A/N: I realized I've never written a Western, so here I am trying a different style! I'm afraid there are no powers in the Old West, though – sorry, guys.

The X-Men aren't mine and I'm not making money with them. However, this story was thoroughly conceived by me. I'll appreciate if you leave a review.

Keep in mind that this chapter contains some very mature themes. Read with caution, or don't read it if you might get uncomfortable.

Chapter 1 – The Mastermind.

Every now and then, we are faced with situations that define the rest of our lives – a last-second decision we make that steer our fates in a completely different direction. Like that one step sideways given just in time to avoid being ran over by a horse, or some harsh word spoken that can't never be unsaid. It's that job opportunity or marriage proposal that was either accepted or denied, or the pull of a trigger that defended or ended a life.

No matter how or when the defining moment catches us, we always know one millisecond before that it's there.

Mine happened in a private library.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. First, I need to explain the sequence of events that led me to that room on a long-gone Saturday night.

My name is Jean Grey, although I must admit that it was Jean Wyngarde for a while. I was five years old when I first met Jason. Both of our fathers were Scottish men who had jumped at the opportunity of fleeing the famishing nineteenth-century Highlands to find a better life in the opposite side of the Atlantic. His family came to America a few years before mine, and if it weren't for his father's big heart, the Greys would still be searching for means to establish themselves in the New World.

We lived with the Wyngardes for almost eight months until dad and my three brothers could gather enough money to rent a decent place for ourselves. It consisted of a two-story house located in the blooming village of Salem, in New York. Not surprisingly, it was semi-detached to Mr. Wyngarde's home.

Becoming Jason's neighbor was almost as fun as living under the same roof as him, and I was thrilled by the prospect of remaining close to my only friend at the time. Being also the youngest son and only two years older than me, he was my 'partner in crime', as dad used to say. I would frequently spend more time in his house than in mine, playing hide and seek or listening to his brother's made-up stories about life in the far West. Some afternoons, after we were done with school, Jason would drag me to the village's market so we could watch people trading goods or shopping; he had a knack of finding out beforehand which customer would end up with what merchandise, and he took great pleasure in that.

We grew up pretty much together. His mother -God bless her soul- was the only other female around, since my mother had died while giving birth to me and neither of us had sisters. Mrs. Wyngarde was nothing but kind to me, calling me 'Little Jeannie' and taking me shopping for a new dress on my every birthday. She was also a divine cook and would often ask me to help her in kitchen. In hindsight, I think she considered cooking a skill that every woman should master, and until today I can't thank her enough for having taught me her secrets.

Me spending so much time with Jason's family never bothered dad. On the contrary, for times it felt like he was relieved to not have to deal with me and my girlie issues on a regular basis. He never said a word about it, but I've always felt that he resented me for my mother's passing. After all, before I -a late born, unprogrammed child- arrived in the family, he had a wife and three healthy boys. John Grey cared for me as much as the memory of his one true love allowed him to.

In the years that followed, both dad and Mr. Wyngarde did well in their respective businesses, Mr. Wyngarde always a little ahead of my father. When Jason turned sixteen, he was sent to New York City to study. His father wanted him to become a lawyer, and remaining in Salem would do him no good in that sense.

I didn't see him for nearly three years. Then, on one Christmas Eve, a horse and buggy halted before my house while I was shoveling snow away from the entrance.

"Jeannie? Oh my God, look at you!"

Our eyes met, and instead of my drafty childhood friend I saw a respectable, fully grown-up man. Jason was dressed in a white shirt with high winged collar and a dark tailored suit, all covered by a fine wool coat. His distinguished look was further complimented by a bowler hat, shining black shoes, and a leader briefcase. He had also grown a Verdi beard and moustache, the same light brown shade as his hair.

I dropped the shovel and gazed at his unusual figure. "J-Jason?"

He hadn't turned particularly handsome, but the dandy outfit added to the facial hair had made him quite presentable. For the first time in my life, I felt self-conscious of my own looks.

He strode the few steps separating us, carefully avoiding the slush on the stairway to the porch, and hugged me tightly. "I've missed you, Jeannie!" Then he placed his briefcase on my father's rocking chair, held my right hand on his, and motioned for me to perform a 360-degree spin before him. I felt my cheeks blushing as my long auburn tresses and battered grey skirt whirled around with me.

"Wow! Look at you," he repeated as I stood face to face with him again, his hand still gripping mine and both of us smiling. I noticed his eyes lingering on my chest for two unending seconds before it returned to my flushed face.

