All Jax remembered of the past few days was heat and pain, light fingers trailing over his skin. Smoothing a kind of paste into his muscles and back, cool to the touch, making him groan and arch into them. His muscles tingled at whatever paste was pressed into his skin and then relaxed utterly, like it was magic, the aches and pains in his muscles and bones easing. He shuddered at the touch, as his nerves lit up almost like they were hyper sensitive, like he was overheating. He remembered flashes of peace, quiet words that filtered through the pain, through his bones burning up, his heart racing in his chest. Sweat poured off of him easily, making him twist and turn about on the bed, wanting a drier spot on the sheet.

The English accent reminded him half of Chibs but for the most part, he held onto that voice. Low and a little rumbly, that accent telling him that whoever this man was, he wasn't a part of SAMCRO or even the Mayans.

"Hey, cub. How are you doing?"

Jax blinked awake at the words, the low accent of the voice unfamiliar. He immediately sat up, blindly reaching out for his gun and coming up empty. He glanced down at himself, seeing only his boxers on, but some clothes were set out on the table by the bed. Neatly folded and clean. And they were his. Jax reached out for them and quickly pulled on the flannel shirt and jeans, finding his kutte thrown over the back of a chair. He stood up as he pulled on his jeans and shoes, taking a step into the open room of the strange tent. He slipped his kutte on and took a deep breath, letting it settle onto his shoulders.

He looked around at the room in front of him, seeing a small kitchen, a big main room and… what looked like tent walls around them? He could see sunlight streaming through the tent door across from the bed he was on but he couldn't see anything outside. He could hear things though and all he could hear were the occasional sound of birds chirping. No road noises, no sounds of a garage or clubhouse. No familiar sounds or smells. He didn't see his bike anywhere and the last thing he remembered was riding out of Charming and howling coming from behind him.

"George did what now?"

The bed he was on was unfamiliar and everything was unfamiliar, making his heart jolt in his chest. He could feel sweat drip down his back and he ran a shaky hand through his hair, hearing footsteps outside of the… tent? Was this really.. His fingers curled into fists, into claws, and his blood roared in his ears. He didn't know where he was, didn't know who the guy was, didn't… didn't know what the fuck was going on and yet...

Quiet laughter filtered through his panic and then the pacing stopped and the sounds of a phone call ended. The tent door was pushed open and the same man from before stepped in, pausing at the entrance to stare at him. The guy looked at him easily, meeting his eyes slowly, and Jax looked into bright green eyes. Messy black hair curled around the guy's head, wet from a recent shower, and a scar stood out vividly on the guy's forehead, shaped like branches of lightning. The guy looked to be the same age as him, 30, and tall, sturdy, built like a runner.

Thump… Thump.. Thump. Thump.

"You want breakfast?"

"I'm not hungry," Jax retorted, taking a deep breath and startling at the intense scent of wet dog. The scent was strong, strong enough to make him think there was a dog hiding somewhere in the tent. "Where the fuck am I?"

"Several miles north of Charming. Random ass spot that has no people for miles," the man remarked, shrugging. "You sure you're not hungry? I was hungry, ravenously so, after the Change. Enough so that I probably could have eaten a hippogriff. Buckbeak looked at me funny for the rest of that day."

"The fuck do you mean?"

Harry stared at him and then sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Well, I'm hungry so either come join me outside to eat breakfast or stay in here. I'm not discussing this with you until after I eat."

"Who even are you, man?"

"Name's Harry. And you are…"

Thump. Thump. Thump.

"Jax Teller. I'd have figured you'd know my name."

Harry arched an eyebrow at him. "And how do you figure that?"

"You took me for a purpose, right?" Jax took a step towards Harry and another, taking deliberate steps towards the stranger. His gun and knife were nowhere to be seen but he still had his fists. Though there was… a sound, a thumping sound that… didn't help his concentration here. "The Mayans hire you?"

"Mayans?" Harry didn't move a single inch as Jax padded over to him, stopping two feet away, and at eye level with him. "I assume they're another gang? You're in a motorcycle gang, right?"

Thump…. Thump.. Thump…. Thump.

Jax recoiled from that word and glared at him, hearing his own stomach start to growl. "We're not a gang. It's a club. And who the fuck are you?"

