Cassadine Jet.

Puerto Rico left Nikolas shaken. It was the first indication that he might not have complete control over every aspect of his plan.

It took a few days to find Javier Rivera. And then a few days more to get Rivera to speak to him. When he finally consented to speak to Nikolas, Javier Rivera had been very interested in what Nikolas had to say, and Rivera said he was onboard. But. During the whole week Nikolas was there, there were looks exchanged and whispered conversations he'd come upon that had suddenly stopped with his presence.

Uncle Rudy had been almost genteel. Of course, Uncle Rudy had a vested interest in carrying out Nikolas' plan exactly as was intended: Claudia's life was at stake. Javier Rivera didn't care about anyone but the Riveras.

Nikolas had also realized something. There was no Mob. There were dozens of mobs, in different locations, with different etiquettes and different Codes. It wasn't enough to speak the language. You had to be able to read them. And Nikolas couldn't. He would bet his island in Greece that Claudia knew how, but that road was closed to his plan.

There was one thing, however, which both factions Nikolas had met with had in common: no one felt that Sonny Corinthos had earned what he taken from them.

************************************************

GreyStone. Nursery.

The crib was so pretty no one noticed the extra three inches that had been added to the base. It looked like part of the design.

And the changing table had four boxes of diapers. Well, three. One was empty.

The crowning achievement was due to arrive on Monday. She didn't know if it was the Greek in Sonny or the Greek in Nikolas that cracked her up more, but that rocking horse with the empty belly and trap door hidden under the saddle was hilariously Trojan.

Maybe the nursery would give Sonny a little jolt every time he looked in on it. Hopefully he was human enough to feel a little guilt every time he looked in to see his wife decorating a nursery she wouldn't live to see her child inhabit. Enjoy it, Sonny. Just like you're making me "enjoy" that photo of Spencer you put out next to the ones of your children.

At least now she knew that Spinelli had been told to spy on her. Poor Spinelli. The price he was going to pay for working for the Corinthos organization was completely out of proportion to the "crime" of telling Sonny about her reaction to a picture.

Once the crib had arrived, Johnny had handed off a portable hard drive and software to her. During her next work session with Spinelli, she'd stuck Ex-Lax in his soup. It gave her the 20 minutes needed to clone Spinelli's computer. And a little time to explore. Nikolas was being tracked. Nice of him to let her know he was out of the country. Puerto Rico. She really was going to kill him. Luckily, the flight pattern report had come in while Spinelli was in the bathroom. A few keystroke commands and it now looked like Nikolas had gone to Cuba.

The software John had given her was in her gym bag. It would be tossed as soon as she reached the ladies' locker room. The hard drive -- well, Claudia now placed the hard drive and a pillow for padding into the three inch cavity in the base the crib and swung the hidden opening shut.

So no, Claudia would never get to see her baby inhabit this nursery. But she felt no guilt at all about watching a clueless Sonny look in on the room, unaware that she was filling it up with little instruments of his destruction.

************************************************

Elizabeth's House.

"How do you expect the two of us to eat all of this?"

"I don't. You have kids, don't you? Unless..."

"What?"

"You rented them. For sympathy. Hard-working, single mom -- I can see where that would give you cred when it came time for raises."

"You're right. And I just now figured out that two girls would have been better choices. So I'm waiting for them to be delivered and hoping no one notices the change."

Matt plopped two bags of breakfast bagels, fixings and pastries on the kitchen table.

Liz looked through the first bag. She picked out a cherry turnover. "I think the girls will like this. What do you think of the names Cameron and Julie for girls?"

"I think it would be awkward if the two Camerons ever met."

"The boys are at Lucky's."

"Ah."

Liz began to unpack the food and set out a reasonable amount on serving plates.

"Is this weird? For Lucky? Not that anything's going on with us. Or with Lucky. But..."

"It's okay," Liz said. "For the record, Lucky and I are very good exes who sometimes teeter on a relationship. And I don't know what's going on with me and him or me and you."

"Good," Matt said.

Liz raised her eyebrows.

"Not that it's good to be unsure forever, but it gives us wiggle room. Right?," he said.

"If you say so."

Matt shot her a look. "I'll set the table." Matt looked around the kitchen, confused.

"Middle drawer to the right of the sink."

Matt went over and started to pick out utensils.

This was nice, Liz thought. It wasn't like Lucky, where she wondered half the time if they spent time together because it was so comfortable or because they had such an extraordinary past together. Or like Jason, where they couldn't spend time together (and when they could spend time together, no one else could know). Matt was uncomplicated. For now. Although he was terrible at setting the table, she was just finding out.

She liked his sarcasm. It was always friendly, like he was inviting you in on the joke with him, instead of challenging you. And his arrogance gave her plenty of opportunities to pick on him to her heart's content. He always took it well -- either laughed, or good-naturedly exaggerated his flaws until you couldn't help laughing.

