Grim - no, Mike - walked out of a rift.  He knew it was a rift because the colors changed, from the muted yellow hue to clearer brighter colors.  He was in the Isles, in Nerva, in the northern part of Thorn Island, and was standing face to face with a demon and a couple of thornites.

He muttered the spell for flight, moments before a fireball came at him.  He shot up like a bullet, leaving his stomach behind to be incinerated.  He got high enough to see all of Thorn Island at once, before stopping to take a few halting breaths.

"Ben," he said.  "Need to find Ben."

He dove toward the Black Helicopters, and, after giving the Bane guard a severe talking-to, was able to get onboard with a few other people.  He noticed he was in civvies.  The three others were in masks and were looking him over carefully.  Mike looked at the two males, checking them out, but, for once, not asking that they sleep with him. 

I don't want that anymore.  I don't need to do that.  I want Ben.

The Helicopter was not the most comfortable ride, as he thought the pilot intentionally wanted to make his passengers puke.  Mike realized that he was starving.  After going through that emotional wringer, and however long he had been in the spirit world, all he wanted was to have a nice, thick burger and fries, and to lay down with Bennett and sleep.  Or screw.  As long as--

The helicopter bumped wildly.  His elbow slammed into the other villain's breast, and bounced off - well, those are fake.  That villain gave him the dirtiest look, and the chopper listed hard to port, threatening to throw the two male passengers into them.

"I'm gonna kill that motherfuckin' pilot," one of them muttered.

"I'll hold him down for you," said the other.

Mike apologized for hitting the woman, but she still did not look  happy with him.  After a few more lurches of the chopper, they touched down somewhere.  "St. Martial" said a voice on the speaker, and Mike undid his seatbelt, as did one of the other men.  The other man shoved open the door, and climbed out, while three others shoved their way in.

"Hey," Mike said to one of the shovers, "this isn't the New York subway system."

A woman socked him without warning.  He stumbled back, while her two other compatriots laughed at him.  He stood there, silently angry for a moment.  He felt his jaw with his left hand, stretched out his right.  "Duolo," he snarled, and the woman grunted, her hand going to her jaw.  "Don't fuck with a mage, bitch," Mike snarled, and walked away from her. 

"Fuck you!" was her last words as the door slammed behind them.  Mike walked a little ways down the airport then launched himself into the air.  He touched down outside of the walk-up to their apartment.

He magically opened the door, and stepped inside calling Ben's name.  There was no answer.  He looked on the fridge - there was no note, there, either.  He's probably tearing apart someplace looking for me.  He touched the engagement ring, then nodded. 

He went to their bedroom, and found some of his dirty laundry.  He brought a shirt with him back downstairs, and made a small circle.  Doing this was easy, something he had done in his first year.  He would try and find where he was, or, if he was close enough, summon him to this place the old fashioned way.  Holding the shirt, he began the chant...

The End

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