Author's Note: Hi everyone! So this is my first Teen Titans fanfic and I hope you guys like it! I've worked on this for MONTHS and I've finally decided to post it! I'll try my best to get a chapter in every month around this time, but since my chapters are kinda long, I hope that it's okay that I don't post as frequently :) Remember, I'm open for suggestions, requests and ideas in your reviews. Hope you guys like the intro!

Amnesia

BOOK ONE

Chapter 1: Where to Begin

The second my heavy eyelids subconsciously lifted above my glassy, unresponsive eyes, revealing a pair of dilated pupils encircled by amethyst frames, I snapped awake. My vision deteriorated as it became engulfed by a blinding hue of white; the dreamless state that had occupied my eyes impaired them, the sudden exposure of the illumination stimulating the rapid infusion of adrenaline into a highway of my veins. An erratic heart began to kick my chest, my lungs quickly inflating then spitting out exasperated sighs with each breath. A chilling sweat drizzled down the back of my neck while my forehead was tender and swollen from a fever, wrenching my mind into a trance of delirium. My glazed faculty of sight was disoriented, frantic eyes darting through the effulgent atmosphere to seek dimension. Blinking away a simmering film of salted water, my bottom lip starting to quiver, my chest suddenly swelled from alarm.

Why can't I see anything? I thought madly. Have I gone blind?

My smoked thoughts were already producing vague scenarios to what had become of me, inducing my pulse to crescendo in tempo.

A command upon a thought rushed through a series of nerves until they reached a limp hand laying awkwardly beside me. Frigid fingers hesitantly rose from the cushioned surface I had awoken on, flinching as they carefully flexed in demonstration as an assurance of their usage. Diverting my eyes, I watched as my other hand nervously stretched its muscles, remembering each movement that could be performed. Instinctively, my legs began shifting uncomfortably, my toes wiggling in memory of their existence. Adventurous fingers began to stroke the material they had rested on, relying on the sensation prickling my fingertips as an aid to discovering my origin. I gathered up a great sum of the fabric and gripped them tightly between curled digits, my fist pounding the plush facet my languid body was laid upon.

A mattress, I concluded to myself. But- but why a mattress? How could I have been put here?

Knowing that every limb of my body was functioning properly to my satisfaction, I thought that perhaps moving around a bit more might explain the confusion. Blinking furiously against the harsh light constricting my vision, I started worming around, forcing my limbs to work together. My legs rustled along the sheets that blanketed that mattress, sticking to the material due to the pebbles of sweat peppering my skin. Combining the strength of my arms, I propped them up beneath me and heaved, raising forward from the horizontal position I had been in, my head reclined on what I presumed to be a pillow. About halfway from sitting up, I felt something that had been attached to my lower wrist give a tug, causing me to wince. Leaning down to peer at my arm, squinting through the veil of light, I drew in a gasp when I identified it as a thin, hollow needle.

It had been properly injected into a particularly large vein and was attached to a tube from an upside-down bottle of transparent fluid, the pole that held up a machine hooked up to the bottle allowing only drops to be fed into the clear, plastic piping. I traced the tube and examined the machine, observing the knobs, switches, and dials that contributed to different modes, settings, and actions for the device to perform. Only after seeing the needle penetrating the flesh of my left arm did I notice another set of tubing that coiled around my face and stuck up into each nostril of my nose. It was attached to another apparatus, this one containing a glass cylinder with a pump that extended after each exhale and condensed after each inhale, the tubing flooded with oxygen to maintain a proper breathing pattern. A clip on the finger of my right hand told of my current pulse, while a plastic band around my arm connected to an appliance, using thin wiring, with a small monitor, reading blood pressure and internal balance.

A complete medical set.

My hands grasped the metal rungs that extended out on either side of the bed.

I'm in a medical examination ward. I thought slowly, realization dawning on me.

I swallowed the lump that was sticking to my throat, obstructing what little air I could grasp.

I'm in a hospital.

