Hi Everyone! Sorry about the long delay, but I had to go in for surgery. It was kind of a sudden thing, not really expected, but the doctors say it went well so that has to be good. I'm still in recovery and I'm really tired (and the doctors still can't agree on what's making me sick in the first place! Since February, I've been sick. I'm so sick of it! AARRGGHH!), but I have enough energy to play with the computer today so I decided to update!

Oh, guess what! This story won the March Challenge at Nightscrawlers! I'm so happy about that, I'm fit to burst! I don't know what it is about those challenges. If I see one, I have to try it. It's like a compulsion. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this next bit!

ENTR'ACTE

"But Uncle Logan, if you didn't catch him, how--?"

"Storm," Logan explained. "She'd seen the laser fire from the Blackbird and flown ahead to help. Lucky for Kurt, here, she was able to slow his fall with a timely gust of wind. But that didn't stop him from landing on that broken window."

Kurt winced, rubbing an old scar on his side. "Don't remind me," he said. "When I woke up, I was swathed in bandages from head to toe. Not to mention…" he gestured to his eye patch with a vague shrug. "The laser beam just grazed the side of my head. I was lucky, though. One micrometer to the left and—"

"Don't," Wanda interrupted sharply, covering her husband's hand with both her own. "Don't think about that. When they brought you to the medbay and I saw all that blood…for a moment I truly thought—I was so afraid that—"

"Wanda," Kurt said softly, gently kissing the hands that were squeezing his so tightly. "Liebling, it is all right."

TJ glanced at her parents, biting her lip with one sharp canine. Rosie averted her eyes, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Logan drained his beer and set the bottle down with a clank.

"Hey, how'd you think I feel?" he said. "If Kurt hadn't played the hero that night, I would have been a goner. We really set ol' Poccy back, though," he grinned. "We wrecked all three of those mechanical beasts, and Pestilence was out of commission for almost a year. Not to mention catchin' Mesmero."

"Ja," Kurt allowed. "But Apocalypse and his Horsemen did get away."

"Dad," TJ said. "That's not the point. What you did that night was amazing! I can't believe you've never talked about it!"

"I agree with TJ," Rosie spoke up. "That really was incredible. I mean, you stood face to face with Apocalypse and survived. There aren't many good guys who can say that."

Kurt started to chuckle at that, but ended up laughing out loud. Wanda also cracked a smile. TJ grinned.

"Thanks for telling us that story, Uncle Logan," she said. "And thank you, Daddy. I know that was hard for you, and I really appreciate it."

For a moment Kurt looked uncomfortable. Then his expression softened and he pulled his daughter into a warm hug. After a long moment, they both sat back with a smile.

"Well, this has certainly been some birthday party," he said with a chuckle. "What time is it, anyway?"

Rosie glanced at the wall clock and gasped. "It's nearly two thirty in the morning!" she exclaimed. "How can it possibly have gotten so late?"

"We musta been havin' a good time," Logan shrugged.

"Rosie has a point, though," Wanda said. "It is pretty late. We should have been home hours ago."

"No, it's OK," Rosie said quickly. "I'm really honored you let me join you. It was my privilege to host your party at my bar."

"Geez, Rosie-girl, don't go all formal on us," Logan said. "You've got a great place here."

"Yeah, thanks Rosie," TJ smiled. "Do you need any help taking down the balloons and stuff?"

"No, it's OK. I have some helpers coming in the morning."

"Then I guess we'd better be heading out," Wanda said as she, Kurt, and TJ stood and put on their coats. "We do have a bit of a drive ahead of us, after all. Good night, Rosie."

"Good night, guys," Rosie grinned. "Come back any time. And happy twenty-one, TJ!"

"It was really great," TJ said. "And I really liked that German beer."

Kurt laughed and put an arm around his daughter's shoulder. "That's my girl," he smiled proudly.

"Regular chip off the old block," Wolverine added from his chair. "'Night, Rosie-girl. I'll see you next week."

Rosie watched as the four of them filed out the door, then went to get her own coat. The balloons could stay upuntil morning.

An hour or so after leaving Rosie's Bar, TJ was just climbing into bed when she heard a soft knock at her door.

"Yeah?" she called out. "Who's there?"

The door opened and Kurt stepped in. "It's just me," he said, coming over to sit at the edge of her bed. TJ scooted over a bit, bending her knees to make room. Kurt smiled softly, his expression distant.

"You know," he said, "I remember when your mother and I first bought you this bed. Your feet barely made it halfway down. I used to sit right here and tickle your toes through the sheets." He chuffed a soft, nostalgic laugh. "Now, you've gotten so big there is barely room left for me."

TJ shot her father a look. "Dad, come on," she said. "There's always room for you."

Kurt looked at his daughter's face; reading the familiar, wry warmth in her golden eyes, the curve of her full lips—so much like Wanda's—and found himself blinking back a sudden stinging in his own eye. Recovering quickly, he smiled, reaching out to squeeze her slender hand.

"Have I told you today how beautiful you are?"

TJ smirked. "Only about a hundred times. And don't start on about how fast the time has gone because I've heard that one too. Twenty-one is just a number, Dad. Sure I have a boyfriend and I'm really busy with school and work and stuff and sometimes I forget to call. But I love you. I'm serious—you're my hero, Dad, and that's never going to change."

Kurt found he had to swallow hard before he could reply to that. "Ach, Liebling…" He reached out to tuck a stray lock of indigo hair behind her pointed ear, allowing his hand to linger a moment over the side of her face. TJ smiled and nestled her cheek against his palm before sliding back against her pillow. Kurt sighed and dropped his hand to his lap.

"I am going to tell you something now," he said quietly, his lone eye fixed on his fidgeting thumbs. "It is a story I have never told anyone. Not Logan, not Herr Professor…not even your mother."

TJ sat up, her head tilted slightly, waiting for him to continue. Kurt glanced over to her door to make certain it was closed, then bent his head down close to hers, lowering his voice like a conspirator in the back room of a pub. "You asked me before how I lost my eye," he said.

TJ furrowed her brow, slightly confused. "Yeah, but didn't Uncle Logan—"

"What your uncle told you was only part of the truth," Kurt interrupted, clearly uncomfortable. "I did lose my eye that night—but it was not the eye I was born with."

"Huh? Wait, are you saying you had a fake eye before that? Like that TV detective…what's his name…Columbo?"

Kurt smirked at that. "Ja, pretty much," he confessed. "But let me explain. It was a long time ago, long before I'd ever heard of the X-Men or teleportation or even mutants. I was twelve years old, and my brother Stefan's friend Richie had just arrived at our little family circus all the way from the United States…"

Next Time: Layer Three--The Truth. And then, the Epilogue! Stay Tuned!