"Well, look at you! All that new hair on your face!" I replied and we laughed like two silly best friends who hadn't been apart for more than a day. When the laughter died and I could no longer stare in silence at that strange yet familiar young man, I tugged at his sleeve and pulled him towards his parents' door. "Come on, let's go inside. I bet your mom's dying to see you."

As in the previous years, our families spent Christmas together. I pinned up my hair in a stylish way and made sure to wear my finest shoes and a brand-new dress. During dinner, Jason told us all about his studies in New York, and more than once his eyes caught mine across the table, seeking approval; then he would smile or just wink playfully at me. No one had ever flirted with me like that before, and I felt my heart pounding fast inside my ribcage.

When everyone was done eating, Mrs. Wyngarde and I stood up to do the dishes, but Jason swiftly took the plates from her hands and told her to remain seated. In the kitchen, he watched me while I soaped the china.

"You look lovely, Jean."

I felt my face reddening again, and again when he asked me, bluntly, if I had a boyfriend. Attending a girls-only Christian school since being seven, I hadn't had the opportunity to meet many boys in my life except for a couple of guys at Church. When I explained that to him, he grinned.

"Meet me in the back lawn after Midnight Mass."

I did. Between two puffs of his pipe, Jason kissed me under the gentle night snow. It was sweet and chaste at first, but I could tell by the way his palm pressed against the small of my back that he wanted more. I broke it, afraid that someone might see us, and wished him goodnight. On the next day, he asked my father for my hand in marriage. Six months later, as soon as our studies were finished, I became Mrs. Jean Wyngarde.

After the ceremony, I moved to New York City with Jason. He had just been hired by a British company for a wage that was barely enough to make ends meet. But my husband was a man of vision – he knew that acting as a trading firm lawyer would put him in contact with many important people. He only needed to be hard-working and patient, and soon new and better opportunities would arise.

I, for my turn, became an exemplary housewife. I would clean, wash, and cook, then I would spend the rest of my day reading the latest newspaper novel while I waited for Jason to arrive. Knowing that my favorite stories were the ones about cowboys and Indians, he promised to take me on a trip to the West someday.

"Anything for you, my darling," my husband used to say.

The other thing I did those days was trying to get pregnant. As newlyweds, conceiving a child should not have been difficult, and God knows we've tried. But after one year without ever getting my menses late, I began to worry. I wanted to see a doctor, but Jason told me that I worried too much. I was young, only nineteen, and eventually we would succeed in bringing a child into the world.

So, I waited. Another year passed. Jason was promoted, twice, and got a much bigger salary. We moved to a better house in a better neighborhood because his new position demanded receiving people at home – important people for important business transactions. That meant I had a new role to play now, as a hostess. At least once a week there would be businessmen coming for dinner. I made sure to always prepare tasty meals and to have two or three options of good liquors in the cabinet; for his turn, Jason made sure that I'd always look nice around his clients. He would often buy me new dresses or jewelry and would advise me of what to wear on each occasion. Not infrequently, I'd hear guests complimenting him on his beautiful wife, and every time he closed a business deal he took me out to celebrate. After all, we were 'partners in crime', he would joke.

With his success came new acquaintances. Besides holding small dinners in our house, we began to attend gatherings in other people's homes. At the beginning, I felt out of place among such illustrious individuals, but I quickly learned that alcohol and smiling made the mingling much easier. By the time we attended our third party, I already felt confident among the businessmen's wives. All I had to do was look young and pretty, and the women would come to talk to me before their husbands could.

It was during one of those occasions that I met Sebastian Shaw and his wife, Selene. Mr. Shaw was a middle-aged man who owned the Hellfire Trading Company, one of the leading firms in the overseas importing and exporting business. Jason had discovered that the company had made almost half a million dollars in the previous year, turning Shaw into one of the richest businessmen in America. Since then, he had decided that he would work for the man or die trying.

As soon as Jason spotted the prominent couple, he whispered to me to act charmingly and took my arm in his. We approached the Shaws together, but I could feel Sebastian's eyes on me even before we had been presented.

My husband introduced himself, then me.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Wyngarde," Shaw said, holding my hand on a firm grip and kissing it.

I smiled prettily. "Likewise, Mr. Shaw."

Jason told him about his experience as a trading lawyer while Selene complimented me on my good looks. The four of us chatted for some time, and all the while I could sense Sebastian watching me. It made me uncomfortable, to say the least.