As far as she could tell, he didn't cheat or do drugs, he didn't kill people for a living (no matter what Diane Miller said), and he didn't have anyone chained up in a safe room. Not that she wasn't blameless in what had gone wrong in the past for her, and of course any relationship in Port Charles (friendship or otherwise) seemed to develop its own set of horrors as it went on, but this was so good right now. And it was good while he was experiencing something terrible like the lawsuit. Which was a good sign.

"What are you smiling at?," Matt asked.

"Spoons go on the other side. No wonder the nurses set out the surgical tools."

Matt laughed, and purposefully started putting everything in the wrong place. Dishes upside down. Cups on their side. Liz's place was soon set up with all spoons. Matt's was all forks.

Elizabeth laughed.

He liked that laugh. This was what Port Charles should have been like from the beginning. Not that he minded having a family or getting his life mixed up with Patrick's (and visa versa). But you were kinda stuck with your family. They had to like you. They had to let you in. It was great having someone who he knew was there because she liked him with no strings, who was there because she wanted to be. Especially Liz. How could one person be so compassionate, and then biting in a way that didn't hurt? Sometimes she didn't even have to say anything, just a little look and the two of them were cracking up.

Now if he could just get her over to his place. Just once. Not necessarily for anything other than dinner. She seemed to be avoiding Harborview Towers. At first, he thought maybe he was scaring her off by being such a bachelor. Maybe she thought mold was growing in his shower or something. But she'd insisted that wasn't it. He'd assured her that all he was inviting her over for was dinner, but that didn't seem to put a dent in her resolve. The only neighbor he had who she might have remotely known was the Jason Morgan guy, but it looked like she barely knew him, so it wasn't like she was avoiding someone else in the building.

Maybe she was scared of having this turn into something more. From little things she'd said, he knew she'd been burnt pretty badly before. He was willing to wait. Liz was worth it.

************************************************

Wyndemere.

Nikolas was right. Spencer wasn't a baby anymore. Sam didn't know when it had happened, but he was now officially a full-blown person. Who was multi-lingual, apparently. His favorite language was Italian. And if Sam had any doubts about how that had happened, they vanished when a postcard arrived in the mail for Spencer from Claudia.

It looked like Spencer was familiar with these postcards. As soon as it was in his eyeline, Spencer began running toward and reaching for it.

Sam handed it to him. "Who's that from, Spencer?"

"Claudee." He handed the card back to Sam. "Read."

He certainly had that arrogant, demanding prince attitude down. Sam eyed the postmark. New York City. Right. Like Claudia had been able to get to New York without anyone noticing.

"Read."

"'Ciao, Mr. Since.' Mr. Since?"

"Me! Prinderella slopped her dripper."

Whatever that meant. "'Gyra, Gyra --"

"Gira, Gira," Spencer sang, turning around twice. He looked at Sam expectantly.

"I don't know that song, Spencer. Maybe we can do a round of The Banana Boat Song later."

"Read."

"Please."

"Read please."

"'How much did you grow today?'"

Spencer held his hands high above his head, stretching to beyond his full height.

"'I did not grow at all. I am still doing boring grown-up things. And I'm sorry I can't come home and see you yet.'"

Spencer's face fell.

"'But I'm counting on you to get in the right kind of trouble today. Did you have a sword fight?' Sword fight?"

Spencer nodded. "Read please."

"'I miss my Little Prince every day. I hope you're taking care of your daddy and making sure he behaves. Keep growing.' I can't read this part, it's in another alphabet. Maybe Aunt Alexis can read it to you when she gets home. And then she says, 'With love from Il tuo amico e collega pirata...'" Sam looked at Spencer to make sure she was getting it right.

"Pirata amico," he explained patiently. "Pirate friend."

"Oh. And here she signs her name. See? 'Claudia.'"

Spencer reached for the postcard and took it from Sam. "Mine." He toddled over to his toy chest and put the postcard inside.

************************************************

Johnny's Garage.

Johnny was replacing the Jaguar's tire when Claudia entered carrying her gym bag.

"Hey," said Johnny, glancing up and then continuing to work.

"Hey. What did I tell you about going under the car?"

"I'm not going under a car every time someone visits my place of business."

"Fine. Don't blame me when you're dead. Why do you still have Nikolas' car?"

"It took awhile to get his tires in stock. Nikolas and his car are both high maintenance."

"You won't have to worry about that for much longer. Because I'm going to kill Nikolas."

"Great. One less job for me to do."

"Did you know he went out of the country?"

Johnny was silent.

"You knew?"

"All I know is that he wasn't in Russia. He was safe. Spencer wasn't with him. That was what I was supposed to tell you if you noticed that he was gone."

Claudia glared at Johnny.

