He couldn't remember the last time he had been this hungry.

The young man slowly opened his eyes, the dim light of the dull morning enough to sting his retinas as he half considered rolling over and returning too oblivion granting sleep. The sharp stab of pain than ran throughout his gut, the twisting of his internal organs as his acidic stomach turned its digestive wrath upon itself, convinced him otherwise. With a loud groan, one matched, if not exceeded by, the angered rumblings of his gut, the young man reluctantly rose himself up to sitting.

He ran a hand across dreary eyes, trying to physically wipe the sleep away, trying to remember what time it had been when he had finally decided to put head to pillow. How long had he been asleep, hours, minutes? It felt like seconds. The young man felt as though he hadn't slept in a week. The sudden, loud and stomach twisting grumble of his gut reminded him that it felt as though he hadn't eaten in weeks either.

In years.

As tired as he felt at the moment, it was hunger that demanded his attention now. He had just slept after all, however fruitless such a task had proven to be, it was now time to eat. Something, anything, he just wanted to eat. He suddenly belched, the loud and obtrusive sound echoing throughout the small room, a foul aftertaste filling his mouth. The young man found himself forced to re-evaluate his last thought. He needed to eat, but defiantly not whatever it was he had eaten last night.

The young man shivered and flinched as the soles of his bare feet touched down upon the cold, wooden floor. With a grimace he forced himself to stand, braving the discomfort in his mission to diminish another. He walked as quickly as he could, crossing into the small bathroom of his impossibly small apartment, dropping a towel upon the equally cold tile floor on which to stand upon. Better, much better.

The young man leaned forward, his face close to the sink as he flicked on the cold water, letting the freezing water fill the palm of his hand before he splashed his face. A sharp shiver ran throughout his entire body, the harsh stimuli lighting up his every nerve, blasting back the sense diminishing sleep that still clung to him in the waking hours. He splashed his face again, letting awareness take hold, letting the cold, hard reality of the world settle around him.

The young man grimaced as his gut rumbled once more, this time louder than before, some foul beast trying desperately to escape his innards. He ran a hand through his foppish brown hair as he tried to concentrate, to think, to remember what food he had about the place to placate the angry beast within him. Amazingly he could think of nothing, not a single thing. It didn't matter, he would find something, there would have to be something. How else did he survive?

Running a hand through his hair once more, sweeping a long fringe away from his eyes, the young man looked upon his face in the mirror opposite. He stared and he waited, his dark and hazel eyes staring into his reflections own, waiting for a moment, an epiphany, perhaps even an answer to the meaning of all life. A realisation.

"BLOODY HELL!!!" Jonothon Starsmore suddenly recoiled from the mirror and stumbled backwards as if his own reflection had struck him. A moment of horrifying clarity struck him like a thunderbolt as he stared upon his own reflection, there, in the mirror before him, in the reflection that did not lie, was his face. His face, the entirety of his face, and just below it was his chest.

Panic gripped him as his scattered mind tried desperately to understand, a set of trembling fingers running down his smooth and complete chin. His face, for the first time in more years than he could remember, he could see his own face. The devils furnace that had corrupted his image had been cast aside. The gaping hole, the inferno fire, gone, his body reformed.

He didn't know how and he didn't know why but for a single, unbelievable moment he really didn't care. His face, somehow, someway, some...thing, had returned to his face to him, he was whole, he was complete. For the first time in years he was complete.

By God he was hungry.

Today.

"Bloody Hell Gel!!" Jonothon Starsmore cursed as he tried his best to shield to his eyes and yet he knew it was already far too late. The sudden and unexpected flash of light had done its worst, plunging his world into a temporary shade of white. Jubilee had struck again, only now she didn't need her Pyrokinetic Displays to dazzle friend and foe alike, oh no, now she had an entirely new weapon in her arsenal.