His wife must have noticed it as well because she soon invited me for a drink in the balcony. We left the men and went out to enjoy the alcohol and fresh air. She offered me a cigarette even though it was forbidden for women to smoke in public places. In a bold move, I accepted it.

"You're delightful, Jean!" she cried half-laughing as I struggled not to choke in the smoke. After the third drag, I finally managed to stop coughing and started to enjoy the sensation of nicotine filling my lungs.

I spent the rest of the evening talking to Selene. She was older than me by at least fifteen years, but her high cheeks and jet-black hair made her stand out in the crowd. She knew everyone by name and position and didn't hesitate to voice what she really thought of the women and men in the room. She also told me things about her and Sebastian, things that I considered too intimate to share with someone you had just met. But I had learned in the previous months that rich people were eccentric like that, and I didn't give a second thought about the matter. She was the most interesting person I had met in a long time, and she seemed to like me. That was good enough for me.

I was a little tipsy by the time Jason found me. He had a different glow in his eyes, and as soon as we stepped into our home again, he lifted me in his arms and kissed me hard. My first thought was that he was going to reproach me for having smoked, but instead he beamed and told me he had gotten an interview with Sebastian Shaw.

"I'm so happy for you!" I replied.

He kissed me again. We ended up making love on the dining room floor; then he lit up his pipe and sat at the piano to play for me. Jason was an excellent musician, but he only played when he was feeling truly happy.

I was happy too, or at least I thought I was. I hadn't thought of kids for a while, too busy helping my husband to establish his name. By that time, we had been married for three years, and I was sure of Jason's love for me. He treated me well and provided me with a comfortable, urban life. I didn't see the need to have any plans of my own.

By the end of the week Shaw had hired him, and we were invited to dinner so they could get to know each other better. His house in Manhattan -it was actually a mansion- was the most impressive place I had ever set foot in, adorned with countless Persian rugs, fine arts, and ancient furniture. We ate, drank, smoked, and laughed, and Sebastian's predatory eyes kept drifting my way. Finally, the men retreated to the studio, leaving Selene and I alone. She smiled elegantly at me.

"Have you ever tried opium, dear?"

All color left my face. "Um… No."

Again, she must have noticed my discomfort. "Some other time, perhaps."

I informed Jason about Selene's offer as soon as we got home, but he didn't seem troubled. Instead, he told me about his new salary -which was very satisfying- and that he would need to travel more frequently for work. I wasn't thrilled with the idea, but he was finally getting where he wanted in life, and I couldn't take that away from him. But I did let him know that Shaw's staring bothered me. The reaction I got from my husband wasn't exactly what I had expected.

"You're very attractive, darling. Men can't help but stare."

Indeed, Jason traveled a lot in the following months, always returning with a new book or the latest body soap to prove how much he'd missed me. Nonetheless, the music in the living room whenever he was at home told me how excited he was about his new job.

The more he traveled, the loner I felt. By the end of another year, the desire to become a mother had returned with full force. I asked him to accompany me to a doctor, because it wasn't acceptable for a married woman to see a physician without her husband. Again, Jason replied that I shouldn't worry; besides, he simply didn't have the time to go with me.

Summer was coming to an end when I received a letter from my oldest brother informing that my father had passed away. I had known that he had been ill lately, but I hadn't had the chance to visit him because Jason couldn't afford to take a few days off work. He couldn't even accompany me to the funeral now. Twice as brokenhearted, I hired a carriage and went to Salem by myself.

The next big party we attended was thrown by the Shaws themselves. Jason bought me a dress with matching hat specially for the occasion, stating that I had to look fabulous because we would be sitting with his boss. The tight boned corset suffocated me throughout the night, but the important thing was that it made my bust larger and my waist thinner, as my husband explained to me. From across the table, Sebastian Shaw stared at my chest throughout the night; Selene squeezed my hand and told me I looked divine in green.

I wasn't feeling nor acting particularly pleasant that evening, and Jason noticed it. When I stood up to go refresh myself, he followed me and grabbed my arm before I could enter the restroom.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked me lowly.

"Escaping from your boss's gaze," I hissed back.

His brown eyes narrowed for a brief moment before he could recompose himself. "Don't be silly, darling. You know how important it is that the Shaws like us. You must be nice to them."

"Jason, I-I don't feel-"

"Let him stare, Jean," he said, tilting my chin up with his hand. "I don't mind it. You shouldn't either."