"What?," he asked.

"I just want to make sure I understand this."

"Understand what?"

"You don't like Nikolas. You want to kill him yourself. I am your only family. I have saved your neck on more than one occasion. And somehow Nikolas asks you to keep something from me and you do?"

"Okay. First of all, I do like Nikolas. Except when he's with you. I don't want to kill him. Except when he's messing with you. And yes, you are my only family. But for every time you have saved my neck, you have also put a noose around it. Because you can't help running toward trouble when you hear about it. So yes, I kept something from you."

Claudia opened the gym bag, took out a duffle bag, and threw the duffle bag at Johnny.

"What's this?"

"That is my labor bag."

"Your what?"

"The bag that comes with me to the hospital when I go into labor."

"And I have it because..."

"Because the bag I'll be carrying will be full of other things. And I'll need the real labor bag. So you'll bring it."

"Okay."

"Don't forget it."

"Okay."

"Because it will be very awkward explaining to Sonny exactly why nothing I need for labor is in the labor bag. And it will be even more awkward explaining away the things that will be in the bag I'm bringing to the hospital."

"What will be in the bag you're bringing to the hospital?"

"You know what? I should keep that from you. Because you run toward trouble too. But there's a list in the bag that should give you a clue. It'd be great if you could have some of those items ready for me the next time I visit." She made her way back to the door, stopped, and turned to Johnny one last time. "When Nikolas comes to pick up his car, tell him he didn't go to Puerto Rico, he went to Cuba. Because that's where Spinelli's computer now says he went."

She left, slamming the door.

***********************************************

GreyStone. Nursery.

This house was too big for one man. Sonny had bought it so that his whole family could live here comfortably. The house never changed. The definition of "Sonny's family" did.

After Mike had left him as a kid, Sonny had promised himself that he'd never leave his own family. It turned out they could leave him. For a guy with so many kids, it was amazing how none of them had completed a childhood living under the same roof as him. Some of them had never lived under his roof at all.

This child would be different. This was the only child who would be completely his. There would be no mother around to rip this son from his arms, to keep this son away from him. This child would have no doubts about how much his father loved and wanted him.

Claudia was putting so much detail into the nursery that the renovations were painful to watch. She knew what was coming. She was resigned to it. So why was she putting herself through this? Maybe it was her way of getting through the last few months. Maybe it was her way of leaving something behind for her child.

Sonny sat down in the rocking chair. He thought of Alexis. Ric. Spinelli. Even Nikolas. Every adult he knew who had lacked a mother as a child had been marked by it. That wasn't something that anyone could compensate for, no matter how much their father loved them.

His guilt was assuaged by the fact that this had all started because she had tried to kill him. And had robbed Michael of a year of life. And more.

What did she expect? She knew what the rules were about children. It took a lot for someone to be the dark version of Sonny. She was it. He had no choice.

Nikolas could be a problem. What were they doing together? Aside from the obvious. Something told Sonny that that had to be figured out before the baby was born.

**********************************************

Johnny's Garage.

Unbelievable. Nikolas had been away for a week, and Johnny still had that same smirk on his face. Nikolas checked out the tire.

"Well, you got the tire right, but something tells me that's not why you've got that smug look on your face."

"You're in trouble."

"What do you mean?"

"'When Nikolas comes to pick up his car, tell him he didn't go to Puerto Rico, he went to Cuba. Because that's what I changed Spinelli's computer to say.'"

"Am I meant to find your impression of your sister amusing?"

"I guess you had to be here for the whole routine. Down to the door slam. She really wants to kill you. How did your trip go?"

"I won't know for awhile."

Johnny nodded. "Puerto Rico was Sonny's before we were in the picture. I would expect them to be a hard sell for anything Zacchara. Or Cassadine." Johnny went to the window and looked out.

"She said Damian Spinelli had my flight plans on his computer?"

"She didn't give me the finer points, but that's a good guess. And I think we'd better stop meeting like this. You're being tailed."

"She told you that?"

"No, you can see the guy from here."

Nikolas stood stock still. "One of Sonny's men?"

"I don't think so. He's not well-dressed enough for it."

"Step away from the window, Johnny." Nikolas took out his cell phone, and dialed. The call connected. "It's me. I'm back. I have a problem," he said.

************************************************

Port Charles docks.

Phil leaned against the bench. This was going to be another long night. No doubt Cassadine was on his island (The man had his own island. How do you keep track of someone like that?) for the rest of the day and night. Sonny had better have made his bones doing detail work like this.

Phil searched his pockets for a cigarette. He didn't hear anyone come up behind him. He didn't hear the gun get raised and aimed. And he didn't know he was being pistol-whipped until right before he lost consciousness.

"Take him to the Island. Put him in the basement. Then we can find out why my step-grandma sent him," Sam said.