"Oops..." young Jubilation Lee apologised with a distinct lack of sincerity "...my bad". She betrayed herself with her poorly concealed chuckling, watching over the back of her seat as Jonothon Starsmore tried, and largely failed, to adjust to being blindsided by the dazzling flash of her newly minted Digital Camera.

It all fairness it had been an accident. The youngest, yet most experienced member of the X-Family in the Jeep honestly hadn't known the flash was engaged before inadvertently blinding her friend. Still, it was funny, and it had to worth it if it snapped the moody Englishman out of his never ending brooding for once.

"Thanks Luv..." Jonothon grumbled as he leaned forward in the back of the Jeep, the leather seating creaking under his shifted weight, as he rubbed his eyes. He could see spots now, a semblance of colour, his eyes slowly adjusting to the real world. He half suspected that his retinas would never be the same again "...I’m bloody blind".

"Oh please..." Jubilation Lee rolled her eyes as young Mr. Starsmore insisted on complaining. With a quick movement she entirely ignored the rules of health and safety while on the road and got up onto her knees on her own seat. After quickly removing the well worn cowboy hat she wore upon her brow she proceeded to lean over and swiftly whap Jonothon across the head "...stop being a baby".

Satisfied that the Englishmen had been cowed, either not hearing or choosing to ignore his grumblings in the back seat, Jubilation sat herself back down. The open road before them continued to be entirely un-entertaining, nothing but dust and rock for as far as the eye could see. Somehow, being on the run wasn't anywhere near as entertaining as she had been lead to believe.

Most of the time anyway. Granted, there had been that one dust up with the Post Human Lame Force, but aside from a few moments of pulse pounding adrenaline, their days since then had been largely, well...dull. She should have asked Wolverine how it is he could just jump from one fire fight into another.

Taking her eyes away from the desperately boring road ahead of them, convinced that a Sentinel was in fact not going to be dropping out of the sky any time soon, she returned her attention to the back seat.

On the right was Jonothon, his sight apparently already cleared as the Englishmen had returned to looking out his window. She still wasn't used to it, looking at him, all of him; somehow he seemed different to what she had imagined. But it was defiantly him, his eyes were the same. They were the windows to the soul someone once said, she couldn't remember who.

On the left was Angelo, another one of her friends and largely the reason they were all here. Espinosa had gotten himself into trouble, as usual, and again, as usual, Jubilation, being that she was totally awesome, had decided to help him out. Jonothon and Everett were allowed to tag along for moral support.

He was currently asleep, which in itself was not especially interesting if it wasn't for the munchkin snuggled up under his arm. Molly, the girl who had inadvertently caused their current problems and a child that was much more tolerable while unconscious.

Angelo had taken the girl under his wing when the little runaway had run straight into trouble, trapping himself in a murder rap in the process. She wasn't entirely sure which one had adopted the other, but little Molly was adamant about staying close too Angelo, and by adamant she of course meant vocal. Very vocal. The girl liked to talk.

"Do you think we can keep her that way?" Jubilation asked rhetorically as she fiddled with her Digital Camera, ensuring the flash was off. With a quick snap she captured the moment.

"Didn't work with you Luv," Jonothon commented dryly from the back seat as he gazed off towards some unknown place on the horizon that hurtled past. Jubilee stuck out her tongue in response, Jonothon either didn't see or didn't care, his mind drifting off somewhere else entirely.

Jubilation could half guess where. These last few days, this is the first time the four of them had been together since...since then. Some of them remembered it better than others, or worse as the case may be. Some of them found it harder to let go.

Before the moody Englishmen could protest, Jubilation took another snap of the oldest member of this little family, of course being sure not to blind him for a second time. The gang should never have split up, it sucked being alone.

"I can't be that interesting," Everett smiled and tried his best to remain fully focused on the road ahead of them as Jubilee turned her camera towards him. The young man was behind the wheel, as voted for by the others, and while he wasn't shy he was hardly one who sought the limelight.