I raised my right hand, the one that wasn't constantly being fed a mysterious liquid that gave off a sickening sterile scent, and pawed away the tears that were welling up in my eyes. Sniffing, I attempted to sit up again, succeeding to do so, although my drugged body was too feeble to do much else. The white light had began to fade, allowing a meager highlight of the room I was in, but after sheltering my eyes with a hand, definition was an accomplished factor. Though my vision was still quite blurry, my eyes were able to decipher the contrasts of color, and explore the chamber I had woken up in.

The room had 4 large walls, framing a rectangular plane that was large in lateral area with a flat, low-lying ceiling, providing maximum space with a slick, modern interior. The room was completely sealed, no door in sight, however to the very right, a whole wall was dedicated for the presence of a large glass window. There were three gurneys pushed up against the wall adjacent to the window and each were cloaked in antiseptic sheets, were accompanied by an IV stand, and hooked up with various machines to monitor a patient's homeostasis along the headrest of the bed. Sitting in the confined bed farthest to the left, a tall white cabinet with glass doors towered beside me, it's shelves neatly arranged, yet highly cluttered, with containers of pills dyed every pigment imaginable and varying sizes of glass bottles, plugged with corks, and filled with supposed elixirs to aid a body's immune system. The nearby corner had connecting counters, with small drawers and more glass-door cabinets that were painted white, it's countertops filled with racks of medical files, a scale to measure the dosage of a medication, and technological equipment that I couldn't identify. A large sink was attached to the wall directly in front of me, followed by a partially-opened closet, the inside lined with white shelves that contained more medicine and miscellaneous tools, paraphernalia, and gear that were very similar to what a doctor would use to perform internal surgery. There was a large absence of furniture to the very right of the room, excluding a small keypad that was hung at about chest-height, the same area of the wall sharing the right corner with the grand window, its glass tinted a darker hue so it appeared opaque from this point-of-view. The air was musty and reeked of sterile alcohol, and blinding ceiling lights blared down at me, the white walls and tiled flooring of the room seemingly enhancing the light's intensity. Combining the idea of being alone yet positive the room was being shared, I felt my shoulders sag, a weariness overwhelming me.

The walls seemed too tight around me. It seemed to be too close for comfort. With no exit in sight, being sealed down in a dank environment, yet enclosed in white walls, seemed terrifying.

No fresh air vents, I thought. No window to gaze outside. No where to hide and surely no where to run.

I am utterly trapped here.

The feeling of claustrophobia was rising in my internal meters, my throat suddenly squeezing shut as though I was being choked by an invisible force.

Stuck, I told myself. In this little hospital. How could I have gotten IN here if there isn't an entrance anyway?

But by then, I had already stopped thinking.

Little hospital...

That's it! I exclaimed, my chest starting to rise and fall rapidly. This CAN'T be a hospital. It's obviously too small! There's 3 gurneys here; only 3 patients can occupy this room at once.

However, it surely did appear as a medical office. It had the doctoral equipment and endless supplies of medication to prove its authority.

Perhaps it's just a smaller version, I assured myself.

Why would I be calming myself about a different location that is JUST as bad as my current origin?

Maybe I'm just placed in the Medical Examination Facility in a hospital...

By then, my stomach had dropped.

Medical Examination Facility?!

None of these ideas about where I was had any appeal. I didn't know whether I was being incubated or being prepped for surgery. I was a nervous wreck to find out.

What could be wrong with me? I thought, considering the suggestion of surgery.

Besides the grogginess I was experiencing after awaking from a deep slumber, I felt completely fine. I was petrified at the situation, confused of the intentions of the individual who had set me here and prepared the gurney specifically for me, but my physical condition wasn't at a huge disadvantage. However, just the sight of everything; the disinfected medical tools, the emptiness of the chamber, and the endless amount of white that met my eyes; I became so frightened that I started to back away from it all, moving across the mattress until my back hit the wall. There, I curled my legs up and set my feet on the confined bed, my arms carefully hugging them to my chest, allowing my chin the rest on my knees. After taking a shaky inhale, I meekly spoke up.

"Hello?" I croaked, surprised at how my voice splintered like broken glass due to my inability to drink any fluids over the long period of time. My tongue had lost all of its moisture and was as hard as a rock, feeling like sandpaper in a mouth that must have swallowed a gallon of sand as I had slept.