I was taken aback by his response. My eyes filled with tears, but before I could cry or retort, Jason let go of my face and whispered to me, "Mrs. Shaw is coming. Be nice." Then he left.

"Jean, I was worried about you. You don't look quite like yourself tonight. Are you alright?" Selene asked me, sounding genuinely concerned.

"I-I'm fine. Thanks," I attempted a smile.

She tilted her head a bit, examining my face, then smiled almost motherly. "Men can be insensitive sometimes, dear… but I know how to make you feel better. Come with me."

She took me by the hand and gently guided me to a secluded room, closing the door behind us. She motioned for me to sit in one of the two armchairs facing the fireplace, then removed a long cylindric object from a drawer and held it above a lit candle for a few seconds. My eyes widened when I realized what she was boiling.

Satisfied with her work, Selene turned around and offered me the pipe. "This should help you to calm down. And don't worry, no one will bother us here."

I had heard stories of rich people visiting opium dens in Chinatown, and not all of them ended up well. Then I remembered Jason's warning for me to 'be nice', and how hurt and angry he had made me only minutes ago. 'Why not?' I thought to myself.

The first drag sent a shiver of pleasure down my spine. The second made me forget why I had been upset in the first place. I can't recall if there was a third drag.

The rest of the night became a blur. I remember Selene walking me back to our table at some point, then being helped into a carriage and getting home with my husband. On the next day, I woke up to Jason kissing my neck. The partial amnesia scared me, and I promised myself to never smoke opium again.

The next time I saw Selene was in a New Year's Eve party at the city hall. We were dancing with our respective husbands, but when the string quartet began a new waltz, Sebastian requested to exchange couples. I felt his right arm encircling my waist, pulling me too close to him. I didn't dare to push him away.

"You look absolutely beautiful tonight, Jean. As usual," he whispered in my ear, his black beard scratching the side of my face.

I managed to gulp down my repulsion. "Thank you, Mr. Shaw."

"You know… I've developed a great amount of appreciation for your husband. He's a clever man, and you seem like a clever woman, Jean. With my guidance, you and he can achieve a very profitable future. All I ask in return is that you keep me… satisfied."

I tried not to stutter much. "J-Jason is completely devoted to you, sir."

"He is," Shaw nodded.

At that moment, the music stopped and a round of applause filled the ball room. I graciously disentangled myself from Sebastian's arms to stood beside my husband, who grinned down at me. Champagne was served, and Shaw raised his flute in our direction. "To the new year!"

"To the new year," we replied.

On the following day, I told Jason what Shaw had said to me and asked what he had meant by us needing to keep him satisfied. My husband was absolutely ecstatic to know that his boss held him on such high standards; then he explained that the Hellfire Trading Company was expanding to the West, and that he -meaning we- had been asked to move to the countryside to oversee new transactions.

Hence, by the end of spring, we found ourselves living in Springfield, Missouri. The town was much smaller than New York City, and despite my sizeable collection of books, I soon became bored with its underdevelopment. The bright side was, Jason was more often at home now.

Among all of their profitable businesses, the Shaws owned a tobacco farm in the outskirts of Springfield. Whenever they were there, they would invite us over to lunch or dinner. In spite of my previous promise, I caught myself enjoying opium with Selene once or twice again, blaming it on boredom. Both her and the drug made me feel relaxed, and Jason didn't mind.

It was a hot Saturday afternoon, and we were on the way to a small gathering at their house. From inside the covered wagon, I could distinguish the silhouette of a woman sporting a mohawk, sitting on the back of a horse on the verge of the road. Oddly, she seemed to be staring back at me.

"Who's that?" I asked our wagoner.

The man glanced in the direction I was pointing and shook his head in annoyance. "That's the Wind Rider, ma'am. She better not approach Mr. Shaw's lands again. He hates it when Indians try to steal his crop."

Our vehicle turned onto the cobblestone pathway that ended at Shaw's farmhouse. We were greeted by Selene and Sebastian, the latter helping me to climb down the wagon.

"It's nice to have you here again, Jean."

Harry Leland and Donald Pierce, two associates of Shaw, had been invited as well. The food was delicious, as always; when the early dinner was over, the men gathered for drinks and a poker game while Selene and I relaxed in the living room couch with bourbon and opium. I rested my neck against the headrest and closed my eyes, not bothering to look when Selene removed my boots and started to give me a foot massage.

