An Ocean Ahead
By: Caity

A/N: This is wicked random, but I always seem to get back into the groove of things with an out-of-the-blue one-shot. I'm bored, and its nearly 2am, so I was going through some fics I haven't read in a while. And it struck me how so many have such a happily-ever-after feel with Ross and Rachel after the finale. But I then looked at some fics by Richard Lawson, definitely in my top 3 favorite Friends authors on this site, and I've always loved his take on things. He seemed to be on the same mindset as I am; well, okay, she got off the plane. That doesn't mean everything is fixed and perfect. I've always wanted to do a post-finale fic that was along those lines.

I go off on a lot of tangents in this fic (if you haven't noticed, I'm absolutely obsessed with TOW Rachel's Going Away Party, so much that I somehow worked a huge chunk about it into this fic, which I then cut down, but it remains pretty prominent), and I'd say it may be a bit underdeveloped. But this is how I'd like to think of Ross and Rachel in their life after the show ended. Its why we love them, isnt it? Because they're so outwardly not perfect that, somehow, they become perfect.

And now I've gone on another long, unnecessary tangent. I'd love it if you could leave me a quick review so I can see where I'm at, and hopefully I'll get out of the corners I've written myself into in my other fics and have some new stuff for you guys :-) Thanks for sticking around.

"Yes, yes, everything's in order. Can I talk to you when I come in tomorrow? . . . Alright, have a good night."

Rachel trudged up the steps in the apartment complex, armed with a briefcase in one hand and a cell phone in the other. A bead of sweat wound its way down her head as she cursed the stairs under her breath. Even though she had been more than used to the stairs when she lived across the street, the endless cases here seemed to tire her out more everyday she stepped onto them.

It still wasn't nearly as familiar as her old home. However, something about the halls in this place gave her a sense of comfort. As she neared the gold door of her newest home, she could already hear her baby girl from behind the door.

"Hi, sweetie," she let out, smiling at her daughter as she opened the door. "Mommy's home."

Little Emma, nearly two and a half years old, bounded off the couch and into Rachel's arms.

"Mommy, I watch a movie with Nicki!", she cooed in her small voice. Rachel picked her up, balancing her on one hip as she paid the babysitter. Once the young woman had left, Emma was placed back on the couch so Rachel could change out of her work clothes.

The work thing was still a bit new. After turning down Paris, Rachel had taken some well-needed time off to spend with Emma. She knew how restless she had become after only a few short weeks, but it was definitely time well spent, as her little family bonded more now that they were complete. Well, as complete as they could be in the moment.

"I'm home," she heard Ross call from the front room. A corner of her mouth lifted, as she imagined him immediately jumping into play with their daughter. At first, it had hurt to see how eager Ross was to interact with Emma every minute, knowing she had moved them across the street, and nearly across the ocean. But now, she loved watching them together. It was quite amazing to know that he was so invested in this family, so hard-working to keep them strong.

As she finished slipping into a pair of pajama pants for the evening, she heard Ross flip the channel to Emma's favorite cartoon as he then slipped through their bedroom door.

"Hey, you," he greeted, and she felt warmth in the pit of her stomach. Hearing him say those words, however simple they may be, always had such an effect on her. It was something that had always been theirs.

"Hey," she answered, meeting him halfway through the room in a light kiss. "How was work?"

"Can you believe five kids dropped my class? I swear, paleontology is taking a major hit this year. How about you?"

"They've been calling me constantly at Coach," she complained. "I mean, I've just started there, and they're already expecting me to do all this work at home, and work late nights, and weekends. Its like they don't think I'm secure in the position they gave me."

"Wait," he called out, looking up from his task of filing some papers he needed to grade. "Late nights, weekends? When did this happen?"

She groaned.

"I told you when I applied for this job that it would probably go overtime for now," she told him, a bit perturbed. She left the room to tend to Emma, bringing her into the kitchen and settling her into her highchair for dinner.

"But Rachel," she heard him rebut, following behind her with a bag of take-out. "Nicki can't stay past five, and my last class doesn't get out until then. Not to mention, we have that big dinner at Monica and Chandler's on Saturday."

"I didn't say it was now." She was aware that her voice was raising as she pulled out some plates for them, setting them on the table. Ross shot her a doubtful look, and she hated the way he could see right through her sometimes. Sighing, she sat down across the table from him, feeding Emma a spoonful of peas. "Okay, there's a big chance it might be tomorrow."

Ross sighed heavily, obviously overdoing his frustration so Rachel would notice.

"Okay, you do not need theatrics to tell me something, Ross. Look, is there any way you can get a sub for your last class tomorrow?"

"No, Rachel! They all have papers due, and there's a very important lecture I have to give. I can't redo my whole schedule right now."

"Can you please compromise with me here? I want these people to like me! I want to get a good sense of this job, and figure out what I'm doing."

"Well, can you do that in the time you're there?"

"No, Ross, I can't," she stated firmly. Silence fell around the table, minus a small amount of noise coming from Emma. Rachel continued to feed the toddler, being careful to avoid looking directly at Ross, even though she could feel his eyes on her. She knew if she looked at them, she would only be met with anger and annoyance right now.

