There comes a day when the Teen Titans are no more. Jericho does not blink a single green eye, just shrugs and grabs his guitar. It is so easy to play, him having memorized the uses and workings of the instrument years before. Now, he plays a song, though most would hardly call it one. It changes, with no real rhythm or tone.
No meaning.
He plays until the moon comes out and shines onto the mountain. Whatever it does not touch goes dark, and Jericho goes under one to sleep.
When he wakes up, no new messages have been given. This was no dream, and there was no decision to reawaken the Teen Titans. While he slept, the other Titans moved on.
Jericho watches the sun rise. As it does, the light compliments his body. He can hardly be called a teen any longer; he now has a goatee and a long sideburns, not to mention large, hard muscles that his thinner, younger self had only dreamed of having.
He grabs his guitar and leaves. The mountain will still be here if he comes back, but until then he has other things to do.
Titan or not, there are still problems in the world. If he does not step forward and try to fix them, then what guarantee does he have that others would do the same?
A lot of places could use a hero like him, no matter what he chooses to one day call himself. Jericho, like the Titans, is gone.
He's already thought of some possible ideas. Jericho slides off him like a coat, and a new identity is just waiting to go on.