All characters within this story, unless otherwise noted, are the creation and property of someone other than me. This story was written purely for fun, and I'm not making any money off of it. So call off your lawyers.

Nightshade, Philaemos, and Perry sprang from my mind. I'm willing to share, but who am I fooling? It's not like I can stop you.

-Recovery-

-Nightshade's POV-

"Ohhhh..."

Sitting up, I put a hand to my head. It felt like someone (possibly Rhinox) had punched me several times across the cranium.

When the feeling abated enough, I let my hand fall and looked around, trying to get a grip on my situation. It wasn't easy; my optic sensors had not yet been fully restored, and the further I tried to look, the blurrier the image appeared.

The first thing I noticed was that I wasn't where I had landed. Instead, I'd been placed carefully in what felt like a human bed. Certainly nothing on the Axalon had been so soft as my current accommodation. I even had a blanket; that was new.

The next thing that caught my attention was the fact that the energy surge I had experienced on my way here had mutated my body. Instead of robotic, the form I now wore was flesh-and-blood organic, which meant I wouldn't be able to transform, or radio for help. My appearance was very similar to my beast mode, except that the mobility of my skeletal structure was the same as my robot form.

What was it the humans called that phenomenon? Anthropo-something-or-other. Well, whatever it was, I'd switched between both forms several times. Adjusting to an "in-between" form shouldn't be too difficult. It was easy enough to figure out. I would walk as a biped rather than a quadruped. I took a couple of clicks to experiment with my forepaws, finding that they flexed and grasped exactly like my robot hands.

No, I corrected myself, not exactly. At rest, my forepaws naturally assumed a grasping position, as though my fingers were curled around the handle of a sword. A result of installing bat's feet, I realized; I'd read somewhere that that was how bats didn't fall from their ceiling perches when they were sleeping.

Lowering my paws, I noticed a bandage wrapped around my right elbow. A quick search of the rest of my new form revealed three other bandages. One was tied to my right ankle, another was wound around my stomach, and the last one was a splint, holding my left wing closed about four inches below the claw joint. All of which meant someone had been helping me recover from that rough landing. These organic forms were so slaggin' fragile.

Apart from the blanket and the scattering of bandages up and down my new body, I didn't have a thing on me, but that came as no surprise. I'd had no need for clothes when I'd left Earth, and couldn't have known that the energy surge would do this to me. I'd have to find some way of explaining that to whoever had brought me here, though.

More beds were arranged in neat rows around me, though none seemed filled. Taking my bound wounds into account, I surmised that the room I now occupied was probably an "infirmary", the human equivalent of a Restoration Chamber. I'd been lucky enough to get a bed near the window, and sunlight was shining through it now. The rest of the room was just a blur of red.

"Ah. Finally, you're awake," a voice said, in a slow, deliberate manner. I turned my head toward the source, but could only see a green and tan shape. "Good to see you've made it."

I blinked hard, trying to bring back some far-distance focus. "Rhinox? Is that you?"

As soon as I asked, I knew it couldn't be Rhinox. This person was speaking with an Earth dialect--Middle ages English, unless I was mistaken--and Rhinox preferred Cybertronian over human speech. I suppose I was lucky; having heard a human language, I'd instinctively responded in kind. Had I replied in Cybertronian, it would likely have only confused this person.

"Sorry. I don't know any 'Rhinox'." The stranger approached the side of the bed, his image slowly sharpening until I could make out the individual features of a large hedgehog, bipedal like myself, wearing a green robe of some kind or another, and sandals. "My name is Egburt Spearback. And you are?"

"Raving mad to have taken this journey so unprepared," I deadpanned. "But my friends call me Nightshade. Any other questions, Mr. Spearback?"

"Just plain Brother Egburt will do. And I'm certain the Abbess Mhera would probably ask you the same questions at dinner that I would ask here. Just as I'm certain that you have more questions than I do. So I'll try to answer as best I can."

"Okay." Making sure to shift the blanket to keep my lower torso covered, I turned to face the hedgehog, and let my feet dangle over the side of the bed. "I'll start you off with the easy ones: Where am I, who brought me here, and how long have I been asleep?"

"You are in the infirmary of Redwall Abbey. I have been assisting your recovery since the Skipper and Deyna brought you in yesterday afternoon."

"My deepest gratitude, then, to all of you." I inclined my head toward the hedgehog. "Next, and don't sugarcoat it: How long, in your professional opinion, will it be before I can properly see again?"

"With only minimal head injuries, I suspect that your eyes simply need time to adjust. It shouldn't be long at all."

I realized quickly that Egburt was right. While we'd been talking, the room had slowly been coming into focus. With a few more hard blinks, everything was as sharp as before.