I quickly cleared my throat and tried again softly.

"H- hello? Is anyone there?"

After a patient silence, I spoke up again, more to myself.

"Where am I?"

Nothing.

I bit my lip nervously, quickly rubbing the crust from my eyes.

"Please. Please."

Still nothing.

A whimper escaped past my dry, cracked lips. My eyes leered momentarily at the sink, dreaming of leaving the gurney without a problem, switching on the knob to signal cold water, and sticking my whole face beneath the faucet. The thought made my mouth seem even more arid.

"Please! Is someone there? Someone?"

I held back a muffled sob, but managed to choke out one last word.

"Anyone?!"

Just as those words had spilled from my lips, the blank wall beside the closet suddenly started to split open.

Yes, it was opening!

It is opening. It's opening! Opening? How could it be opening?

But it was.

I watched in awe as the white wall beside the metal keypad slid across the floor and condensed into the wall, revealing a dark corridor beyond the florescent lights.

There was a wall there, I told myself slowly, almost pondering the probability of such an occurrence to exist. And now, there's an exit.

An exit.

A way out.

This could be my only chance.

Before I had any time to rip the IV from my arm, detach myself from the machines, and jump off the bed, four figures, each varying majorly in size and shape of one another, appeared in the doorway. After a moment of realization of their presence, the group of individuals entered, migrating cautiously yet briskly towards the bed I was in, the wall falling from the ceiling behind them.

The group of four stood next to each other, their shoulders lined up, their chests raised proudly. My glassy eyes glazed over the individuals, a passing moment giving my vision enough time to soak up their appearances and concoct opinions of their nature, simply based on attire and physical features.

There were three males in the group, followed by one female, who stood farthest to the right, being closest to the shaded window. The first person who crossed my vision was a young man, most likely no older than 15, who stood at the left end of the group. He wasn't exactly tall, nor short, though beneath his skinny frame, he appeared to be well-built with thick, yet slender, muscles on his limbs, providing fast abilities in demanding activities. The guy was decked with an outfit of red, yellow and green, complete with thick metal boots, a yellow utility belt, and a fluttering cape that billowed behind him in a heroic manner. Wherever the costume didn't cover, it revealed a pale shade of skin while his hair was a coal-black hue, unnaturally spiked for a grimacing appearance. However, there was one peculiar thing to his outfit; the black mask, framed in white, that shielded his eyes.

Beside him, towering above all the adolescents, was a young man of a darker skin tone. I had a double-take when my eyes caught the winking glint of light on the shiny armor that coated more than half his flesh. Jagged patches of metal pieces, tinted a blue pigment, glowing ever so softly, had swallowed the young man. It was obvious that the only remaining human part of his body was part of his face. While his right side seemed natural and untouched, the other was masked by a metallic sheet, swallowing his left eye, and replacing it with a simmering orb that projected a red laser upon the object he viewed. Every limb of his was mechanical, leaving them larger than normal and obviously stronger. Hands with metal digits; boots as feet, which could never be removed; I was debating if he was a robot or not, but I didn't dare to address the young man. With his unnatural eye staring at me while his face held a scowl of disapproval, I felt myself backing away a little bit more.

Nearly engulfed by the shadow of the robot-man, a boy, who couldn't have been 15, strayed behind a protective mechanical arm to prevent him from approaching me, but his eyes were locked on mine. I couldn't help but return the gaze. Luminous emerald orbs glittered as he searched my face, his mouth hesitating on whether he should speak. The arm pushed him further back, but despite the obvious command, the boy stepped forward, a shaft of light catching his face before he was pulled back again. My eyes lit up in surprise.

The boy's skin was green. Green! And not only that; his facial features were utterly unrealistic and incomparable to a human's. His large, pointed ears; his owl-like eyes; his sharp nose and abnormal, jutted jawline, a sharp fang protruding from his bottom lip; everything about him wasn't a typical oroentation of our species. And yet, there he was. Pea-green skin and a shaggy coiffure with each follicle painted the same hue as a pine tree in the prime of winter; he was simply mesmerizing. And what was more confusing, the boy seemed more shocked than I was upon seeing each other.

