Hello Warpers!

Here's the final chapter of What Matters Most. Here's hoping it's a fitting end for the rest of this story.

I think I'm going to hold off on writing another multi-chapter fic for a while though, at least until summer comes and I have more free time. For now I think I'll probably just add on more one-shots to "Of a Dog and His Boy."

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. ^^

Sherman awoke to the morning sun as its golden rays shone onto his face. Groaning quietly, the little boy turned away from the light and snuggled deeper into the nice warm sheets. It couldn't be morning already. He was still so tired...

The redhead was just about to drift back to dreamland when a mental alarm went off in his head. Mr. Peabody should've been in to wake him up by now. It was a weekday after all...

He was going to be late for school!

At this Sherman's eyes flew open. His blurry gaze could make out the high position of the sun over the city skyline.

How late had he been sleeping?!

Struggling to disentangle himself from the warm cocoon of blankets the boy's arm shot out towards the bedside table and groped around for his glasses. After a moment, his fingertips brushed against the plastic frames. Hastily shoving the glasses unto his face, Sherman was just about ready to jump out of bed and throw on his school uniform when he stopped in his tracks.

This wasn't his room.

Now that he could see clearly Sherman recognized the meticulously ordered bookshelf in the corner, the immaculately clean floor, the framed Nobel prize on the wall, and the numerous framed pictures of him at different ages on the bedside table.

Why was he in Mr. Peabody's room?

Then, Sherman drew a sharp intake of breath as the memories of the night before suddenly flooded his mind.

Taking the WABAC, seeing his mother, letting her go, watching Mr. Peabody find him, coming back to the present, collapsing into his father's arms…

Suddenly feeling overwhelmed, Sherman fell back down on the sheets. He pressed a hand to his eyes, still slightly red and swollen from all of last night's tears.

Truthfully, he didn't remember much after taking the WABAC to the present. He'd just been too cold and tired to think straight. Vaguely, He recalled his father leading him upstairs, treating his nicks and scrapes, and helping him into some warm clothes. They hadn't talked much but Sherman had clutched Peabody like a lifeline, reassured that in the midst of all these churning emotions his father was still there, as calm and constant as ever.

By the time Sherman had been properly cleaned up and stopped shivering, it had been nearly three in the morning. Both father and son were so dead on their feet that they'd ended up collapsing on Peabody's bed and promptly falling asleep together. Besides, after all that had happened, neither was quite willing to let the other go.

The boy's eyes followed the midmorning rays of sunlight as they danced across the ceiling. Inside, His mind was still reeling from all he's seen last night. If it weren't for the scrapes on his knees and arms from the concrete he would've thought it had all been just a dream.

But no, it had been real, every bit of it. And now he would have to explain it all to his father.

Sherman chewed nervously on his lip, wringing the sheets in his hands as he sat up and eyed the bedroom door. He knew his father was out there, probably waiting for him to wake up. Mr. Peabody hadn't pressed him last night about what he'd done, but he knew they were going to have to talk about it sometime. Sherman groaned and hid his head in his hands.

He was going to be in so much trouble...

Part of him wished he could just stay hidden in his father's room for the rest of the day, pretending to be asleep. But the boy knew that wouldn't solve anything. That was the coward's way out. In the back of his mind, Sherman recalled the words of his hero, Mr. Gandhi:

"Manliness consists not in bluff, bravado or loneliness. It consists in daring to do the right thing and facing consequences…"

The great man had told him that in passing while he and Mr. Peabody had visited the great man in India around 1924. Of course, at the time Sherman hadn't really understood just what Mr. Gandhi had meant, but now he was beginning to.

Sherman sighed as he dragged himself out of the bed, his conscience overruling his fears. What he did was wrong and he needed to take responsibility for his actions. After all, hadn't Mr. Peabody always told him that was the mature thing to do?

Well that certainly didn't make it the easy thing to do.

Taking a deep breath and steeling his nerves, Sherman opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the hallway. His ears could just make out the clangs of pots and pans coming from the kitchen. Well, now he knew where his father was.

Sherman made his way towards the sound, his footsteps on the hardwood muffled by his socked feet. Finally coming to the swinging door that lead into the kitchen, Sherman stood on tiptoe to peer in through the small window.

Sure enough, there was Mr. Peabody in his black apron, expertly poaching eggs on the stove. His gaze, however, was thoughtful and distant as he worked. Clearly his mind was elsewhere.

Sherman recalled his father telling him once that cooking helped him to think. Well by the looks of things Peabody had been doing a lot of thinking lately... stacked neatly on the countertop were various pieces of Tupperware with dishes of all kinds stored inside. The stack nearly eclipsed the beagle in height. It looked like his father had already cooked their meals for the next three days at least.

Sherman bit his lip, shuffling his feet on the slippery hardwood. He supposed he could easily dawdle outside the kitchen for much longer, but he knew that would only make the butterflies fluttering around in his gut even worse. He was going to have to face his father sometime; better now than later.

