On the roof, Jac and Fletch sat on the edge of the building, looking out over the city lights.

"Quite a day," Fletch said. "Unforgettable."

"You could say that." Jac was being customarily tight-lipped about the whole thing, her tail neatly curled around her body. Their hands were very close, not quite touching.

"I mean, seeing you..."

"Don't."

Fletch took a deep breath. "I wasn't going to mention seeing you in the buff. I mean, that was unforgettable but..."

"Do you want to take the stairs down or shall I give you a push?"

"I meant you sniffing Hanssen's bollocks. That was definitely a highlight."

Jac looked at him. "You're never going to mention that again," she said evenly.

"I've never seen a bloke go as white as he did." He grinned widely. "Fuck me, that was the funniest thing ever."

"Hilarious. I'm sure he feels the same."

"Doubt it. He tried to mate with Roxanna then snogged Gaskell on national telly."

They were silent for a few moments.

Jac snorted with laughter first, laughing so hard she fell on her back on the roof, helpless, tail thumping madly. Fletch joined her, giggling and gazing up at the stars. As their fingers brushed together, he slipped his hand in hers. She didn't notice at first, but when she did, she did not move away.

As the laughter ceased, they just lay there, hand in hand.

"So what now?" Fletch asked.

"We go home, hug the kids and be glad we're not baboons."

"Right."

More silence.

"Is that, you go home and I go home and we both carry on as normal tomorrow? Or we go get Emma, and then you both come back to mine?"

Jac shook her head. "Why do you always have to complicate things?"

Fletch hesitated. "I'm not. I just ..."

"We go back, get Emma. Steven can meet us with yours at Pizza Express. Then he takes them home and you come back to mine. Simple."

Fletch paused. "Right. So that means..."

Jac looked impatiently at him. "Yes, Fletch. What ever you think it means, that's what I mean."

His hand tightened around hers. "So can I officially say, my girlfriend is a dog?"

Roxanna was curled comfortably on the bed, snoozing. Henrik's leg draped over hers as he spooned around her. They were both exhausted, a faint sheen of perspiration on their bodies from their exertions. He stirred and buried his face in her neck, inhaling her delicious fragrance, then felt more stirring further down his body.

Not again.

The scientists had said the antidote had eradicated all the lion cells from his and Roxanna's bodies, but he knew for sure they had both changed irrevocably.

After all, it made no sense they had barely been out of the bedroom since arriving back at Roxanna's house. All they had done was eat, have sex and sleep.

Not that he was complaining. It was just rather out of character for both of them.

Now he was aware of another strange sensation, coupled with a meaty purring close to his ear.

Cleo, Roxanna's aloof, enormous and indulged Maine Coon cat, was sitting on his shoulder, paddling his skin with her front paws.

Usually they ignored each other with mutual distain, but now she was positively loving on him, rubbing his ear with stiff whiskers, then licking at him.

"Grrrrrr!" He lifted his head and growled, but the cat was not easily thwarted. Instead, she jumped down and settled in the hollow of Henrik's stomach, her claws unnervingly close to his groin. The purring continued and the message was clear. She wanted in on their loving cuddles.

The presence of Cleo put paid to any amorous intentions Henrik might have had towards Roxanna. Cleo shifted again and draped herself over both of their bodies, almost as if claiming them.

Resigned, Henrik relaxed back against the pillows, idly stroking the cat, luxuriating in Roxanna's warmth. There was an empty space on the other side of him where John should have been. One day he would talk to Roxanna, and maybe they would see if they could track him down.

Until then, this was his life now, and he was happy.

John Gaskell stood on the prow of the container ship bound for the Far East, with Jupiter lighting their path. It was easy to stow away on board, surviving on a diet of rats, keeping out of sight of the ship's crew. He had one small case with him, containing a change of clothes and his notebook with the formulas for the shapeshifting potion, the antidote, plus a tiny vial of the original potion. In China he would be met by a representative of the Weng Corporation, a shadowy organisation who had long expressed an interest in him and his work. And if that didn't work out, there were always the Russians...

Nothing but the work...

Yet as the ship cruised slowly away from the West, he had left behind a part of him he could never get back. Henrik and Roxanna, the only family he had ever known, the only people he had ever loved. All he had was a fading memory of a kiss, and the hope, however tiny, that Henrik Hanssen would want to track him down, and continue the work he once believed in. One kiss, maybe two.

There was always hope.

Voices warned him the crew were strolling the decks. He slipped into his serpent form and slithered back into the bowels of the vessel, to wait for journey's end.