"Well, that's cleared that up, then." Another wave of pain hit me, and I returned my paw to my cranium. "Next question: What can you do for a head that feels like it's been shoved between two of these blocks?" I patted the wall beside me with my free paw.

"Well, for that..." The hedgehog walked to a supply cabinet, pulled out a small pitcher, and poured some of the contents into a smooth carved wooden mug, which he then carried back to my bed. "Drink this. It'll take care of that headache in no time."

"Thank you." Accepting the cup, I took a cautious sip. Flinching at the taste, I nevertheless drained the herbal concoction as quickly as I could stand to, then returned the mug. "How bad are my injuries right now, and how soon can I be expected to recover fully? And again, don't sugarcoat it. If it's bad, I want to know."

"It's not too bad, all things accounted for. The worst of it is the sprain in your left wing. You shouldn't try to fly again until tomorrow morning, at least."

"Yeah, that landing was pretty rough."

"Well, other than that, you should be well enough to move freely by dinnertime. You woke up just in time, too. I was beginning to worry that you were going to sleep through the Summer Feast tomorrow night."

"Which brings me to my final question: When's lunch?"

"You just missed it, actually. But I will bring a tray up, and something for you to wear. That was one of the strangest things about you, if I am not too bold by saying; you didn't have a thing on you when Deyna found you, except this." He reached into a pocket of his robe and pulled out a circular, onyx-black medallion bearing the Maximal insignia in silver. The medallion hung from a matching black chain.

My spy mentality told me it was moment-of-truth time. "I've heard bolder," I said dismissively, accepting the pendant. "The fact is, I didn't expect to be knocked out of the sky; certainly not by a stray wind. This is all I really had to wear in the first place."

"Well, you'll have something soon enough. Our Head Chef, Broggle, took the necessary measurements as soon as I had bound your wounds. He's quite handy with a needle, (although where he finds the time I can't say) and he's working on something for you even as we speak, using one of the Skipper's spare tunics as a template. He just needs a little more time to put on the finishing touches. He's always been a little finicky about detail, but don't tell him I said that."

"My lips are sealed."

"Now, I shouldn't keep a hungry beast waiting, so I'll get that tray for you." Putting the cup in a washbasin, Egburt walked out of the infirmary.

"I'll be here!" I called after him. I caught a flicker of a ghost of a smile on the healer's face as he turned into the hall.

By the time Egburt returned, the herbal painkiller had run its course, leaving my head feeling much better. I had already placed the medallion around my neck, and the chain was only barely visible against my fur.

Egburt was carrying a small folding table. He was followed by a young mouse, dressed in a similar green robe and sandals, and lugging a flagon and a bowl of hot fish stew with an ornate spoon handle sticking out over the rim.

"Here, let me help you with that," I offered. As soon as Egburt got close enough, I reached out and grabbed the table, locking the top in place while the hedgehog relieved the mouse of the bowl.

"You'll enjoy this," Egburt said, placing the bowl on the table. "Be careful; it's fresh from the pot."

"Sounds good," I replied, breathing deep. "And it smells delicious."

"You'll like this too," the mouse said, holding up the flagon. "October Ale is one of the things Redwall is famous for."

"Thank you." Accepting the drink, I placed it next to the bowl. "My name's Nightshade. What's yours?"

"It's Perry."

"Well, Perry, judging from what I've seen so far, I'm willing to bet that well-mannered creatures like yourself are another side of Redwall's fame."

Apparently embarrassed by the compliment, the young mouse averted his eyes for a second, then returned his gaze to my face. "There's something I'd like to ask you, if that's okay."

"Sure, fire away."

Perry pointed at the splint on my wing. "When that heals, will you take me flying? I've often wondered what it feels like."

"Well, I'm not really built for passengers, but I think you're small enough." I smiled and pointed out the window, toward the outer wall. "Tomorrow after lunch, meet me on the walltop. You're going to love it, I can tell you that. Nothing in the world can compare to the feeling of the wind beneath you."

"Thank you." Bowing slightly, Perry walked calmly from the room. As soon as he was out of sight, however, I could hear a quiet, but plainly joyful cheer.

Having watched the mouse exit the room, Egburt turned back toward me. "Perry lives for discovery. He's always interested in something new or different."

"Well, he and I should get along just fine, then." Lifting the spoon from the bowl, I blew at the contents, popped the spoonful in my mouth, and pulled out the empty spoon.

I shifted the chunks of fish and vegetables around my mouth a bit, then swallowed. "You were right. This is good." In truth, it was better than anything I'd ever tasted before, but I suspected that if I stayed here, then that would change before long. After all, I didn't have any real experience in the concept of "food."

