Home. That's where he wanted to go. After spending far too long in the Red, he needed a break. He needed a chance to remember that he had somewhere to go back to. But 'home' was complicated. They'd all split up and gone off to do their own things. It was fine. He didn't have to know the exact location of where a person was to get to them. Metaphors like 'home' worked just as well. The problem was where home was.

Was he going to see Dick? (And probably Kory. Maybe not the best idea.)

Rachel? (And what if she had a roommate?)

Jason? (And get his ass handed to him.)

Tim? (And Bernard. Also not the best idea.)

It wasn't that he actively thought about any of the places he could go or actively rejected them. It wasn't that he realized that there really was only ever one answer. He just thought home. But the problem with that command was that he'd had one very bad - or at least weird - experience that he associated it with.

And so the transition was a little...bumpier than he'd come to expect. So bumpy that he didn't end up standing on the floor of the room he ended up in. No, he wound up in the middle of the air somewhere. In the dark. He landed almost immediately and, instead of hitting the hard floor he expected, he hit something nearly as hard. A body. It only then it occurred to him to wonder what the Red had considered 'home'.