Don't Think I'll Ever Get Over You

Prologue: August 2007

~.~

I've never written a Ross/Rachel story. Not once in my ten years here. It's been brought to my attention, by reviewers, that I don't so much like Ross. I've been asked to write a Ross/Rachel story many times in the past decade, I've just never felt passionate enough about them as a couple to be able to write them. And…there might be some truth in me not liking Ross as a character, ha.

But…"Just Don't Think I'll Ever Get Over You" by Colin Hay came on when I had my iPod on shuffle while I was running the other day, and this story popped into my head with it, and I just had to write it. It is Ross/Rachel. It is not going to turn into Randler, it is just Ross/Rachel. It's going to be slightly more Rachel-centric, but Ross will be in it, as will the other characters.

I can't believe I'm actually writing this, haha. Reviews would be very much appreciated for this one since I'm about to head into uncharted territory, since, not only have I never writtedn Ross/Rachel, I've never even read a Ross/Rachel fic. Ever.

Here we go….

~.~

Rachel squinted through the rain pelting down on the windshield of her rental car, still in disbelief that she was home for good. This, arriving at the airport to no one, and driving herself to her mom's house in the rain, wasn't exactly the homecoming welcome she had imagined when she found out there was an opening for an international buyer in, of all places, New York City. She had imagined her friends, or her mom, or maybe even Ross (though, after the past few years, most likely not Ross) awaiting her arrival. She imagined hugs and tears.

But, her flight was delayed leaving Paris, meaning she arrived in New York in the middle of the night on a Tuesday. Her middle of the night homecoming meant there had been no one to meet her at baggage claim, no one waiting with a car or a cab. No one was there, holding Emma's hand, waiting for her. There was just her, lugging her suitcases across the airport and renting a Ford Focus to drive out to her mom's house in the middle of the night in.

Emma was at her mom's house, though, and she hadn't seen Emma in three weeks, since she dropped her off with Ross and headed back to Paris to finish out her time there and pack up and move home.

Home.

Paris was not home.

It was beautiful and breathtaking. It was an adventure. It was meeting all kinds of people from all kinds of places and experiencing things she had never imagined. It was Emma being completely fluent in French and Rachel being pretty near fluent. Her position at work had entailed learning as much about business as fashion, and she had proven herself and her worth enough to deserve this promotion only three years later. Well, maybe promotion was the wrong word, since it wasn't that much of a step up, but she had proven herself enough to be able to ask for the transfer. Her three years in Paris were something she could never sum up in words or pictures.

Paris, however, had not once felt like home.

Her apartment there always felt like living in a hotel room, her time, more like a vacation from her real life. She had barely seen her friends and family, though there had been a few trips back and forth. Any kind of relationship she had with Ross was now a complete disaster. Her relationship with Ross aside, she felt bad for keeping Emma away from her father for so long. On nearly a daily basis, Emma asked when she was going to see Daddy again, and though Emma talked to Ross nearly daily and they would have Skype dates on a regular basis, Rachel felt bad Emma couldn't actually see him whenever she wanted to.

Rachel flicked on her turn signal, slowing down as she approached her mother's neighborhood. Maybe arriving home in the middle of the night wasn't such a bad thing. At least she had until morning to feel like she was really back, to process the past few years (and there was quite a bit to process). In the morning, they was going to her new apartment with Emma that Rachel had mostly moved into a couple of weeks earlier when she was back, and her mother had finished up the previous week. There was mediation later that week with Ross, as his insistence, to have an actual custody agreement in writing for Emma, something that broke Rachel's heart because she never thought she and Ross would get to that point. Honestly, she felt like he was doing it, at least a bit, out of spite and to hurt her because she had hurt him.

The rest of her week was packed with much happier things, though. Lunches with Phoebe and Monica, even lunch with her mom and sisters. Dinner at Monica and Chandler's on Saturday night, all six of them (and their families), at Monica's insistence, despite the tension she knew existed between Ross and Rachel. Meeting everyone at her new office (though she didn't officially start until the following week since she took the week off), Emma getting to go on a tour of the school she would be starting kindergarten at in a few weeks.

Pulling into her mother's driveway, Rachel took a deep breath. Packing up her apartment in Paris felt like a final step at the time, as did actually getting on the plane back home. But this, right here, stepping out of the car felt like the final step that ended her journey.

She was not good with endings.

Pulling her keys from the ignition, Rachel grabbed her purse, thankful it had finally stopped raining as she walked around to the trunk and pulled her suitcase out, heading for the front door with her key. She quietly unlocked the door, leaving her suitcase by the door and heading straight towards the room Emma had claimed as her own for her stays at grandma's long ago. Opening the door, she smiled at her daughter's face, illuminated by the pink nightlight in the corner. Tip-toeing across the room, leaving the door open a crack, she leaned down, kissing Emma's forehead, brushing her light brown hair from across her face. Emma stirred but didn't wake, Rachel walking around to the other side of the twin bed, crawling into bed beside her.

"Mommy?" the little girl's voice broke the silent stillness of the house, rolling over in bed to face Rachel.

"Yea, baby," Rachel whispered in reply.

"Are we home forever now?" Emma asked, curling up in her mother's arms.

Rachel smirked at that. Her five-year-old referred to New York, not the place they had been living for the past three years, as home. Probably because Rachel had never stopped referring to New York as "home," and whenever they were going there, she would refer to it as "going home."

That question, though, quelled any doubts Rachel had about this move.

"Yea, Ems, we're home forever now," she whispered, kissing the top of her head as she closed her eyes. "We're home."