"I'm glad you like it. Your clothes should be done by now, so I'll just go get them," Egburt said. "When you've finished eating, I'd like to take a moment to reexamine your wounds, and then you'll be free to walk around the Abbey."

"Not a problem at all."

Egburt left me to my meal, returning just as I was washing down the last of my stew with the last drop of October Ale from the flagon.

"Did you enjoy that?" he asked, placing a set of neatly folded clothing on the bed next to mine.

"It appears I spoke too soon when I said nothing compares to the thrill of flying," I said, putting down the flagon. "Certainly, this meal was a very close approximation, though it was a different manner of thrill."

"So, you did enjoy it then."

"Yes, a good deal."

"I'm glad to hear that." After moving the folding table carefully out of the way, Egburt stepped closer, reaching for the bandage on my right arm--then pulled back as I stiffened up instinctively.

"Relax, please. This is only routine follow-up."

"I'm sorry." I tried to will my hackles back down, but unfortunately, epinephrine doesn't come with an override. "It's just... medical needs, by necessity of circumstance, had to be handled very differently at my previous home."

"In what way?"

"Well, first and foremost, I've never had to be carried to the doctor before, or even had to ask how bad it was. We of the Axalon were all trained to know at the drop of a hat if we needed medical attention, and always had at least a small idea of what was wrong with us. On top of that, there often wasn't time for any follow-up, routine or otherwise."

"What kind of circumstances could bring on such necessity?"

"The same kind that left me without anything to wear." I held out my arm.

Egburt placed his paws on the bandage, gently but firmly pressing his fingers into the material. "How does that feel?"

"Like a massage."

"Hmmm." Slowly, Egburt untied the bandage, pulled it off of my elbow, and placed it on the bed next to my clothes. He then pressed his fingers into my exposed arm. "How about that?"

"Same. Right down to the afterglow."

"No pain?"

"Not even the discomfort of sand in your sandal."

"Then there's no more need for this." Egburt folded the bandage into a nine-inch-long bundle, using the ends to tie the layers in place, and then dropped to one knee next to my bed, facing toward the headboard. "Right leg."

Obediently, I lifted my foot, waiting while Egburt guided it so that the calf muscle rested on his raised knee.

Egburt pressed his fingers against the bound ankle, and again inquired toward the result.

"Same," I said curtly.

Wordlessly, the healer removed the binding, repeated the process, and gave me a questioning look.

"Less afterglow," was my reply. "But in essence, it's still the same."

Nodding as though he'd expected that response, Egburt gently removed my leg from his own, stood up, folded the cloth strip, and placed it next to the first one. "Turn around, please."

Properly trusting the healer by now, I swung my shins up and twisted on my butt, coming to rest with my back to the hedgehog.

I felt Egburt place his paws on either side of my back, just below and between my wings. "How's this?"

"More of the same." Knowing the routine, I opened the knot that was resting against my stomach, unwound the binding, and twitched ever so slightly as Egburt's paws returned to my back.

"And this?" Egburt asked.

"Tickles just a bit." I smiled back at the healer, handing him the dressing. "Nothing new about that, though."

"Okay, then." Egburt placed the folded bandage next to its brothers, as I turned back to face him. "Now, before I continue, I should tell you that this is probably going to hurt."

"I'm no stranger to pain," I replied, lowering my left wing as much as I could, bound as it was. "So whatever it is you're doing, do it."

"All right." Egburt opened my splint, removing the boards that had been holding my wing in place. The bandage holding it all together flopped down over my wing as soon as the space between them was cleared. He then reached up to the space below the claw joint, and... stopped where he was. "You're sure you're ready for this?"

"Every time you ask, I become less certain," I told him. "But if it's all the same to you, I'd rather not prolong it."

"On five, then," Egburt said. "One..." He grabbed my wing and held on tight with both paws.

To my credit, I held myself moderately still, but I couldn't (and didn't try to) stop a loud pained growl from escaping. "What in the name of Primus happened to five?"

"At five, you would have tensed up again," he said, still holding on as though for dear life. Not that holding on was increasing his chances right now. "I had to catch you off guard while you were still relaxed, to make it hurt less."

"You tricked me."

"For your own good. And I know that that doesn't make it any less annoying." Not hesitating any further, the healer worked over my wing joint, making certain all of the bones were aligned properly.

I responded with a few more pained winces, but I realized that the speed of Egburt's movements was helping me; each new sting was dulled somewhat by the one before.

"All seems to be in order," Egburt said finally. Releasing my wing, he removed the loose strip of cloth from around it and took a few steps back. "Give it a few flaps; see how it feels."