This wasn't exactly a shocking occurrence. Ross hadn't been the happiest person when he learned that Rachel wanted to work full-time again, and Emma would be with a nanny all day. But Rachel insisted that she needed a job. It wasn't that she didn't love spending time with Emma, because she did. But she needed to break out of the house-mom mode, keeping the house all day while Ross brought home the bacon. It was their life, and she felt she needed to contribute to it.

Tensions rose every time her new work was discussed, even though she had gone only a few hours a day at first. But now, she was fully into her position at the Coach offices, and her bosses wanted her to learn more tricks of the trade. She knew extra hours would inevitably be needed, but rarely stressed them in front of Ross to put off arguments like these.

Silently, they finished their meal, Ross cleaning up the dishes when they were finished. Rachel simply kept to her spot at the table, watching her daughter play with the leftover Cheerios in front of her until she became sleepy.

"Look at you two," she heard Ross say across the room. "Look at how interesting it is just to watch her, Rachel. Why do you need to work when you have this at home?"

This was one comment too many, and Rachel was beginning to feel trapped. Why was her independence still an issue with him, even after all these years?

"That's enough, Ross," she spat, trying not to yell for Emma's sake but finding it hard. "I'm sorry that its so hard for you that I have my own job, and my own life away from you. But that's how it was before, and that's how it is now. Either grow up and accept it, or tell me that I've been wasting my time the past nine years." She took a deep breath, looked away from his pained expression, and took Emma in her arms. "I'm putting her down for the night."

Rachel carried her into her bedroom, the walls a pale lilac with yellow stars near the ceiling. She placed Emma in her crib, watching as she fussed around with her circus mobile before settling down.

"Goodnight, baby girl," she whispered, placing a kiss on her forehead before leaving the room. Although she wasn't watching him, she heard Ross sneak by her and offer his own goodnight.

Rachel went to hide in their bedroom for a little while, flipping the TV onto a random channel that she barely paid attention to. Instead, she looked around the room, remembering a night about a year ago when she'd stumbled in here with Ross, glossy-eyed, panting, and confused.

It was a night she thought about often, though her and Ross didn't discuss it frequently. With them, the big story seemed to be her leaving the plane. But she had always held the night before closer to her heart, because to her, it defined who they were.

Thoughts of Ross not being there for her or their daughter every day were too overwhelming for her. She avoided them, and avoided a goodbye, hoping that things would be implicit. Only she found out ignoring it was further paining Ross, and it was a turning point where things had changed. Her insecurities about leaving him behind, and her intense care for him that she wouldn't even admit to herself had come pouring out. Neither of them quite knew what was going on, or why, but something was driving them together that night. Before she knew it, she was waking up next to him early the next morning, buried naked under the covers, her head at the foot of the bed. And then, well, everyone close to them knew what ended up happening the next day.

To her, that perfectly described their relationship. The ups and downs of an ever-flowing tide; sometimes lapping peacefully up the shoreline, sometimes crashing into violent waves. Even though the ocean was a bit more controlled now, they still crashed over the rocks every once in a while.

That was Ross and Rachel. She knew it, she knew that they would always be that way. Nothing had a fairy tale ending, in her book, no matter what she thought in her lovesick twenties. She didn't want everything tied up in a bow when she walked off that plane. She wanted this; a real relationship, something they worked hard at, that wasn't easy even though they loved each other. This had been what she'd always looked forward to with Ross, that little voice in the back of her head that had always whispered that they'd be on again. Again.

She'd finally calmed down. Laying back on the bed with her eyes closed, she tried to dispel her anger. But she still felt worried that her new job could be a big bump in the road.

"Can I come in?"

She looked up at the sound of his voice, to see his head poking through the door. Switching off the TV, she nodded, sliding over to make room for him. He took his place next to her, ready to have a full-blown discussion about working out her job, when she simply buried her face in his chest and hugged him. He was taken by surprise, knowing that Rachel usually had no problem asserting her opinions.

"I don't care right now," she said softly, her voice muffled into his shirt. "Just lay here with me."

So he did, settling back and holding her against his chest. The only noise was their breathing, even and in time with one another. Her eyes were shut as she breathed in a scent that was undeniably Ross. His hand was stroking her bare back beneath her shirt as her finger wove spirals around his chest.

After a few prolonged moments of soaking up his presence, he broke the silence.

"I called Phoebe. She can watch Emma tomorrow so you can work late."

Tears filled her eyes, unexpected even to her. She lifted her head from his chest, staring gratefully into his eyes. He'd learned so much in the time they'd known each other. They both had. She slid up his body to reach his lips, playing with them softly before pressing her forehead against his.

"Thank you," she whispered. He simply nodded.

He pulled the comforter out from beneath them, burrowing them in warmth as he cuddled her closer. She pulled him into another lazy kiss, one of her hands playing with his hair and the other laying on his skin under his t-shirt. She took it slowly, waiting a few moments to even open her mouth enough for him, letting the moment wash over them like molasses.

"I love you, you know," he whispered against her ear between kisses.

"I do know," she assured him. "Me too."

And she knew that, for now, that was enough. The tide had settled for the night, and she relaxed into the comfortable lull.