be patient. In the meantime, at least he has this spell, this way to give himself two wings when he needs them most - and he certainly needed them today, he couldn’t have made it down in time without them. For a moment, he relives in his mind the exhilaration of that wild dive down, of discovering he still has the skill to fly like that. Soon, he hopes, they’ll be back on Aerois, Nova will be able to finish her work, and he’ll truly have flying back for good.