"Ohh… I must be in heaven," I murmured lazily to her.

"Not yet, dear," she replied.

I'm not sure how much time passed before Sebastian approached us.

"Selene, darling, take my place at the table. I'm going to show Jean the library."

I opened my eyes and met his gaze. "W-What?"

"Jason tells me you like to read. Come take a look at the books we have."

I quickly glanced at the table and saw my husband watching me from behind his playing cards. Meanwhile, Shaw extended a hand in my direction. I had no other option but to accept it.

He pulled me up from the couch and guided me into a hallway, his palm on my back urging me forward. We must have passed at least four or five rooms before we made it to the library.

"What do you think?" Sebastian asked me, scratching his beard.

Still a little drowsy from the opium, I snatched a glass oil lamp from a desk and walked to the opposite wall where several books were displayed in shelves. I raised the lamp so I could read the titles and realized I didn't know most of them.

Suddenly, I felt Shaw's hot breath on my neck. I tried to move away, but he held my arms firmly from behind. My blood ran cold.

"We won't be needing this," he said as he took the lamp from my hand and placed it back on the desk. Then he turned me around and kissed my mouth, one hand securing my left arm while the other tugged at the ribbons on the back of my dress.

I managed to push him away a little, eyes wide with terror. "W-What is this?"

"Something I've been wanting for a long time. Be a good girl, and I promise to be gentle," Shaw replied with a malicious grin.

He leaned towards me again and I turned my face sideways just in time to avoid his lips. "B-But Jason…"

"Jason doesn't mind," he told me bluntly, grabbing my jaw with his right hand and rotating my face forward so he could look me in the eye. "Your husband will be made my business partner after tonight. It's all set, Jean."

Hearing that, I felt my knees getting weak. No, it couldn't be true. Jason loved me. He would never-

Sebastian pressed me against the bookshelves and used one hand to lift my skirt while the other held me in place by the arm. His mouth returned to my neck, prompting my eyes to tear up.

"Don't… please," I cried.

He ignored me. Panicked, I realized we were too distant from the living room for anyone to hear me screaming.

My defining moment had arrived, and I did the unthinkable. When Shaw let go of my arm to cup my right breast, I raised my knee and kicked him in the groin. He uttered a cry and released me for a second. I used the opportunity to run to the door, because I was sure that if I screamed from the hall, Jason would hear me. However, Sebastian quickly recovered and grabbed me by my left wrist, twisting it in the process. I yelped in pain as he yanked me towards him again. "Come back here, whore!" he yelled, gripping my hips with all his strength.

Desperate, I stretched my right arm and reached for the closest object, which happened to be an iron poker resting beside the fireplace. With one movement, I hit Shaw in the head with it. He let go of me, dropping to the floor like a stone.

The poker slipped from my fingers as I stared paralyzed at his bleeding forehead. I couldn't tell if he was breathing or not, and that made my heart beat even faster than it already was. I barely noticed the broken lamp on the floor and fire starting to catch on the rug under Sebastian's legs.

Like in a trance, I exited the library and trudged back to the living room, halting about twenty feet from the poker table. I must have been quite a sight, with my pale face, disheveled hair, and half-torn dress, because all of a sudden the game stopped and the four players gaped at me.

"Darling… why aren't you with Mr. Shaw?" Jason inquired.

My eyes caught his. In a flash, I realized that he knew it. Like a mastermind, he had played me into this.

Abruptly, Selene raised from her chair, an angry scowl forming on her face. "What have you done to Sebastian?"

What had I done to Sebastian?

I knew what he had tried to do to me, but the truth was I didn't know what I had done to him. However, I did know that those people at the table weren't going to stand by my side. Not even my husband of five years.

So, I did the only thing I could. I ran. I fled through the front doors, my bare feet hurting against the cobbled stones, without realizing I had nowhere to go. I heard Jason yelling my name and ordering for me to stop, but I kept running. I also heard screams directed at the servants, asking them to bring in buckets of water. I dared to look back, and even through blurry eyes I could see Jason and Pierce running after me. Then I heard a shot in my direction. I let out a yell, terrified. It was too much to bear. Having reached the dirty road outside Shaw's estate, I fell on my knees, exhausted and defeated.

That's when she appeared, out of nowhere. I looked up, and there was the Wind Rider on the back of her horse. She reached out a hand to me.

Without hesitating, I took it.

A/N: What did you think? Should I continue writing?