"You're not..." Jubilation half lied. Everett was without a doubt one of the most kind hearted, decent human beings she had ever met, not only that, but he was one who tolerated her own nature without question. He was cute as a button too boot "I’m just chronicling your final hours as the designated driver."

"You lost the vote Jubes," Everett turned his attention a little away from the road and moved it towards the girl riding shotgun. He did so just in time for the girl, or young woman as was quickly becoming now, too claim her highly prized snapshot.

"Today perhaps..." Jubilation shrugged, doing her best to seem nonchalant. They all knew that she hadn't been too impressed about being out voted on who got to drive their newly acquired Jeep, especially since the said newly acquired Jeep had only come about due to one of her 'contacts'.

She had decided to keep his or her identity secret, apparently enjoying the sheer coyness of having mystery connections. But when one observed the magically appearing cowboy hat that perched upon her head it wasn't difficult to figure out who it had been.

Still, by all accounts, it was her Jeep, one they had needed pretty badly, even if it did smell like a giant cigar, and no-one was in any doubt that she fully planned on claiming the wheel for her own. Whether or not any of them would survive that day was up for debate.

"...tomorrow is another story."

For the time being, with the empty road ahead of them still no more interesting than it had been five minutes before, Jubilation contented herself with her Camera. With a few button presses she began too scroll through the dozens of images she had already stored on the memory card, smiling to herself.

She should have started doing this years ago, capturing the moments in her life, her friends, she should have started doing it back in the school. They didn't have enough pictures from back then; there were some people she would never be able to capture again.

Memories alone just weren't good enough.

*If you’re that desperate Gel...* Jubilation almost jumped as Jonathon’s hollow, telepathic tone echoed throughout her mind. She had almost forgotten what he sounded like, to hear him speak directly into her thoughts.

With every fibre in her being she resisted the urge to turn and look at him. Telepathy meant privacy, privacy meant secrets and secrets meant subtlety. Not something she was especially good at.

*...I'll make you a deal...*

"Another refill?" the waitress asked with an easy smile, a piping hot jug of black coffee in her hands. She quickly proceeded to pour out another mug full as the young man she was serving nodded enthusiastically, now up to seven refills and counting. It was a long time she had seen anyone with such an appetite in these parts, the table laden down with food suggested that he was only getting started.

"Thanks Luv," Jonothon commented as he used a slice of toast too wipe his fourth plate clean. Bacon, beans, mushrooms, sausages along with both fried and scrambled eggs, a Fry Up of kings and probably enough fat to kill ten men but by God it tasted good.

"And bacon, more bacon," he managed to add before the middle aged waitress could wonder off too far. There were, of course, a few other patrons in this quite, roadside diner that wanted serving, but hell, he was eating more than them anyway. He was eating more than the people he was sitting with, all four of them having finished long ago.

"Coming right up." the waitress smiled again before heading off towards the kitchen.

For once Molly sat quietly, perched as she was between Angelo and Everett, her mouth hanging open, her eyes wide and disbelieving, as the young man she had come to know as Jono cleared one plate after another. She couldn't help but absently think that her parents would just love him, remembering all the times, all the stubborn fights she had put up about 'clearing her plate'.

"There are starving children in Africa," they would tell her, clearly they hadn't known there were apparently starving children in England too. Now Molly knew better.

She had been counting his plates as he wiped each one clean, one after the other, four now in all...four whole plates of food. Just where was he putting it all? She wondered. If I poke him in the belly will he explode? Hmm, she just might have to try that one.

Curiosity was a powerful thing.

"He's going to make himself sick" Molly whispered to Angelo more loudly than most people spoke, her wide eyes not living Jono's hungry form.

"Quiet you," Jubilation warned, the two girls at the table sharing a glare. Of all of them Jubilee seemed to be the only one not surprised by Jonathon’s apparently bottomless appetite, if anything, she was encouraging it.