"I'm the man who saved your life last night. The wolves were about to finish your ass off," Harry offered, his eyes flashing with what looked like irritation. "Jackson Teller, VP of the Sons of Anarchy. That's about all I know of you. Well and the fact that you have a boy in the hospital. That too."

Jax growled, feeling his stomach growl louder, his body shaking with anger. "That's none of your fucking business! Where the fuck is my bike?"

"If I offer to heal your kid, will you just sit down and listen to me?" Harry asked, his arms at his sides, loose and unconcerned. There was something behind his eyes though, something that made Jax want to tuck a hypothetical tail between his legs. "I am not a part of any motorcycle club, alright? I'm not law enforcement… Well, not your kind. Jax."

The touch to his left wrist made him start and take a breath, swallowing back the anger. Or trying to. Harry left his fingers on Jax's, the point of contact a spot of heat that made his vision narrow. Jax stared down at Harry's hands on his, his own heart skipping a beat.

"You know nothing about…" Jax paused and purposefully uncurled his fingers, seeing Harry's eyes flick to his hands and then back up to his eyes. "You would what?"

Thump. Thump. Thump.

"I can heal your kid," Harry offered, curling his fingers around Jax's. "If you just sit and have breakfast with me, okay? No strings attached."

"What."

His heart skipped a beat, maybe skipped two beats and restarted slowly. Harry's eyes softened and he nodded, withdrawing his fingers after a minute. "Come on. I'll explain over food. And for your information, the thump that you're most likely hearing is my heart beat."

Harry gestured outside and pushed the tent door open before walking out, quiet but firm footsteps leading out.

"Wait. What the fuck?" Jax yelled, following the man outside, breathing heavily, stopping at the sight that met him outside. It was a warm day, humid, and cloudy, not like it had been… "How long was I out? What the fuck-"

"Teller, you were 'out' for two days. I lugged your bike out here with you, don't worry," Harry interrupted, raising his voice a little and pointing right at his bike, which was leaning up against a tree trunk. It was slightly smoking still and the handlebars were twisted beyond repair. The wheels and tires had visible gashes in them, the metal had burn marks on it and the reaper that he had spray painted on was almost indistinguishable.

Seeing his bike torn apart, with its smoking metal and damaged frame made him see red, anger curling in the pit of his stomach. And then memories came flooding back. Howling echoed in his memories and the feeling of being hunted made him feel sick, remembering being pounced on. Remembered being attacked, remembered one of the wolves taking a chunk out of his shoulder, another taking a bite out of his knee. Claws at his back, cleaving his kutte apart, the leather falling to pieces.

Remembered waking up, sweaty, aching, his muscles rippling and shuddering all at once. Remembered charging at Harry when he had seen his bike that night. His fingers curled into fists and the punch he remembered throwing the stranger's way hadn't connected as well as he'd hoped. His limbs had been like jelly, wild and uncoordinated and adrenaline had shot through his body like lightning.

The stranger… Harry… had taken him down easy, kicking out with a well muscled leg and holding him in place. A sound left his throat at the sight and his fingers curled, turning into claws. He could almost feel the dirt underneath his feet, his claws already. He just needed to... He wanted to rip, to tear, to hunt, to… His hands tingled with sensation and shivered and… "Motherfucker! What the fuck?!"

Jax's eyes were glued to his hands, to where there was… yellow blond fur sprouting? Rolling down his skin and… His heart sputtered and then kickstarted, thumping fast like he was in a marathon. His stomach lurched at the sight, making him shift his weight between feet and he let out a strangled sound, raw and pained.

"Jax, look at me. Now."

"What the hell is happening? The fuck? I-"

"Jackson."

Fingers curled around his chin and tipped his face up, making him look right up and into vibrant green eyes. "Just breathe. Inhale."

Jax stared right at Harry, his breath hitching, uneasy and fast and what the fuck was happening and… Harry just stood there, holding him, exaggerating his breathing, his chest expanding visibly. He hadn't even heard the guy move.

"Breathe for me," Harry continued, inhaling again. "Come on, Jax. You can do this."

Jax took a minute but he did finally take a shaky breath, feeling his whole body still at the motion.

"There you go," Harry whispered, looking him over slowly and then nodding. "And exhale. That's it. Good."

