It's Our Last Chance to Feel Again

I heard a soft rap at the door, which was immediately followed by a gentle call. "Kat? Are you awake?"

Despite myself, I smiled at the thought of how stupid Uncle Jack would feel if I had been asleep and he had just talked to himself. As if Uncle Jack could hear me smile, he silently turned the doorknob and entered as quietly as a clumsy overweight man could.

I watched as Uncle Jack whipped around and lost his balance temporarily, before his flailing arms helped stable his footing, and couldn't help the grin that had morphed from my smile. It wasn't everyday a middle-aged man tried to sneak into my room, and the rare sight was definitely etching itself in my memory.

After more moments of failed attempts at being a spy, Uncle Jack eventually turned back around to face my bed and noticed that I wasn't deep in sleep but was instead, watching him.

"Oh, for- You didn't think to respond and save me all that trouble of having to be qu- You know what? Never mind. That's not important," Uncle Jack snapped before adopting a sympathetic tone, "Are you okay?"

Gathering all my facial strength, I concentrated on keeping the cheesy grin on my face so that my wavered grin wouldn't reveal to Uncle Jack just how upset I was. "I'm fine," I assured, and cringed mentally at the pain that was now maliciously attacking my cheeks.

My insides swelled with pride when Uncle Jack took a look long at me. Fooling Uncle Jack into believing I was truly fine was a good enough reward for the pain my cheeks had to endure.

That feeling didn't last for long, of course. Uncle Jack's raised eyebrow and pursed lips was a fatal blow to the bubble of pride I had encased myself in during the few minutes of silence.

"Katherine, I need you to know something: As hard as it is to believe, I am not stupid. Do you really expect me to believe that you're fine when you've obviously been crying?"

My eyes widened with shock and my tense cheek muscles instantly relaxed, leaving my lips curved downwards. "How did you know?"

Uncle Jack's short reply of "you have red eyes and tears running all over your face" brought a blush to my aching cheeks and shame to my flabbergasted tone.

I shrugged in response to Uncle Jack's query of how I was feeling, and turned my body away so that I was now facing the window that overlooked the sea. If I had thought it through however, I wouldn't have made that move because I was instantly hit with memories of Jacob and I, which brought a fresh roll of tears ready to march their way down my cheeks. It was at the beach where he first talked to me, where we spent the night, where he comforted me and made me feel so safe.

Of course now he had to put himself in harms' way. Had to risk his stupid life to save some other girl. Had to be all heroic and get involved in a fight that wasn't even his to begin with. And even though I was angry, I found myself liking him even more for that. He was standing up for his best friend. He was out helping those murdering beasts even though he hated them. Even though the werewolves all hated them. He even kept me under house arrest just so that he could make sure I was safe.

Although I didn't agree with his decision to keep me monitored at Uncle Jack's house, it didn't take away the fact that he had done it purely out of concern for me. It didn't remove the constant tug at my heart which reminded me that I was being looked out for.

On top of the fact that I was reliving memories as if Jacob were already dead, the conflicting emotions that were at war in my head caused even more tears to make their presence known.

It was obvious: I was an emotional wreck, and it was all because of one werewolf by the name of Jacob Black.

I felt the bed dip the same time I heard the springs beneath the mattress squeak in complaint. Not wanting Uncle Jack to see me in such a state, I kept my face forward, leaving very little of my face viewable for him.

The silence that was neither awkward nor comfortable surrounded us spread on for quite some time. Even though it got quite unbearable after a while, my mind refused to let thoughts that weren't about Jacob or the fight in and so, I had nothing to break the silence with.

The silence soon got to a point where it was deafening, and Uncle Jack eventually sighed, "Look, Kat. I know you're upset, but there really isn't any need for you to be. Jake, and Sam for that matter, knows what he's doing."

I brushed away my tears sloppily with my hands before turning to look at Uncle Jack. "Didn't you hear what my dad said? They'll win only if they get help. That doesn't sound like there isn't any need for me to be feeling like a helpless idiot."

"Shit, you heard that?" Uncle Jack asked, his eyes wide with panic. My lack of answer seemed to be the perfect answer for him because he then took it upon himself to curse my dad's inability to speak quietly.

After deciding that I had heard enough, I interrupted him with a shake of my head, "I asked for an answer, and I got it. At least I can now prepare myself for the possibility that Jacob doesn't live to hear me say I found out about him being my imprint."

Uncle Jack's reply wasn't what I had expected it to be. "Well, you've called a few people and found out quite a few things. You could just call Jacob and tell him."

