II:Homesickness
Robin sat in the living room, staring out the window at the way his least favorite thing drizzled down from the sky.
That was the worst part of living on the west coast. The drizzly, foggy, smoggy days outnumbered the clear. Sure, it got hot. Hot and oppressively muggy. And full of bugs.
He missed Gotham. Gotham's nights were dark, and briskly cool, even in summer. Gotham's skyline, you could navigate with jump lines. You didn't need to ride up buildings and walls on a motorcycle, fun as that was.
In Gotham, all he needed was his superhero name.
Robin.
It made criminals stop in their tracks, the tears of terror that wended down their faces gray and hollow as the rain that fell on Jump City.
In Gotham, he had power. His skills, in Gotham, actually went to use.
There were times, like right now, that he felt useless in Jump City. It wasn't that it wasn't a nice enough place. Jump City was nice enough. In fact, it was too nice. Aside from Slade, the worst Jump City really had was Killer Moth (who wasn't that much of a challenge, anyway). The police could handle Killer Moth. The police could handle just about every criminal in this tiny city.
Gotham had too many criminals for the police. Gotham had criminals who actually posed a threat. Gotham had challenges.
There were times, reckless times, hopeless times, times where he missed his second father so damn much, that he considered leaving the Titans in much the same way Cyborg had.