My eyes only drifted away when I saw quick movement flash beside the boy masked in a shadow. It had been the girl. Slightly taller, her skin also containing an abnormal pigment, happening to be a bright orange, the individual seemed gravely worried as she looked me over, silently begging for a reply.

I gave her none.

She wore a purple outfit with matching purple boots that climbed to her thighs, complimenting her lime eyes and unnatural light-green scleras, while highlighting her slender, feminine figure perfectly. She also had long amber hair, slightly darker than her skin color, yet it was just as vibrant, cascading down her back in a glossy sheet of hair while short bangs framed the tips of her batting eyelashes. It was then I happened to glance down and notice that neither of her feet were touching the floor.

Wait...

But yes! She was! The young girl was hovering in the air! She nonchalantly bobbed about a foot off the floor as she inspected me, kind and twinkling pupils growing frightened every second that passed without a word to be spoken.

I still didn't dare to speak.

These people! I thought madly. It was them. It was them! They put me here!

The group immediately took note as I panicked quietly, growing uncomfortable in their presence. After exchanging nervous glances, the boy wearing the mask stepped up cautiously.

"Raven?"

I started breathing more vigorously, my limbs quaking from fright.

"Wha- what?" I asked, making no attempt to engage in an conversation.

The boy took a step closer while I scooted backward, though I hardly moved at all.

"Raven, it's me..."

"Get away," I rasped, my breathing pattern increasing. "Don't touch me..."

The boy stepped back, peering over to the other end of the group. The girl simply nodded then glided over to the gurney.

"Friend Raven?" she asked, cocking her head curiously. "Please do not be frightened of our nature."

"W- what do you mean?"

"Raven? I ask you to not be alarmed of us. We only want to help."

"Help me?" I whispered, my mind distant from the group of adolescents.

"Yes?" the girl inquired. "Friend Raven?"

I could only look up at them meekly, choking back a rough swallow.

"Who- who are you?" I asked, my eyes darting from person-to-person worriedly.

The boy on the farthest left stepped forward, extending a green gloved hand. I looked at it with fear, shriveling up beneath his masked, woeful eyes, brimming with concern. The hand withdrew sheepishly.

"Raven, it's us. The Teen Titans."

He gestured to the teenagers who stood before me.

"Your friends. Remember?"

Friends. Friends? Since when...?

"I- I don't..." I started, my head dropping sheepishly. "...I don't know you..."

"You do not remember us?" the girl asked, drifting closer.

She placed both her hands to her heart, appearing disappointed to my confession.

Remember? I haven't met these people before!

"No. I don't know who you are," I responded firmly.

As everyone around the room gazed at each other, sharing worried reactions, my eyes caught the needle still jammed into my arm. I flinched as a pump coursed the plastic tubes, sending a current of liquid into my body, and I immediately panicked, a hand grappling the needle in an effort to wrench it from my skin. However, the hand of the hovering girl stopped me, my hand quavering as gentle fingers pried my digits from the hollow, rod-like instrument.

"What's that for?" I demanded, my heart picking up speed. "Why is it doing that?"

"I am truly apologetic, friend Raven," the girl replied, folding her hands in shyness and holding it to her pursed lips. "We only proceeded to insert the equipment since your health had been deteriorating. It would only be most beneficial; nothing else."

Deteriorating? Does that mean something is wrong with me?

I ducked my head, my voice falling to a trembling whisper.

"Then, why would I need it?" I asked timidly, my bottom lip quivering. "Is- is there something wrong with me?"

At first, no one dared to answer. The girl retreated back, looking away sadly. The masked boy sighed while the young man with metal limbs grimaced, displeased of the situation. The green-skinned boy couldn't have appeared more appalled, his pointed ears drooping somberly while his glassy eyes watched me in disbelief, almost growing in size. I quickly looked away, my cheeks blushing as I felt him watch me. The boy gazed away too, feeling ashamed. After what seemed like an eternity, I spoke up again, prompting an answer.

"What's wrong with me?"

The group instinctively turned to the mechanical man.

"Cyborg?" the masked boy questioned, growing worried himself.

"I'm telling you, man," he told him tiredly. "I don't know."

"But the drugs you gave her..." the girl spoke up, nervously glancing at me.

