A/N: Well, it's that time again, and another chapter rolls around. I myself am currently very ill, so if I'm a little late next week try not to torch me. Due to the fact that so many people found it vastly amusing, I will be doing a Chapter for Dummies at the bottom. Enjoy.

The staircase wound on and on, and the fluorescent lights became torches on the walls. In the half-light, the only thing he could see clearly was Knowledge's billowing golden cloak as she descended in front of him, glasses glinting occasionally when she turned to note his progress. He turned his eyes to the stairs themselves, watching them flick by his feet. Step, step, step, step, down, down, down, down. Deeper and deeper into the encroaching darkness.

Finally, he took another step and felt the floor wobble beneath him. Glancing down in alarm, he saw that this step was little more than three stacks of books lined up with the staircase. The next step was the same, and the one after that.

Knowledge continued to move along the teetering stairs easily, and Beast Boy quickly transformed into a pigeon to perch on her shoulder. She gave him a blank glance, but seemed to understand. On and on the stairs went, Titles flashing beneath them now rather than stones, and Beast Boy began to read them for lack of anything better to do.

Moby Dick, Romeo and Juliet, Webster's Dictionary, The Encyclopedia Britanica (volume three). There seemed to be no order to them. At last, the walls of the staircase opened into the largest room Beast Boy had ever seen. This was not to say that they were once more on solid ground, however. The entire floor was coated with an ocean of books, perhaps hundreds of feet deep. Mountains of thick, heavy volumes towered over them, seeming ready to fall at any moment.

The entire room was filled with the smell one acquainted with learning: dust, paper, old leather, and ink. Knowledge inhaled contentedly, continuing to move toward the center of the room. Beast Boy crouched on her shoulder to take flight and explore, but she turned her head toward him. "There will be time for that later. Right now, we have much to discuss."

Resigning himself to the impending conversation, he settled once more. There was another set of stairs in the center of the room, leading up to a platform Beast Boy couldn't see the top of. Knowledge began to climb the rickety books once more, and silence pressed in around them. When they arrived at the crest of the staircase, Beast Boy took in the centerpiece of Knowledge's office. It was a small platform, barely big enough for what it held, which was a humble oak desk and a matching chair. Knowledge sat down in the chair, and summoned a stack of books from an adjacent pile for Beast Boy to sit on. He complied obediently, and the yellow-robed Raven adjusted her glasses in a business-like fashion.

"You have questions. I have answers. What is that term young people sometimes use? Ah, yes. Shoot."

Immediately, Beast Boy leaned forward and asked his first question. "How did Raven get into that dungeon in the first place?"

Knowledge sat back, eyes far-off. "Of course. That is a good question. A moment, if you please."

A portion of the desk glowed black, and a one-drawer filing cabinet rose from its surface. Knowledge shuffled through the files, mumbling incoherently to herself, before settling on one and pulling it out. "This is the file which contains the data you seek," she said, as the cabinet sank once more into the desk. "Let's take a peek."

Opening the manilla folder, she removed a sheaf of papers. "Here it is. Raven was following a lead given to her by a contact in the police department. She was fresh out of Azarath at the time, her powers limited, and knew that the best way to get started on the path to becoming a vigilante was to bring down a notable criminal. Her contact told her of a serial killer who had been popping up all over the city, and she became set on hunting down said killer. Someone reported seeing a young woman vanish repeatedly into a small patch of forest just outside of town, sometimes alone and sometimes in the company of varied others. They claimed that whenever they saw her leaving she was without escort.

"Raven went to the forest to investigate, but a trap had been laid for her. Apparently, two members of her informant's family were being held hostage by the girl, and he'd tipped her off in exchange for their freedom. Needless to say, she didn't grant it. Their bodies were never recovered.

"Having sprung the trap, Raven tried to escape via her powers. Unfortunately, they were weakened by her dimensional transfer. The girl realized that voice commands activated the powers, and gagged her. She stayed shackled to the wall for several days, the girl occasionally returning to break one or two of her captive's bones. When she returned with another victim and slowly disemboweled him before Raven's eyes, it was too much for her. Raven's emotions needed no vocal command, and freed her from her bonds. The rest, I think, you've already seen." The manilla folder vanished.

Beast Boy sat for a moment, letting the information sink in. When he had recovered from his initial shock, he asked his next question. "What does this have to do with Raven's illness?"