Tentatively, Sherman pushed the door open, stepping into the large kitchen. Peabody's back was to him; the dog was currently in the middle of sprinkling pepper and paprika over the finished eggs. Still, his ears perked when they detected the soft footfalls behind him. Putting down the condiments, he turned to face his son.

"Ah! You're awake," Peabody clapped his paws together awkwardly, "Good. I was just finishing up breakfast…"

Peabody was relieved to see that Sherman was looking better than he had last night. True his eyes were still a little red and puffy, but he was a far cry from the distressed child who'd stepped out of the WABAC last night. Still, he saw how Sherman was wringing his hands in his night shirt, how he was biting his lip. Clearly his son was just as nervous as he was about their inevitable discussion.

Still, Peabody had had quite some time to think about what he was going to say since he'd woken up at five am that morning. Unable to sleep a moment longer, the dog had squirmed out of his son's arms and proceeded to busy himself with various tasks, allowing his mind to wander as he worked.

Thus far he'd effectively re-alphabetized the bookshelf, tuned the piano, and cooked until he'd effectively used every last grocery in the fridge. Even so, he still felt woefully unprepared as he handed the nervous seven year one of the plates he'd prepared.

"Now why don't we head into the dining room?" he prompted, taking off his apron and grabbing his own plate. "I believe we have an important family matter to discuss…"

Sherman gulped but nodded quietly, following his father out of the kitchen to the impressive mahogany table where Peabody had already set the table. Clambering up into his usual spot, the boy stared down at the egg on his plate and poked at it with his fork, not feeling very hungry at all.

Peabody, at the head of the table, cleared his throat in an attempt to end the tense silence. "As you can see, Sherman, I've decided to keep you home from school today. Considering last night's..." He paused, searching for the right word, "...incident I thought it was best to let you sleep in. Besides, we still need to talk about what happened..."

Sherman winced, his fork mashing the poached egg to a yokey pulp.

Peabody sighed as he watched his son mutilate his breakfast. "Sherman..."

The boy looked up when he felt a paw on his arm. His father was looking at him, concern in those green eyes. "I need to know what happened. I need you to tell me everything."

The boy sunk nervously in his chair, but Peabody's paw held him fast. "Please. I need to know if the space time continuum suffered any ill effects and..." he faltered slightly, "...I need to know if you're going to be alright?" There was a strange uncertainty in his voice. Sherman looked up at his father in surprise, but Peabody's sincere gaze never wavered.

Taking a deep breath the boy finally relented, putting down the yoke covered fork back on his plate and curling in on himself.

It was slow at first, but soon Sherman found himself telling his father everything: How he'd gotten the idea to travel to find his mother, how he'd used the systems security codes to take the WABAC while his father was sleeping, the moment he'd actually seen his mother, how sad she'd been, the moment he realized he had to let her go...

Somehow, it didn't hurt as much as Sherman thought it would when he told Mr. Peabody how he'd let his mother go. There was an odd, bittersweet tug at his heart as he thought of her vanishing in the rain all those years ago, but no tears flowed. Maybe he'd used them all up last night.

It was strange really. The more he talked the better he felt. It was like all the emotions he'd been holding on to were flowing out with every word her spoke. His heart didn't feel nearly as heavy anymore.

Peabody listened carefully, trying to keep a perfectly straight face as he son spoke. He knew Sherman needed to talk about this juts as much as he needed to hear it

"And then I saw you..."

Peabody's ears perked in surprise. He'd assumed that Sherman would only have seen his mother leave him. The thought that his boy could've seen him all those years ago was an option he'd never bothered to fathom.

But Sherman wasn't even looking at him. The little boy was too busy reliving the memory. His eyes far away.

"You were really surprised at first when you saw me in that box. You kept looking around for whoever left me. But then... "a ghost of a smile appeared on the boy's face.

"Um... You just sorta picked me up and started holding me like... Like I was yours..."

Peabody couldn't help the small smile that came to his snout as he relived the moment fondly remembering the tiny heartbeat against his when he'd held his son for the first time.

"When you left I took the WABAC home and... Well, you know the rest..." Sherman trailed off, suddenly finding his hands immensely interesting as he twisted them in his shirt.

He chanced a small glance at Mr. Peabody, wary of how his father might react. But Peabody's expression was perfectly neutral as he processed all his son had told him. Then, after a moment, he finally spoke.

"Yes... Well... Thank you for telling me that Sherman,"

Well, there was no damage to the time stream as far as he could surmise. His heart, however, reeled at just how much his young son had seen. How much he'd been through in such a short span of time.

When he'd first engineered the WABAC it was to teach Sherman about historical events and figures, to give his son an appreciation for the past. Never did he think it would be used to teach his son a hard lesson about maturity.

Unfortunately, now it was time for the hardest part of all, deciding Sherman's punishment. At this, Mr. Peabody was torn.