Harry pulled away and took a step back from him, continuing to match his breath. Jax exhaled out long and loud, adrenaline leaving him in a rush and leaving his legs shaky. "Good. Again."

Jax inhaled on a shuddery breath and sat down like somewhere strings had been cut, exhaling again. He glanced down at his hands, turning them upward and looking, searching only to see no fur. Just pale skin. And then his stomach growled, loud and embarrassing. He curled a hand over his stomach and expected mocking laughter, expected Harry to make a cutting joke.

Only to be met with a plate pushed into his hands along with a fork and knife. Smells wafted up from the plate and he stared down at it, his mouth beginning to water at the scents, seeing eggs and bacon and toast. Each third section of the plate was steaming, the eggs, bacon and toast seemingly having come straight from being cooked.

A glass of water was placed at his feet before quiet footsteps withdrew.

Harry sat down across from Jax on his camp chair, watching as Jax looked over the food on the plate. Jax had sat down like a sack of potatoes, right on the camp chair that Harry had transfigured from a rock he had found. He could pick out drops of sweat on the man's forehead, scenting it more than seeing it. The biker's heartbeat was still fast but it was slowing down, easing out. And the scent, that of a wolf, was at its strongest right now, newly bitten and loud for a scent. Jax smelled like something wild, smelled like fur and predator, and not something to be messed with. "You don't have to eat all of that. Just eat what you like."

Jax looked up, those blue eyes of his bright and not exhausted and hazy with the Change, and then began to eat. Quiet and slow and then picking up speed. Harry smiled faintly and pulled over his own plate, murmured the spell to cancel the preservation charm he had put on the food and began to eat.

Harry waited until they were both done eating, both cleaned their plates before starting to talk. Jax ate everything on his plate, glancing up at him every other minute, inhaling on a deep breath. The sun rose up further on the horizon, marking it as around 10am, and Harry sighed, ran a hand through his still wet hair. His body was a bit shaky himself, exhausted from tending to Jax for two days. He'd taken a pepper up potion at the end of day one, just to stay awake. It'd been a while since he had pulled two all nighters in a row.

"So… the wolves who attacked you were not regular animals," Harry started, putting his plate down next to his feet. The trees around them moved in the slight breeze, cooling him off naturally.

"Yeah, no shit," Jax retorted, dropping his own plate down to the ground and glaring at him. "What the fuck do you mean by heal my kid?"

"I mean heal him. I don't care what's wrong with him," Harry offered, shrugging slightly. "You're a biker. You see things on the road?"

"Course I do. We all do. They're called roads and stop signs and traffic lights," Jax said, leering at him.

Harry snorted, a corner of his mouth turning up against his will. "Asshole. I mean things you can't explain."

"Like those wolves? They fuckin' attacked me and flipped my bike. Those weren't normal animals."

"Werewolves. It was the alpha who bit you, I think. Turned you."

Jax blinked at Harry and then reached out for the glass of water, taking a sip before setting it back down. "Are you high? There's no such thing."

Harry's nose wrinkled. "You believe in magic then?"

"Nope."

"You didn't have a childhood phase? I thought most kids believed in magic up until…" Harry trailed off at Jax's look.

"The only childhood phase I went through was stealing my dad's bike," Jax retorted, grinning at the memory. "And I joined the Sons. I'm not a kid anymore."

Harry's eyes were immediately drawn to the V. President patch on Jax's kutte. "I see that. I'm gonna have to pull out the big gun, aren't I?"

"Ahhh, do you still believe in Santa?"

Harry rolled his eyes and restrained himself from walking over there and pushing over Jax's chair, with him in it. Jax smirked at him, his eyes flickering with amusement.

"Fine." Harry held out his hand and willed Prongs into existence, no incantation needed now. The glowing silver buck leapt out of his fingers and stood between the two of them, big, broad and unavoidable.

Jax froze, his eyes going wide, his heart skipping several beats. His mouth opened and closed multiple times as he stared up at Prongs, watching as the big ass buck trotted around the clearing they were in. Prongs loped around the back of the tent once before coming back to stand between them, bowing its head down to look Jax in the eyes.

"Magic is real," Harry offered idly. "Werewolves are real."