"Molly has a point Jono," Everett spoke up knowing that the youngest in their group had only said what they all should be thinking. It was no secret that Jonothon enjoyed his food, it was no surprise. After three years of not being able to eat then everything must taste like a delicacy. Too a man that was thirsty enough water was as sweet as honey. But this...Everett had to believe that this was just outright unhealthy "You can't still be hungry."

Jonothon paused for a moment, leaning back in his seat and swallowing the last morsel of food from his currently clean plate. His gut was fit too burst, straining the belt around his waist, it felt good, it felt really good.

"No..." he admitted with a shrug "...not really".

"Then why..."

"Jeeze Guys!!" Jubilation suddenly stood up straight, hands on hips and glared at those assembled on the opposite side of the table "Let the man eat!!" Everett stopped short, as did Angelo, as did half the patrons in the Roadside Diner, Molly continued to stare at the bottomless pit that was Jonothon Starsmore.

Satisfied that she had made her point, despite the lack of a constructive argument, she sat back down next to the equally startled Mr. Starsmore. "More Cake?" she offered him the plate, her wrath apparently placated. Mr. Starsmore wasn't entirely sure it was wise to refuse.

"Thanks Luv."

If there was one thing Utah had in abundance it was nothing. A vast, unending desert of nothing. And still, in the absence of anything, the view encompassed everything.

Jonothon Starsmore could see for miles, perched as he was upon a rock as the sun slowly fell from the sky, threatening to set at any given moment. Shadows began to stretch as far as the eye could see, vast and dark fingers of midnight black bleeding across the rust coloured mountains. The desert was an eerie calm, the whistling of the wind passing through the mountains, chilling him to the bone.

It was a bottleneck of peace, a sanctuary of calm within an almost entirely dead world. The absence of life, a world without man, a little corner of it at least.

It was a good place to be alone, in a manner of speaking at least. It seemed these days he was never alone. He could not say, he could not decide if the whispers he heard were a gift or curse, a sign of hope or an omen of madness.

This he didn't need.

Jonothon pulled his coat more tightly around his shoulders as the already cold day grew colder still. He closed his eyes, his head hanging low, doing his best to ignore the whistling of the wind, the whispers in his heart. Her whisper, her heart, her touch, the girl he loved who wouldn't leave his head...

"Hey Jono!" Jubilation Lee cried out and Jonothon Starsmore opened his eyes and sat up straight like a shot. She came up behind him, slapping the taller Englishman on the shoulder, a smile on her face, a hand behind her back. "Motel is thataway you know? Warmth, shelter, beds, all that good stuff".

Jonothon looked over his shoulder even if he knew it was there, the Roadside Motel the small party of five had booked themselves into not even an hour before. It wasn't much, it was a rat hole really, but when it came to a small band of Mutant Fugitives, beggars couldn't be choosers.

"I'm sure I’ll find it Gel," Jonothon shrugged, not making any obvious efforts to remove himself from the boulder he was sat upon. He would join the others soon, just not yet, not until after he had stopped another’s voice rattling around in his head. Not until he was happy he wasn't just losing his mind.

"Here..." apparently excepting that Jonothon wasn't going to be moving anytime soon, Jubilation instead sat herself up on the boulder next to him. She never did seem too grasp the concept of I want to be alone.

"...Icing on the cake." Jubilation suddenly revealed what she was hiding behind her back, dropping a six pack of cold beer in his lap. The young man had made a deal with the girl; a hearty meal in exchange for something else...apparently the former X-Man had decided to take things a little further.

It never hurt to make sure the voters were happy.

"Thanks Luv," Jonothon cracked the smallest of smiles.

"Aren’t you cold?" Jubilation shivered despite the massive, thick coat she wore. In this season the days were ridiculously cold, with the sun on the verge of setting it was getting colder still. If they were going to be on the run then they really needed to do it elsewhere, she just wasn't built for this climate.