"They were to calm her down," he explained, also gazing at me.

I hugged my legs tighter to my chest, cowering away from the strange individuals.

"I gave her a smaller dosage than what was instructed, but I didn't think it would affect her greatly..." he continued.

"It's not the medicine's fault," the young boy spoke up, emerging from the robot's shadow.

"No, Beast Boy," the girl replied respectively. "But our friend, Raven, has not been acting herself ever since the dosage, therefore it must be the cause."

"Do you dudes remember what she was doing before the medication?!" he emphasized, his hands in the air. "That wasn't her either!"

"Why, yes, Beast Boy, I do recall," the girl answered, sighing in recount of a memory that I didn't share. "Perhaps you recovered anything from the incident?" she asked hopefully to the masked boy, dressed in a traffic-colored suit.

He replied with a somber shake of his head.

"For once, I'm actually stuck. My lead on his whereabouts had grown cold," the boy said bitterly.

"This isn't like Slade," the robot agreed. "What he did, I'm not positive on, but he had somehow brain-washed her into doing what he wanted."

"This isn't like the time he kidnapped me," the masked boy continued. "I was forced to follow Slade's orders. I had no choice. He would have killed you all if I hadn't followed his orders. Do you guys remember that? But Raven...it seemed like, she wanted to. Slade had been able to convince her to do those horrible things without force..."

"But how, Robin?" the girl inquired, raising a hand to her gaping mouth.

"I'm not sure, Starfire," the masked boy, who I presumed was named Robin, answered. "I'm not sure. But, whatever he did, he managed to manipulate Raven in a way unlike what he did to me. And, however he did it, it appears that it had something to do with her memory..."

Four pairs of eyes suddenly turned to me.

"It's like...she doesn't remember us anymore..."

There was a short pause as everyone remained motionless, their eyes plastered to mine. As my vision skipped from person-to-person, I almost didn't notice the green figure that flickered in the shadow of the robot, who was often referred to as Cyborg.

"No," protested a firm voice. "No. That can't be true!"

It was the green-skinned boy.

"Beast Boy," the orange-haired female coaxed, slowly drifting towards him with a pair of reassuring hands raised in defense.

"That can't be true!" he screeched, his voice almost squeaking due to his early phase of puberty and obvious stress of the situation.

"Man, calm down," Cyborg warned him, his tone harsh and dark as a threat to keep quiet.

The boy refused to obey.

"But Raven!" Beast Boy pleaded, approaching me as an attempt to explain his case.

Before his extended hand could reach for me, an iron grip grabbed the back of his purple-and-black suit, yanking the boy back.

"I told you to stay out of it," Cyborg whispered harshly into his ear. "Now cut it out."

But Beast Boy refused to listen

"You gotta remember us!" he shrieked, almost begging for an inhuman miracle to occur. "You gotta!"

"I- I-" I stammered, confused of the boy's intentions. "Wha-?"

"Lay off," Cyborg hissed at the frantic boy.

"You can't let this happen!" Beast Boy exclaimed, turning to the teenagers that swarmed him. "We gotta help her!"

"And we are," Starfire confirmed quietly. "But we must not be quick; we must provide time and care for the return of her missing memory. This is not an endeavor that shall be solved within minutes."

The boy's emerald eyes faced me, framed by a glassy veil of tears, effulgent with astonishment. He appeared as if he couldn't believe it, as if my very presence was a great surprise. He grew limp in Cyborg's grasp, and upon realizing this, the young mechanical man released Beast Boy carefully.

"But..." he whimpered, his voice scratchy and sullen. "But it can't be true. She can't forget us. That's...not possible."

"It's alright, Beast Boy," Robin replied apologetically, who seemed just as depressed as he was.

"But- but it's not alright..."

Starfire approached the green adolescent, placing a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her, his eyes bubbling with more tears before he peered at me, his shoulders sagging in defeat.

He seems so...disappointed, I noted to myself.

Although I didn't know the reason, I knew that I was involved, one way or another.

And I didn't want to know how.

"I'm not letting you in next time," Cyborg whispered to the boy who had grown quiet. "C'mon. We're leaving."