I raised my eyebrow at him bitchily, which contrasted greatly to the gentle tone he had been using the whole time he spoke to me.

"What?" Uncle Jack asked defensively.

"I can't just call him. That's so... I don't know what the protocol is when it comes to this whole imprinting thing, or with normal relationships for that matter, but I do know that you have to reveal something as huge as this in person. Unless of course you're in no position to meet the other person face-to-face, or you just don't have the courage to say it straight," I retorted, quite shocked that I had to tell Uncle Jack all of this, and then mumbled under my breath, "Although the fact that I may never see him again might make this a helpless situation."

Uncle Jack was quiet for a while before he exhaled noisily through his nose and said, "Katherine, I know your father made things seem like the pack are definitely going to die, but really it's just him. He's just... You need to understand that your father lost his imprint to the vampires because he was outnumbered and helpless. That's a huge thing for him, considering the fact werewolves have a huge ego and are also supposed to protect the Quileutes from vampires — which basically means they should be stronger than the vampires. So for him to see the pack get involved in a fight with a big number of vampires unnecessarily, it reminds him a lot about Julia and her death.

"And of course you can't expect him to trust the vampires. Not after what he went through, at least, and so the pack and the Cullens fighting with instead of against each other is a concept he finds hard to grasp," He explained.

"I don't blame him for not trusting the vampires- I don't exactly trust them either. But he didn't have to be so horrid. He could've been a lot more understanding," I grumbled, folding my arms stubbornly.

"And the same could be said for you. You're terrified about losing Jake now, but imagine this. Imagine what it must be like for you if he does die, and you have to live with it for the rest of your life. Imagine what it must be like for you to watch him die, and to then be blamed for it. Your father could've put things a little more nicely, I agree, but what you're experiencing now is something he's had to live with for the past sixteen years," Uncle Jack defended my father, giving me the slap I so dearly needed to bring me back to reality.

I hadn't thought about it from my father's point of view, and now that I did... Well, it didn't make take away any of the pain. On the contrary, it only made it worse for me to realise that Jacob really could die tomorrow. But it did make me realise that my father had every right to be bitter and doubt the outcome of tomorrow. He would naturally fear that the Cullows — or whatever their name was — would turn against the pack.

Sure, he didn't have anyone important to lose in the fight tomorrow, but he hated the vampires as strongly as I felt for Jacob, and that was enough to concern him. Besides, if things did go wrong tomorrow, and the vampires could make their way to La Push unstopped, he'd have to face them again, and watch as the small town he'd grown up in was slowly lost to the ravenous vampires.

My arms fell limply to my side, and I sighed in sympathy for my father, but kept my frown in place. It was a lot easier to blame him for my state, than to have nothing. I was being selfish, and I knew it. But I didn't want to feel as lost as I would if I couldn't pin the blame on.

"Kat, really, you have nothing to worry about. Werewolves are the very creatures that were, technically, made to destroy vampires. We've got a big pack — you saw how many of them were at the dinner the other night — and the Cullens will be doing everything they can to keep Bella safe," Uncle Jack assured once more, but it didn't take my frown away.

Instead, my frown furrowed deeper. "So we've got the Cullens who frankly, I don't trust, and a pack of about twelve wolves. That against thousands of vampires? Remind me why I don't have any reason to worry?" I stubbornly asked.

"Seriously. Ryan is... He exaggerates too much. There aren't thousands of them. A big number, yes, but not thousands. And the wolves have been training hard along with the Cullens to prepare for the fight, so they'll know how to take care of themselves," Uncle Jack smiled.

"How many of the vampires will there be, exactly?" I asked, still unwilling to let it go. Feeling resentful and hopeless had always been easier than being hopeful and having to face with sheer bitter disappointment.

Uncle Jack's facial expression changed from one of worry and concern to annoyance for just a second, before it became expressionless. "I don't know the exact number, but maybe slightly less than a hundred?" He estimated, rubbing the back of his neck.

Less than a hundred. I still had reason to worry of course, but not as many as I had before. Reluctant to admit that I had gotten over my bitterness, I took the long way around things.

"Less than a hundred? That's a far cry from thousands," I replied, my voice sounding weird from the laugh and sourness I had injected in.

Uncle Jack looked confused for a moment, before reading through my lousy cover. He smiled as he stood up, the springs of the mattress bouncing back up in joy, and made a sound of acknowledgement before leaving my room noisily.