"Freezing," Jonothon admitted, his own leather coat not doing the damndest thing to keep the cold night out. He almost welcomed it, the sharp bite of the chill wind, keeping him awake, keeping him in the here and now, cleanly separately what he knew was real and what he suspected was not.

Seeing that Jubilation continued to shiver beside him, her knees all but knocking together, he put one arm about her shoulders, the two of them leaning together. For warmth of course.

"You're a Pat you know that right?" Jubilation observed.

"Prat," Jonothon corrected. The hint of a smile from before became larger, more honest, and more sincere. Jonothon Starsmore was not good at letting people in; he was not good at letting people know what he felt, the scars he carried made it difficult, even now.

Not so long ago, with his heart broken, the young man had left those he called friends behind. He left them for a home that was no longer his; he left them because it was easier to be alone. In her own way Jubilation had done the same, nurturing her anger in the absence of friends.

In moments like these both of them could only wonder why they had tried so hard to be miserable.

"Whatever," Jubilation dismissed the Englishmen's correction concerning native insults with a wave of her hand. It was a silly word anyway. "By the way, I’ve decided, you’re not allowed to smile".

"What?" Jonothon arched his brow.

"I've decided..." Jubilation tilted her head to look at him, trying her utmost to appear at least vaguely serious. She studied his newly rebuilt face a chest with a critical eye. "...The face I can live with, but no...That’s just wrong".

The young woman made the pretence of a shudder, a smile on the face Jonothon Starsmore was just against the laws of nature.

"You also need a shave, you look like a bum."

"Sorry Luv," Jonothon apologised and removed the hint of a smile from his face following his chastising. The spark remained in his eyes, one that hadn't been seen in a long time. He shouldn't have taken this long to come home.

He shouldn't have waited until one of them was in danger before returning to his family.

"So you should be..." Jubilation nodded, pulling her knees up to her chest as the night grew colder with each passing moment. The light was growing ever dimmer, the shadows growing ever longer, the darkness growing ever stronger as the sun fell from view. For a moment the young woman held out her hand, a Pap of multicoloured fireworks fizzing and popping around them both, a single, defiant spark of light in the dark.

"...Winker"

"Wan..."

"What...Ever..." Jubilation groaned and swished her hand in an overly dramatic manner after being corrected for the second time. English cuss words were stupid anyway.

Jonothon resisted the urge to smile again, a gesture that only served to make him want to do it more.

After watching Jubilations brief Pyrokinetic display, the lights dancing across the night, and her continued shivering in the cold air, Jonothon Starsmore held his own hand out. With a focused thought, a clear intent, a sudden burst of light erupted into life around his limb, the Psionic Fire that was his birthright illuminating the lengthening shadows around them.

Jubilation watched it for a moment, the red and orange flames birthed from Jonathon’s core swirling about his fingers. It was like liquid, sliding across his skin and swirling forever upwards into the night, a chaotic manifestation of mental power taking on a life of its own.

She had never before noticed that the Psionic furnace that was Starsmore's to command, a power that had once destroyed his face and chest, was warm.

"Does it hurt?" she asked, clearly remembering the damage this same power had once done to his body. It was impossible for anyone to forget.

Jonothon said nothing at first, his own attention drawn to the Psionic Fire of his own making. He could feel it, always, burning inside him, waiting to be unleashed, a power that he could only use to turn him into one thing, a weapon of destruction. Jonathon’s power was not one meant to heal the world around him, only destroy it.

Or so he thought. The pain it caused him, the tightness in his chest, the burning in his lungs, the dozens of tears and blisters its left upon his skin, all of this only served to make him believe that. Maybe it was punishment, pain inflicted upon himself for causing it too others.

"Only all the time," he finally said.

"Then don't do it Tool!!" Jubilation swiftly elbowed the unsuspecting Englishmen in the ribs, the Psionic Furnace that surrounded his hand instantly going out. I mean really, Jubilation couldn't believe how dense Jonothon could be. Sometimes she had to believe that he liked being in pain, that he liked being miserable.

