I Do Not Own Percy Jackson And The Olympians.

A small, emaciated body lay curled up against an alley wall. Black shaggy hair was clotted with blood and whatever color their skin had been was now a sickly white. It was obviously a little boy, and any caring mother would burst into tears at the sight of the child's form being wracked by harsh shivers. Little puff of freezing breath could be seen in the severe New York air, and bits of ice clung to the boy's long lashes.

This little boy's name was Percy Jackson.

"Go home…" the five-year-old muttered quietly to himself, speaking in only fragments as his teeth chattered. "Need to!" He let out a soft whimper as he hit his injured back against the wall. But the mature voice inside head told him there was no way he could get home with a twisted ankle and whipped back. Percy didn't like it when the voice was right. It only caused him boo-boos and a weird feeling in his chest. Like his heart was getting crushed.

Percy didn't want his heart to be crushed. That would hurt.

Just like it had hurt when he was thrown here after Gabe was finished him. He must have done something wrong; he knew he was bad. Percy wondered why, his ADHD kicking in, no other kids his age had scars like he did. When every other kid did something bad, didn't they get punished too? It was only fair.

He didn't like it when something wasn't fair. It made him feel like he was something smelly, like Gabe. Like he was less than human. But he was human! ...Right?

Yeah, Percy Jackson was perfectly normal, perfectly human. He was just like every other five-year-old boy. Nothing was wrong with him.

But that was a lie. And Mommy had told him it was wrong to be a liar.

He saw weird things. Things only his mommy had told him about in bedtime stories. Like large men with only one eye and pretty ladies with weird legs. He even remembered the snake that he had strangled, and the way his whole body had screamed "Run away!" even before he'd seen it. Percy didn't know how he had remembered that, it was over two years ago, but he did. It was scary to think about. Like Gabe.

Percy shook his head, mad at himself. Gabe wasn't scary. Gabe was just trying to make him a better person.

The little voice in his head argued about that. Didn't Smelly Gabe beat him and then throw him out here? Didn't he make him feel uncomfortable and harassed? Didn't he let his poker buddies play around with him? Percy didn't like it when they played with him. It hurt and made him want to cry, and big boys weren't supposed to do that. He was pretty sure it was wrong to be naked in front of other boys… And the way they touched him made him feel dirty. They always called him a "dirty little whore." He didn't know what that meant, but he was sure it was naughty.

Shocked, Percy thought maybe it wasn't normal for children to get hurt like he was. His teacher had talked to his class about abuse once… Was that what Smelly Gabe did? Abuse him? The little son of Sally Jackson shuddered, tears pricking behind his eyes. Did…Did that mean Gabe didn't like him? He sniffled. Percy had wanted Gabe to like him; Percy had wanted Gabe to be his daddy. His childish mind didn't understand how Gabe could be so cruel. Had he done something wrong?

Percy decided he needed to know.

So, with a new feeling of determination, he stood up and began to limp towards the direction of his rundown apartment, biting back whimpers and sobs of pain. This hurt! Percy bit down on his lips, swaying a little on his feet. The usually sprawling street was oddly empty, except for a tall man with a head of black hair like Percy's own locks. But that wasn't what got Percy to notice him. A great aura of power incased the man like a blanket. Percy, surprised and a little more than confused, stumbled and fell. He slammed his eyes shut before he hit the concrete, wincing as he landed on his bad ankle wrong.

He opened his eyes after a few panicked seconds to see the black-haired man looking at him in concern. "You alright, child?"

Poseidon didn't really know why he was walking around Manhattan in his street clothes—a pair of jeans and one of his less colorful Hawaiian shirts. It wasn't for the many lights or street shows—he had never really cared for those things—but his gut insisted that he do this. The Sea God had learned to trust his gut, and it had never let him down.

So, here he was, kneeling in front of a fallen boy, looking only around four with his small frame, and wondering why he looked so battered. He had always had a soft spot for children. "You alright, child?" he asked softly. The boy's mane of raven hair was falling in his eyes, and Poseidon was utterly surprised by the sheer amount of sea running through the young child's veins. Could this be…? Poseidon shook his head. No, his child was probably at home with his mother right now, getting tucked into bed. It was at least eleven 'o clock. Sally would never have allowed her son to be out this late all on his own. It had to be a coincidence.

The boy gave him a timid nod, his whole body flinching away from him in what seemed like fright. "Y-Yes," he stuttered, his high-pitched voice wary. Poseidon smiled at him.

"That's good," he told the child. "Where are your parents, youngling? You barely look older than four." The child of the sea scowled.

"I'm five and a half!" He huffed indignantly. Poseidon chuckled at him.

"Sorry, sorry…" The child seemed to study him before physically brightening up.

"Your eyes are like mine, mister," he told the sea-god adorably. Poseidon stiffened. No…

"Oh?" The five-year-old nodded enthusiastically, looking up at him with shining eyes. Shining green eyes. Sea-green eyes that caused Poseidon's heart to crawl up his throat.

"Yep, that means I can trust you! You can't be mean and have my eyes too!" He had to laugh at that. It was odd to hear how human children thought.

"I guess I can trust you, too, child. I'm Poseidon." Please, please…

"I'm Perc…" He trailed off as he went into a coughing fit, his hand automatically going up to cover his mouth. His entire body was wracked with small tremors, and Poseidon was completely horrified to see blood trickling through his fingers. The boy smiled apologetically as he pulled his hand back. "Percy," he told him sheepishly. "I'm Percy."

Poseidon had to stop himself from throwing up his godly lunch. "Well, Percy, how would you like to go somewhere with me?" Percy—his son—eyed him suspiciously.

"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers," he mumbled, looking at Poseidon with large, expressive green eyes. The sea-god smiled warmly at him.

"Well, I'm not a stranger, am I?"

I'm...oddly proud of this. I really tried to make Percy seem five years old, really, I did, and for my first time doing this in a younger POV, I think I did an alright job. Anyway, thank you. And a special thank you to PersephoneJackson123, because without her, I never would have gotten this idea.

This is a AU oneshot, and it's up to you to decide where Poseidon took Percy. Back to Sally, his palace, Camp Half-Blood?

~Loyalty