If Knowledge was capable of being sad, he knew she would have been now. When she spoke, her voice was low and even. "No matter how righteous one's intentions are, murder is murder. In defense of herself and another, Raven killed a human being. The result was a feeling of guilt. Raven is very special, Beast Boy. You know this better than anyone. Before she came to Earth, she was raised by Azarathian monks. She never did anything worthy of guilt, not once. Because of this, when she felt this emotion for the first time, she couldn't handle it. Her emotional capacity overloaded, and she was left weakened. A new Facet, Guilt, was born at that very instant in her head.

"Because Raven had been so weak and exhausted at the moment of Guilt's birth, she did not have the energy to acknowledge it properly. It was born in the backwaters of her consciousness, left to create itself however it saw fit. When someone feels guilty, they can only think about what has made them so. For Raven, that was the girl she had killed. When Guilt, still molding its shape, saw that image, it crafted itself to look like her.

"Here's where things get really complicated. Because the girl had been killed so recently, her soul was still hanging around her body. When it recognized something so familiar being created inside of Raven's head, it entered the Facet and took Guilt's place. It was still weak, however, and has been building strength ever since. Last night, it finally gained enough power to attack Raven's physical systems. Once it weakens her, it will find Raven in her own head and kill her, taking over her body to live out what it considers to have been an unfinished life."

This answer was even more alarming than the last, and Beast Boy took quite some time drinking it in. When he finally regained his composure, he asked his final question. "Who exactly was that girl?"

Now Knowledge smiled, though there was no joy in her eyes. "I have been waiting for you to ask that question. The truth is, no one knows. Not me, not Raven, not even the girl herself. Around here, we just call her the Victim. The one thing we do know is that before she became that nameless killer, she was someone else. Something drove her over the edge, causing even herself to forget. My theory is that if we can remind her of this, remind her of who she was before, she may revert. It's a vague chance, but it's all I can come up with.

"That," she said softly, "is why you're here. None of us can retrieve the Victim's memories from the Abyss where forgotten things go. It has to be a whole person. Raven is in no fit state to Bind us into one. You're our only chance. It's you who must save Raven, you who must find the one thing that could defeat the Victim: her name."

The Abyss was well-named. It stretched on as far as the eye could see, and was a mile wide at the edge. Below, pitch-blackness greeted the eyes. Faint sounds of running water could be heard from far, far below, but no river could be seen.

Beast Boy and Knowledge stood in a landscape evanescent of the Grand Canyon after nightfall. Stars twinkled merrily in the sky, but the great silver moon failed to cast any light into the darkness below. If one were to pick up a stone from the floor in this strange environment, they would see that each pebble was painted all the way around with a moving picture. A memory. The effect gave the ground the appearance of a writhing nest of some unidentified but beautiful insect. They were in the dwelling place of Memory, inside of Raven's head. The Abyss was, as Knowledge had told him, the final resting place of forgotten things.

"When the Victim entered Raven's head," the gold-cloaked Raven lectured Beast Boy, "her essence melded with Raven's. Theoretically, her forgotten past should be down there along with the things that were down there before."

"So..." Beast Boy trailed off uncertainly, "Everything Raven ever forgot should be down there too?"

"Precisely. You don't have much time, Beast Boy. I can feel the Victim breaking down Raven's mind. She'll get to my office soon. I'll be waiting when you return. Be quick." Knowledge gestured toward the Abyss. "We're all counting on you."

Beast Boy nodded, and quickly took the form of a peregrine falcon. Rising above the Abyss, he folded in his wings and plummeted into the darkness below.

It seemed like forever he was diving through that darkness. It pressed in on him, trying to pinion his wings, to cripple him. He fought it for control, struggling against a foe he couldn't see. The sound of water grew slowly louder, and then it was suddenly an exploding rush of rapids. He broke free from the blackness, his wings exploding outward to fill with air, and he slowed to a slow, steady flapping.

The blackness was above him, blotting out his view of the sky. Below, the river wound on into the distance. It was far from being a clean river. Quite the contrary. It was filled with all manner of junk, things either Raven or the Victim had long forgotten. He quickly surmised that the only way to effectively search for anything was to enter the river himself. As if reading his mind, the rapids vanished. Now the river was slow and smooth, perfect for sloshing around in.