She probably wasn't far wrong.

Tool.

"Come on." Jubilation was on her feet, they had been sitting out in the cold and dark for quite long enough, more than long enough. "It sucks out here".

"I'm coming Gel..." Jonothon sat back up straight; rubbing his ribs after the unexpected blow they had received. He was getting a lot of abuse from this girl today "...just one Beer first".

"One?" Jubilation raised a questioning eyebrow, her hands on hips as she studied the Englishmen with a critical eye. She had spent long enough around Wolverine and his ilk to know that one Beer rarely actually meant one Beer. And while she may have provided it (towards her own ends) she certainly had no desire to be dragging Jonothon off to his bed after he'd overdone it.

"One," Jonothon promised. He had no great desire to be out here much longer, it was damn cold after all.

"Alright, don't make me come back out looking for you, I’ll kick your ass if I have to," Jubilation warned, jabbing him in the chest with her finger.

"Consider me warned," Jonothon assured her; all the while pulling one can away from the six-pack cluster.

"Hey Gel!!" Jonothon suddenly called out, halting Jubilation in her tracks as she turned to face him. "You got yerself one vote for tomorrow, would yer like to know how you can get another...?"

Alright, enough was enough, he might be English but that didn't mean he enjoyed the cold anymore than anyone else. Night had well and truly fallen and the temperature fell dramatically with it, his very breadth fogging the air in front of him. He'd had his beer, he had focused his thoughts and he had cleared his mind.

The voices were gone, the whispers faded, only his remained. His mind was once more his own, just as it should be.

Holding the empty can in hand he stood to his feet and, with a mental command, his limb briefly lit up with a burst of Psionic power. With a swift grinding of metal and rending of atoms the can was obliterated, his focalised mutant power reducing the piece of trash into little more than dust.

Flexing his fingers once, the Psionic Force he himself summoned fading into a memory, Jonothon Starsmore turned towards the Motel that now seemed annoyingly far away. He didn't get far.

"Damn it!!" he cursed and suddenly flinched, a white hot stab of pain ripping through his brain, a freezing finger cutting a swift swathe of agony across his thoughts. He clutched his head, the sudden and white hot shot of pain lingering for several moments after it had passed, a warm and copperish taste sliding down across lips.

His nose was bleeding.

*Jonothon*

Starsmore spun on the spot, his eyes trying to adjust to the impenetrable darkness all around him, searching for the source of the phantom voice. It was entirely instinct, a basic reaction, he already knew he would see nothing, that there would be nothing that he could see. It was not possible. Not when it came to the girl to whom that voice belonged.

"Damn it Gel," Jonothon quietly cursed "Can yer not leave me be?"

No answer was forthcoming. The young man sighed in frustration, tightly closing his eyes and wiping the crimson drops of blood from his chin. "It's nothing Jono" he whispered to himself quietly "It's all in yer head...just let it go". With a deep sigh, one that fully expanded his chest, he opened his eyes once more.

Nothing, there was nothing there, even the whisper was gone, for the moment at least. Looking to his side he saw the five remaining cans of the six-pack hanging limply from his hand. "Maybe one more..." he muttered to himself, one more wouldn't hurt.

He wouldn't have the chance to consider it further.

"Gluttony if a sin, my dear Mr. Starsmore..."

Panic suddenly gripped him, his heart pounding with sudden intensity as, from out of the darkness; an impossibly large hand fully wrapped itself around his head. The talons with were sharp and sinister, ebony black and reached out for him from the shadows themselves, a phantom in the dark, a nightmare given life.

He had felt this touch before, this grip of death, a fiend that had once been human and now fed upon his own kind. It belonged to the twisted brother of one of his closest friends.

Marius St. Croix.

Emplate.

"...but I can hardly fault you for that!!"