Author: Patrick

Title: Westerly Winds

AN: So this is the first time I've updated this story in 5 years. I'm not sure why the impulse hit me to pick this up again, or if it's going to stay around long enough for me to get it finished. To all the reviewers who have urged me to finish: I'm sorry that I've let you down for so long. The good news is that I think I actually know how I want this to end now and that's more than I had 5 years ago. To all the people who've left feedback: Thank you so much for your thoughts and contributions. And to everyone: Thanks for reading.

Chapter Six

Ross reclined in the weatherworn beach chair. The movement elicited a creak from the chair's old and overburdened aluminum frame, but its occupant was too preoccupied to notice.

For Ross, the last few days (and last few hours, in particular) had been such an emotional roller coaster – from contempt towards his erstwhile lover for concealing her visit, to bitter acceptance that she didn't want to see him, to slack-jawed shock that the whole thing was a surprise for him gone awry, and, instants later, to elation in the embraces of the two women he loved more than any other in the world - that he still felt dizzy and was waiting for the other proverbial foot to drop. Thing was, it hadn't.

"She's so… amazing," Ross said adoringly as he watched his daughter trample over a mound of sand that her "aunt" Phoebe had helped her construct a few moments prior. That'd been his first thought since he'd been made aware of her surprise visit a few hours prior and that thought had continued to reverberate ever since. Ross let his focus widen briefly to take in the entirety of the moment. He noted the gentle drone of the waves, the sparkle of the sun-dappled sea, and the softness of the endlessly undulating expanse of sand that engulfed him and his party. Could moments be more perfect than this? To say Ross wasn't a gambler would be an understatement, but he'd have put his money on "No" in a heartbeat.

And if there were any lingering doubts, a quick gaze at the figure to his left eliminated them entirely.

Rachel sat next to Ross, occupying the other half of the pair of old beach chairs that Phoebe's birth mom had lent them for the occasion.

"Yeah…" Rachel concurred, trailing off as she realized that, for once, there was nothing else that needed to be said. For a moment, they just looked at each other, both smiling freely. As their eyes passed back to the scene in front of them, Ross felt his fingers reach out to encircle Rachel's. The air between them seemed to move a little more slowly for a moment, but Ross was tremendously relieved when she didn't pull away. He also noted that he wasn't worried about what the gesture meant, or what it would lead to. It felt good and instinctual and that was all that mattered. A moment later, Emma tottered up to them, grinning bashfully. She seemed unaware of her parents' small display of affection.

"I knocked down the castle," the child boasted.

Ross smiled and nodded approvingly, then said, "Guess what else is about to get knocked down?"

Emma clasped her hands together, eagerly awaiting the answer.

"What?" she asked, her smile growing wider.

Ross lunged out of his chair and playfully wrestled his daughter to the ground. She giggled all the way down and her flailing limbs sent clumps of sand in every direction. After a few more playful moments, they returned to their feet and Ross, for the tenth time today, brushed some sand off of Emma's small frame.

"I wanna show you something, Daddy" Emma informed her father, tugging at his sleeve. She was already half-moving towards her destination and her outstretched hand beckoned Ross to follow. He took it obligingly. As they padded down the beach together towards Emma's pile of shells, Ross spared a quick backwards glance at Rachel. She caught his gaze and returned it with a smile.

While she welcomed the tranquility that seemed to suffuse every aspect of their afternoon on the beach, Rachel knew that it was only temporary. She'd give Ross ample time to reunite and catch up with his daughter, and let her friends with whom she'd collaborated to bring her surprise visit to fruition bask in their moment of victory for a little while before she revealed the real reason for her visit.

Rachel was also eager to experience the dynamic of her sextet of friends now that a little over a year had gone by since she left. Part of her decision (albeit a small part) to move to Paris had been predicated on the loss of the quasi-familial niche created by her closest friends into which she had fit so snugly for a decade. Starting from scratch in Paris, Rachel had learned about herself that she was able to carve out a new niche if she so chose. It was scary at first, but greatly empowering in the end. She wondered if the others had been similarly successful as they followed their separate paths.

Rachel rolled her eyes behind the lenses of her Coco Chanel sunglasses when she realized that Emma's show-and-tell exposition of her haul of seashells had turned into a lecturing opportunity for Dad. But while Rachel had always found that she was always thoroughly bored by geology (even though she could appreciate Ross's passion where the subject was concerned), Emma seemed to be hanging on every word. And while Rachel sometimes felt concerned by the thought of Emma following in Ross's academic footsteps, her pragmatic side knew well that, were her life to turn out thusly, it would ultimately be far more of a blessing than a curse.

After ten minutes of listening to Professor Dad, Emma's head started to sag and her eyelids grew discernibly heavier. Maybe we're alike after all,Rachel thought to herself with a chuckle. Ross noticed his daughter's weariness and scooper her up, resting her head against his shoulder.

"Must be bedtime in Paris," Ross said as he trekked up the sand towards their campsite. Emma's eyes were already closed.

Ross stood in place stroking Emma's back evenly with his hand for a minute before asking, "You ready to go?"

"Yeah," Rachel said, standing up and adjusting her wide-brimmed hat. It wasbedtime in Paris. Adrenaline and excitement were probably the only reasons her deportment wasn't closer to that of her daughter's, and neither of those factors would last much longer.

Rachel flagged down Phoebe, who'd wandered a hundred yards or so down the beach, and they rounded up their small amount of gear and headed for the car. As they prepared to leave the sand, something occurred to Ross.

"Where…and how… arewe going?" he asked, remembering that he'd come to Montauk with Phoebe in her cab.

"Emma and I are riding in the rental," said Rachel. A few minutes after she'd executed her surprise self-unveiling, Ross had discovered that Rachel had rented a 4-door coupe for her visit.

"You're welcome to join us, unless you'd rather ride with Phoebe in the cab," Rachel said, placing emphasis on the denotation of Phoebe's vehicle. She smiled devilishly. Ross cringed.

"I'd love to join you," he replied before adding, "If you're tired, I can drive."

Rachel thought about Ross's offer for a moment before tossing him the keys.

Ross secured Emma in her car seat, and he and Rachel hugged Phoebe, thanked her multiple times, and assured her that they'd see her again within a few days.

As Rachel settled into the passenger seat, Ross glanced towards the shoreline one last time and smiled, shaking his head slightly, disbelief still lurking in his mind. When descended into the driver's seat, Rachel was already closing her eyes.

"Where to?" he asked. He'd found out that Rachel had stayed with Phoebe prior to today, but didn't know if that was to continue. His car was still in the city too. He'd have to pick that up sooner or later, but, at the moment, he didn't care which. Rachel inclined her head towards him and looked him in the eye.

"Home," she said, simply.

And that was all he needed to hear.