He landed, returning to his human form, and began his search. Each individual item he passed his eyes over was a scrap of strange, broken histories. A tire the Victim had changed, a cloak Raven had lost. Some of his finds were more disturbing: a dead pet, a severed head. In some places, the smell of perfume rose from the water. In others, it ran red with blood.

As he bent to inspect a soggy piece of paper, Beast Boy felt something brush past his ankle. He jumped, eyes darting to the water, to see something rising out of it. The thing was human-shaped, seven feet tall, and menacing. Red eyes glowed in a shadowy face, and Beast Boy, though terrified, tried desperately to recognize that face.

"You're not supposed to be here," a hissing whisper of a voice stated. He realized it was the shadow. "No one's supposed to be here. Who are you?" It's voice grew angry, outline shaking slightly.

"Uh," Beast Boy muttered, rubbing the back of his head, "I'm Beast Boy, and I'm here to find something. Who're you?"

"Prisoner number six-six-six. Get out. Leave NOW!" It raised an arm menacingly, eyes glowing with more ferocity than before.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Can't we talk this out?" he leapt backwards, stumbling over a lone boot. The guard swung an arm down at him in a deadly arc, and Beast Boy rolled through the water. This was not an optimal battle environment. The river slowed his movements, making everything he did sluggish and predictable. Quickly adjusting to his surroundings, Beast Boy took the shape of an alligator. He snapped viciously at the guard, but his teeth went straight through, closing on themselves painfully. Wincing, he whipped his tail at the imposing figure. No good.

The arm swung down again, fingers lengthening until they closed around the helpless changeling like bars of a cage. Snarling, Beast Boy writhed violently-- and rolled straight through the fingers. The guard was insubstantial! Now he understood! This wasn't really a person, it was the memory of one. All of the other objects were material because they were inanimate. It was harder to entirely forget a person. This man--or memory, whatever it was--was only half-forgotten.

Its fists slammed through him, causing no damage at all. The red eyes glared in frustration as the thing came at him again and again, plowing into his unresisting body until it realized the futility of its fight. Halting in the advance, it cocked its head at him. "This fight it pointless. Do not tarry long." With that, the half-thing walked resolutely away.

Staring after it, Beast Boy wondered if whatever that thing was had been entirely sane. Having decided to follow that particular train of thought on some later date, he turned his attention back to the piece of paper he had been about to investigate before he was so rudely interrupted.

He unfolded it carefully, so as not to rip it at the seams, and peered at the smudged ink. It was a diary entry, he realized. Most of the writing had run together, but he could make out some of it.

Dear Diary,

It seems strange to...you now, when I cannot speak...drowning in my own words. No one else...suppose that's why I need you so much. I don't like my dolls as much as I used to, you know. I feel like they're mocking...there a reason, do you think? People...irritating every day. They incessantly scream in my ears...white noise sometimes...like parasites...understand my reasons for hating the...says I'm being silly. He's right. I...Sometimes, though, I can't help feeling like someone...laughing. I feel like they know what's happening to me. I feel like...the catalyst. I feel like I'm going insane.

Sincerely,

Catherine

Bingo.

A/N: And now, for those of you who didn't understand the above pages, your salvation has arrived.

Knowledge: Welcome to my office, which is most certainly not based on a dream the author had several months ago in which she was crushed by a falling mountain of books. Nooo. What could have ever made you think such a thing?

Beast Boy: Too true. Please answer my question which is in no way intended to easily explain what the author would otherwise have to spend hours weaving into the plot.

Knowledge: Of course! Raven, in an attempt to be a good samaritan, tried to get the bad guy. She got screwed over and was hideously tortured by a madwoman (wow, that wasn't really funny, was it?).

Beast Boy: Please explain in a long and tedious manner why the madwoman is in Raven's head. Surely the audience will be interested in this!

Knowledge: explains in a long and tedious manner why the madwoman is in Raven's head

Me: glancing at fanfic Hey, this made a lot more sense when I wrote it. Oh well, I'm sure most of the people reading this will have had a few years of advanced psychology classes, and without a doubt they will all be devout Buddhists. It should go over well.

Knowledge: I will now relate a plan which has a one-in-a-million chance of working, but of course it will succeed, because happy endings sell. And once again I end a scene dramatically!

Bingham the Magical Scene Divider: Wheee!

Beast Boy: SHORT AND POINTLESS QUEST! This is doubtless the time for a revelation about memories. Oh, look! Her name is Catherine!

Me: I have birthed an abomination. is beaten to death by angry Facets