When I opened my wing, it made a noise like a human cracking his knuckles. I didn't know if that was normal after a day in a splint, but it didn't hurt anymore, which I assumed was a good sign.

Taking it slow to work out the stiffness, I flexed my wings open and shut a few times, noticing as I did so that my wings seemed more flexible than before. At their full extent, they spanned close to twelve feet, but I could fold my wings so small that--with adequate restraint--I might be able to hide them under a shirt, if I was of a mind to do so. This also meant that my wings wouldn't get in my way in a fight.

Once the muscle cramps eased, I pushed back and forth on my shoulder blades, letting the air pulse under both wings. I suspected that at least some of the windblast was hitting Egburt in the face, but the hedgehog didn't say or do anything about it. So either it wasn't, or it was and he thought he deserved it, or was enjoying it.

Both my wings felt fine, and Egburt seemed pleased when I said so, but stood behind his previous recommendation that I not try to fly again until the next day.

"In the meantime," he added, "make sure you stretch them every now and then to keep them from stiffening up."

"Stretch my wings to avoid muscle cramps. Got it."

"Well, that concludes the exam." Egburt passed me the set of clothes, and I put them down on my lap.

"I do have one other question, though," he said, sitting down where the clothes had been.

"What's that?" I asked, holding up the tunic for a closer look. It was navy blue in color, with a wavy pattern of dusk-gold embroidery along the neckline, and had short sleeves and slots down the back for my wings.

"Who's Primus?"

Mentally, I almost froze right there. In my pain and anger, I'd let the name slip out, and now I had to think of a cover story--fast. Well, no greater cover than the truth.

"He's the patron spirit of my people," I told him, lowering the tunic to my lap again. "We look to him for guidance and protection."

"Is that his symbol on your pendant?"

"Well, yes and no. The medallion I wear is the symbol of my people. Some, myself included, believe this means that it is also Primus's symbol. But this insignia was adopted sometime after the Great War, which ended a long time ago. Primus's original insignia is all but lost to history now. Few claim to remember exactly what it looked like, and fewer still can reproduce it."

"Could you tell me about this war?"

I had to act fast, and perform well. If he kept questioning me, I would let something slip that was harder to cover up. I gave him a just-loud-enough-to-be-heard sigh of veiled impatience before I responded, slipping in an annoyed undertone for good measure. "Could you at least let me get dressed before you interrogate me?"

Judging by Egburt's scared expression and echoing apology, that had hit him harder than I'd intended it to. "Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. You're right, I-I-I shouldn't have... Sorry."

Skip forward to Scene Two: Damage Control. I immediately shifted my own face to one of open concern. "No, I'm sorry. These last few days haven't been the best of my life; I've been on edge all week. Except to bring me here when my wings gave out, fate has done me no favors on my journey so far. And I'm sorry if I sound ungrateful, because I'm not, but ultimately, that may not prove as large a favor as it now seems. I will answer your questions, and the Abbess's, as soon as I understand the full significance of this turn of events. Deal?"

"All right then." Egburt stood up. "I'll let the Abbess know you've awakened, and inform her of your request for time to think. When you are ready, give your story to Rosabel. As our Recorder, she'll want to write it down for the archives." So saying, he walked out of the room, gently closing the door behind him.

I took a moment to consider the information I'd gathered so far.

Redwall Abbey. Back on Cybertron, before I'd first gone chasing after Cheetor, Daniel had told me a few things about the place, but I'd been under the impression that no such place actually existed. The very idea that rodents could develop enough intelligence to build a fortress of stone seemed preposterous.

Still, as an infiltration unit, I had to accept the facts when they slapped me in the face, as this had. And from an objective scientific standpoint, it fit together. The Vok had said, "Many of Philaemos's victims are still tied to their respective realities, unwilling to leave for want of justice." So if the dimension theory of reality held true, then it stood to reason that what was fiction in my reality was fact in another. And somehow, I had jumped between the two.

The creatures here were having a feast tomorrow night. I figured I was safe until then, but I still needed some form of story to tell them. And I would spend the time I had coming up with one.

With that in mind, I took another look at the clothes I had been issued with. The pants were child's play to figure out. My tail goes through the hole in the back. Simple. The tunic was slightly more difficult, until I noticed the columns of buttons at the waist; one column of three, just outside each wing. Then it became clear. Lower the center flap in the back between my wings, close it using the tabs on either side. The clothing felt pleasant over my fur, and my wings still had free movement.

Once everything was in place, with my medallion displayed over my tunic, I opened the infirmary door, and began my preliminary trip around the abbey.

-End Chapter One-