24, 25, Still a Child

He was fourteen when they left him, because he was thinking more or girls and sex then toys and children's baubles. He didn't notice they were gone for two whole days.

When he did, it was too late anyways.

Juandissimo is with Remy when he is twenty. The patroller has come for him, time and time again, but Juandissimo keeps insisting that Remy is no more than a child. He can afford to be no more than a child – and since he is sheltered and secluded from the rest of the world, he doesn't know about drugs or sex or violence. All he knows is that there is a mismatched boy in his dreams with too-large teeth and an easy laugh.

And he wants him for himself.

The world doesn't treat the poor very well. Timmy Turner is twenty two and working at Nasty Burger with Chester and AJ. Well, kind of. Chester is a fry cook, and AJ owns the restaurant. But they all stayed together, and that's what really matters.

Sometimes he dreams of fairies, bestowing baubles and trinkets and all sorts of useless things that he used to long for as a child, and he thinks that he understands why Crocker was always so obsessed with fairies.

Even if he can't remember for the life of him why green and pink are his favorite colors. . .

The world isn't the best place for rich children, even if they are reaching twenty-four.

Remy is still expected to make appearances, and someday he will inherit the family company that works for itself, so he doesn't need school or friends or lovers.

But he finds them anyway.

His name is Rudy and his teeth are too large and he looks uncomfortable in his bad suit, and he is pulling on a bad tie, and he looks familiar so Remy approaches him.

"Timmy?" Remy doesn't know where the name came from, but it's a clue, so he takes it.

"No."

Remy doesn't care.

Timmy lies in bed and dreams of a world where he could have anything he wants, he only has to wish for it. He dreams of fields of green, green, green, and clean, clean, clean air that doesn't stink of bad fast-food joints.

He dreams of blonde boys and white houses, and he dreams that he never has to worry about anything again.

Remy is a spoilt brat, milk kept too long, and Juandissimo has always known it. But it doesn't stop him from loving him.

"I want to seeTimmy." Remy demands. "Why can't you tell me who Timmy is?!"

Juandissimo shakes his head. "You know de' rules. We are not allowed to reveal other godchildren."

Remy smiles cruelly. "So he is a godchild, then?" His arms are over his chest, and he's plotting. "I've met him before. . . I just don't remember where. . . which means that he must not be a godchild any more." Remy's eyes flash on to Juandissimo. "Tell me who Timmy is! He's not a godchild anymore, so your magic can't protect him!"

Juandissimo shakes his head, and knows that his time with Remy is running short, because he may still be a child, but he was too corrupt to play the innocent for much longer. "If you find him, what will you do?"

Remy doesn't answer, because Remy doesn't know. Well, that's a lie. He does know. In explicit detail.

"I will not be able to stay with you much longer if you do something so outrageous." Juandissimo reminds him.

Remy's smile is cold and calculating, and Juandissimo wonders how he managed to stay with him until he was twenty-six. "I don't need you. I have money."

Timmy doesn't dream of princes riding up on white horses to rescue him, because that's what girls do and Timmy, despite his feminine features, is not a girl.

Shortly after his fourteenth birthday, when he was too old for a babysitter and too young for work, he began to grow in to his teeth. His face shaped out, and he did away with all of his pink clothes, but not for long. Pink and green, pink and green. . .

They were his two favorite things in the world

Remy wants to do things with style, so he drives to the Nasty Burger in a white limo, because he knows that that's the way it's done in fairytales and at twenty six, he is too young to realize that fairytales are for people who haven't lost them.

He is too sheltered to realize that driving a limo to a fast food joint settled in to the darkest cubby hole in Dimmsdale just isn't done without causing a bit of a riot.

He manages to sneak out of the limo through the trunk, leaving the driver to worry about the throngs of people hoping to catch a glimpse of Brittany Brittany or Chip Skylark, both of whom were more popular now than ever. On the Brightside, though, the Nasty Burger is delightfully empty when he enters, save for one boy who is too old to be called so standing at the counter.

For a moment, Remy doesn't recognize him – his eyes don't have the glimmer of mischief in them, and his hair is dull and greasy. His clothes, even, are uniform and white, covered in yellow stains from the grill. Remy is about to walk out, sure that he has the wrong place, but a nametag says 'Timmy,' and he seems to recognize him.

"May I help you, Mister Bucksaplenty?" Timmy asks, eyes eager to please.

"You look. . . different." Remy tries to not sound too disappointed that the world has changed everyone except for him.

"Sir?" Timmy asks, confused. "You must have me confused with someone else – I've never met you."

"How do you know my name?" Remy responses, trying to keep the annoyance from his voice.

Timmy shrugs. "You made the morning news. Something about a guy named Rudy saying that you used to date. . ."

Remy sneers and shakes his head. "I never dated a Rudy."

"But there arepictures of the two of you doing some pretty interesting –"

"I was dating a 'Timmy." Remy says, and smiles. "Nothing looks very good here."

Timmy grins awkwardly, and he looks so mismatched that Remy almost reconsiders, but then doesn't.

"Nothing looks good here."