"Gimme a second," Beast Boy answered, turning away so his friend couldn't see his tears.

Cyborg seemed upset, but he eventually left, quickly marching out of the room, the door sliding away as he approached and then retreating back again once he had exited. Starfire followed his heels, hunched over as she flew after him, which meant that Robin and Beast Boy were the last remaining people of the group. While the green individual kept his head bowed, Robin was looking directly into my eyes, or so I assumed, considering the mask that he refused to remove. He waited patiently until he spoke up.

"It's going to be alright," he repeated, more to Beast Boy rather than me, although his eyes were trained on mine. "We are not going to let you deal with this on your own."

He paused a moment, observing my stifling reaction of dismay.

"We know that what happened back there...that wasn't you. We trust you so much, Raven, and we know that you would never do anything of the sort based on your intentions. We forgive you, 100%, and I hope that you aren't putting yourself down for allowing that to happen when you weren't in control of yourself. There is absolutely no need to feel any guilt. Everything is fine now; Slade can't get to you. And he won't ever touch you. Not ever again. If we even see that man again, everyone will fight for what he had done. We're here for you, you know that, and we want to help in any way we can, even if it will take months if we must. We're going to help you until your memory has been recovered, until your health has been restored, and until we're positive that you're okay; we swear on it. You're our friend, Raven. Our friend. Friends wouldn't let something like this to be dealt with on your own. That's why we're here for you; everyone wants to help. It's very important to us that you get better, not just important to you. We miss you, Raven. We really do. We want you back with us, and I'm sure you wish to be back with us too..."

My tongue didn't dare to flick a word. I watched him, in a loss of emotion, as the boy named Robin spoke gingerly in an attempt to give comfort through his delicately-formed speech. His gentle voice, his coaxing words, the genuine concern and worry that chirped from his mouth; all of those traits were filtered through his speech. Just how he spoke, how he was patient with what he wanted to say and how he seemed gravely apologetic with me, grieving about my status, made my throat swell shut. My heart ached with his, my hands resisting the urge to rub the tears away from my prickling, itchy eyes. What Robin was speaking of, the occurrence that had stolen my memory, seemed to depress him. He was enraged, yet sullen, determined to help. He was passionate as he addressed me, begging for the compassion and agreement to allow their aid. Only, I had no idea with whom I was dealing, let alone whatever happened to me in the first place.

A part of me believed him, figuring that, based upon his knowledge and argument about who he was to me in the past that had disappeared, that Robin was telling the truth, that his honesty and hospitable gestures would help me while in this dazed condition. However, another part of me had an opposite opinion; a bogus story told by a false individual of a made-up personnel.

Who said he was telling the truth? I certainly didn't remember him, which is slightly peculiar due to the fact that I couldn't recall anything at all. Four people, all whom I have never met, explaining how I was, and still is, their treasured friend.

But how? How could that be?

My thoughts fluttered around in my head, deducing crazy scenarios and eliminating unrealistic ideas whether my "friend" had honesty that deserved belief.

He could be telling the truth...

If he was a friend, wouldn't I remember him?

He DID mention that my memory had been wiped clean...

Very strange, huh? I should believe a boy who claims such a thing? How do I know he isn't just lying to manipulate me even more?

But, there's something about him...

The occurrence that Robin speaks of; exactly what was it that had somehow cleansed my memory?

What could have happened? I thought hysterically. What happened that was so terrifying yet I couldn't remember? If it was so horrific, why couldn't I remember it?

It was obviously more than just a bump on the head...

Seeing my mental debate, Robin offered a weak, yet pained, smile before he left briskly, his head low to hide whatever feelings was displayed upon his facial features. My eyes immediately shifted to the young male of green flesh.

He looked up at me with somber eyes before he looked away, huffing an irritated sigh. I bit my tongue to prevent a questioning remark, but knowing that my memory had been fragmented, it was probably best not to argue, for my answer might not have been the decision I had made in the past, a decision that I would most likely not remember deciding. That's when Beast Boy spoke up.

"So, you really don't remember?" he inauired, folding his arms across his chest.

I shook my head viciously, my bottom lip trembling.

Have I ever lost my memory in the past before?

