"I'll take that for you, Mr. Atwood," the attendant at the gate offered. Ryan handed him the hard hat from his head.

"Thank you," Ryan replied, initialing "RA" and the time on the clipboard which hung from the wall. His cell phone rang. It was his boss. He picked up his briefcase and the building plans, then flipped open his phone. "Hello," he answered. A slight, warm breeze whipped across the collar of his crisp blue shirt as he crossed the street to his brand new Range Rover.

"Yeah, I'm just leaving the site now. Everything looks good. We're on schedule to meet our target date. Thank you." He snaps the phone shut. He's about to fumble with the keys in the door, when he sees a young boy sitting next to a pay phone. His bike is carelessly thrown down on the sidewalk.

Ryan breathes in, realizing this kid was him ten years ago. He remembers the day that Sandy came to his rescue. In fact, it was a day much like this one. He breathes out, considering his options.

"Hey kid," Ryan shouts. The boy looks up at him. His expression is vacant, sad, and distrusting. "Ya need help?" He makes eye contact and Ryan knows the answer to that question. The boy looks down at the cement he is sitting on, he notices its gray color and rough nature. He can't trust this guy, he can't trust anybody. But he's aware of Ryan's continued presence and looks up again. What is there to lose?

"Maybe," he replies. There is little enthusiasm behind his response. Ryan nods and walks over to him.

"I'm Ryan Atwood. Come on, you can stay with me for the night," he says, picking up the bike and walking it to the back of the Range Rover. The kid follows behind him and watches him place it inside. "Go ahead, get in," Ryan replies, motioning to the passenger door with his hand. He goes around to the drivers side, unlocks his door and then flips the switch for the others.

The drive home isn't too long, but it's long enough to have a conversation.

"So, what's your name?"

"Aaron," he replies. His gaze alternates between the road in front of him and the floor.

"Get thrown out?" Ryan can't imagine it was this hard for Sandy to get him to talk, but maybe it was. Aaron doesn't respond. "You can tell me, kid. I'm not gonna hurt you. I was in your shoes once."

"Yeah," Aaron responds. "I came home. My dad was drunk, and my mom was gone." His voice softer now. "He just got pissed and kicked me out. Said he didn't want to see me again." He looks down at the floor. "I didn't even do anything," he finishes.

"It's not your fault. Don't think of it that way," Ryan replies. He continues driving for a bit, then rounds the corner and pulls up into the driveway. He turns the ignition off, unbuckles his seat belt, and looks over at Aaron. Aaron looks up at him. "Come on, we'll get you a good dinner and you can watch TV or something. I'll call your parents in the morning. We'll get things straightened out."

He nods, "okay." Aaron walks up the large steps, following behind Mr. Atwood. It is a nice house.

"Taylor, honey?" Ryan's inquiry echoes a bit in the entryway.

"In the kitchen," she sings. The boys make their way into the kitchen, Aaron trailing by a significant amount. "Welcome home," she replies. He wraps his arms around her and places a few passionate kisses on her lips. "Taylor, I'd like you to meet Aaron. Aaron, this is my wife, Taylor." Aaron has just now made it into the kitchen, so Taylor is surprised to see that they are not alone.

"Well, hello," she smiles. He's a cute boy, even if he does look like he stepped out of 8 Mile. He reminds her of someone. Aaron manages a wave. "Ryan?" She has a puzzled look on her face.

"Aaron is going to stay with us for tonight. Is dinner going to be ready soon?"

"Ah, yes. Soon. Pot roast, asparagus, mashed potatoes and peach torte. Hope you're hungry." A smile widened across her face.

"Aaron, can I just talk to my wife alone for a minute? The TV is in there," he said, pointing to an adjoining doorway. "Dinner will be ready in a few minutes." Aaron nodded and left the room.

"Ryan, who is this kid?" The tone of Taylor's voice isn't anger, it's simply a question.

"Well, I was leaving the site and I saw him sitting all by himself next to a pay phone. You saw the kid, he's lost. I told him he could stay here tonight until I could talk to his parents in the morning."

"He does look pretty forlorn, but Ryan," she questioned.

"Taylor, before you freak out, he's no harm. I talked to him. This kid is me at fifteen, when Sandy took me in. I feel like I owe the world to do what I can for him after all that I got. Pay it forward."

"You know, I thought he reminded me of someone," she whispered against his lips. She kissed him gently. "Well, why not? You turned out pretty well. You're a good man, Ryan Atwood. He's welcome to stay. Just don't go bringing home every stray kid, okay?"

"I love you, Taylor. You won't regret this." He hugged her again and smiled. She was wonderful, supportive, the most beautiful woman in the world. Most of all, she was his wife. He was so thankful for that. He knew he'd be so different without her.

"Ten minutes until dinner is ready," she added. Ryan waved his hand as he hopped down the few steps and entered the family room.

Taylor smiled and pulled the peach torte out of the oven. Never a dull moment, she thought.

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AN: I own nothing. I just love these characters. I struggled with whether I was going to refer to Ryan as Ryan Atwood or Ryan Cohen, and after initially putting it up as Cohen (to emphasize the full circle idea), I have re-uploaded this version, which references him as Ryan Atwood.

I was not planning to continue, but due to overwhelming response, it seems like I will have to. If anyone is interested in being a beta for me, or has any ideas for where they would like to see this go, please email me or send me a message on ff. Thanks for reading!