Of course I wouldn't know!

In reply, Beast Boy gazed off, trudging deep in thought. After waiting a patient moment, he suddenly turned around, what I had expected to be a sudden dash for the exit, until I watched him disappear into the closet. A brief minute passed just before he emerged again, walking backwards. With his back to me, I studied him as the boy withdrew what appeared to be an adjustable, one-leg table on wheels from the storage closet, dragging it across the floor and up to my gurney. As he placed it, modifying its height to suit my needs, my eyes widened at the display upon the wooden surface.

A white-stained glass plate where two slices of whole-wheat bread were perched, toasted slightly so it was covered in a layer of golden crust, and topped with a small scoop of melted butter that seeped and softened the bread. A glassy, black kettle that rested on a hot pad, a mug tinted the same jet-black hue sitting beside it, filled to the brim with a murky, brown fluid that breathed a heavily, vanilla aroma that was vaguely familiar as well. At the top right corner of the table, a black vase with a bubbled bottom held a single red rose, a folded, white napkin edged with violet highlights placed next to it. A silver fork, knife with a soft blade, and spoon, each utensil crafted elegantly, laid upon the napkin, polished and waiting for usage; to be used by me.

All of it was for me.

Beast Boy stepped back sheepishly, his elf-like ears drooping from embarrassment as his cheeks suddenly flamed. His shoulders slouched, his hands balled up and jammed into pockets on his suit.

"It's not much," he admitted, gesturing to the table with a simple nod. "But, I- we figured that you might..."

"Yeah," I said, gazing down at the amiable supper. "Yeah, I mean, I get it. Thank you..."

Beast Boy nodded again, joining me as we both examined the prepared meal.

"It's your favorite, you know," he added slowly.

My eyes lingered for a second on the food before I lifted them to the boy's green face. A flash of pity streaked across his eyes before he blinked it away, replacing the emotion with a delicate film of salted water.

"Huh?" I persisted, suddenly anxious about what he had to say about the past self I had apparently forgotten.

"Toast," he said. "Herbal tea too. I didn't exactly know how to make it but...I knew it was your favorite. Especially French Vanilla. I've seen you drink it enough..."

My eyes fell once again, scanning the table's contents.

The boy knows so much of me, I thought. How can he remember my supposed favorite food when I couldn't even remember what my name was?

Speaking of which...

"Hey," I called to the boy, attracting his attention. "Um, what did you call me before?"

"Er, Raven," he replied in monotone, staring at me with anxiety as if my mind would suddenly click in remembrance.

But I never did.

"Raven," I repeated, my lips absorbing the syllables. "So my name is Raven..."

"Yeah, and I'm..."

"Beast Boy?" I interjected, questioning if my answer was correct.

The green-skinned boy was taken back, slightly aghast.

"Wait, do you...?"

"They mentioned your name," I insisted hurriedly, waving away his excitement.

I could practically feel Beast Boy's heart sink.

Feel.

What a strange expression.

"Oh."

Beast Boy remained standing there for a bit, wavering slightly in sorrow, before he turned and punched a few numbers into the keypad then backed away from the door. He took a step forward then waited, the discreet passageway opening immediately. He stood in the doorway for a moment before he let out a sigh, his head bobbing backwards to stare at the ceiling absent-mindedly, his hands resting on his hips.

"So," he asked nonchalantly, almost stalling the mere idea of starting a conversation. "You swear you don't remember anything?"

My mouth hung open, trying to spill words.

"I- I don't. I don't know-"

"But, you swear you can't?"

"You don't believe me?" I challenged. "In return, I find it hard to believe you guys..."

"No," Beast Boy interrupted, growing annoyed. "I mean, you're serious when you said you don't remember me- us, right? You aren't, like, lying...are you?"

"Why would I lie to you?" I snorted, slightly offended by the comment.

Beast Boy held back a sniff, running a hand across his face to wipe away the stinging pain he felt condensing upon his emerald eyes.

"It- it wouldn't have been the first time..."

Without another word, he turned around and walked away, exiting the room with the paneled, mechanical door sliding behind him silently, clicking shut.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Hopefully I can post again soon enough! :)