Part of him felt that Sherman had been through quite enough. Given the boy's experiences he was fairly certain Sherman wouldn't try to pull another stunt like that again.

But still, as a parent Peabody knew that Sherman needed to have a consequence for his actions.

With this in mind, he stood up, took a deep breath, and cleared his throat.

"Ahem"

All Sherman had to do was take one look at the beagle's stern face to surmise what was coming next. Letting out a sigh on resignation, Sherman stood up from his chair to face his father.

In spite of being three fourths of his son's height, Peabody managed to look very authoritarian as he stared up at the boy, arms crossed

"Now Sherman, I take no pleasure in punishing you, but you deliberately disobeyed me and as such disciplinary action must be taken." Peabody words were stern but fair, no raised tone in his voice.

Sherman nodded, his eyes cast downwards to the floor.

His sad expression tugged relentlessly at Peabody's heart strings, but the beagle knew he had to remain firm. Sherman needed to understand that what he'd done was wrong.

"I've designed the rules in this home for one purpose and one purpose only: to protect you and your well-being. So I hope you understand why I was alarmed when you broke several of them in one night…"

Sherman shrunk lower, in shame, staring down at his socks to avoid his father's gaze.

"…I hope you also understand the magnitude of the risk you took in doing so. Not only did you break my rules, you also violated the very rules of time travel itself AND put the space-time continuum at serious risk! What's worse...

He put a paw under Sherman's downcast chin raising it to meet his boy eye to eye. "...you put yourself at serious risk. You have no idea how scared I was when I woke up to find you gone and gallivanting through the time stream."

"Really?" Sherman asked in disbelief, chancing a glance at the beagle. "You were scared?"

Peabody nodded. "I was absolutely terrified!" he admitted.

Sherman's eyes widened in genuine shock. Through the years he had seen Mr. Peabody face near death countless times at the hands of ancient Mayans, French revolutionaries, and 14th century pirates all without flinching. He'd seen his father make light conversation as he fenced for his life with Robespierre; seen the dog maneuver Egyptian booby traps with ease. He'd even seen his father spar with a Trojan soldier five times his size without so much as a whimper. To Sherman, Mr. Peabody had always been Fearless.

"Now, as for your punishment." Peabody continued, getting right back on track. He had thought long and hard about what Sherman's consequences were going to be. "You are grounded for a month. That means no friends over, no robotics club after school, no television, and absolutely no time travel. Do I make myself clear?"

Sherman shoulders drooped, his eyes cast downwards once more, but he nodded all the same. He knew he deserved it. "Yes Mr. Peabody."

"Also..."

Sherman couldn't help the slight grimace from coming to his face. There was more?

Peabody sighed, running a paw over his snout. This was the hardest punishment for him to give. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to change the security codes on the WABAC and this time you are not going to have access to them."

Those simple words were enough to make Sherman's insides twist with guilt, his heart feeling heavy in his chest. The knowledge that is father no longer trusted him hurt worse than any grounding ever could.

Seeing the way his boy's face had crumpled in distress, Peabody was quick to add: "Now this isn't permanent." He placed a reassuring paw on Sherman's back. "But you need to learn that trust is something that is earned not given. If you want my trust back you're going to have to earn it. Alright?"

"Yeah… Alright," Sherman agreed sadly. Taking a shaky breath, Sherman finally let loose the words he'd been holding on to all morning. "I'm sorry . I didn't mean to scare you or mess up the time stream or-"

But before he could finish, his father had already pulled him into a tight hug. Sherman leaned into the embrace, his cheek brushing up against the dog's fur.

"I know you are," Peabody rubbed his son's back soothingly. "I know you were only trying to learn about your past. Your feelings were perfectly understandable. I just wish you hadn't put yourself at such risk." He swept a stray lock of auburn hair out of Sherman's eyes. "And, believe it or not, I'm actually proud of you."

"What!" Sherman broke away from his father, a look of incredulous shock on his face. "But… But I don't get it. I broke the rules and took the WABAC and…

"I know, I know." Agreed Peabody, "And those were all misguided actions that I never want to see you doing again." He gave his boy a long, stern look for emphasis before his eyes softened. "While I'm not pleased with how you put yourself a risk, I am proud of the choices you made while in the past."

"Oh…" Sherman's widened as he realized what Peabody was talking about. Or, rather, who he was talking about.

Peabody wrapped a paw around his son's shoulders once more. "Sherman, the decision you made to let your mother go was an incredibly hard choice for anyone to make, let alone a seven year old."

"Seven and a half" Sherman mumbled, correcting his father out of habit.

"Alright, a seven and a half year old then." Peabody amended an exasperated smile on his face. "My point still stands. It was inordinately mature of you."

"But it didn't feel mature," argued Sherman, thinking his father's praise was ill-placed. "It felt like the toughest thing in the whole world. But… But I just knew it was the right thing to do s'all. You can't mess with your past…" he trailed of, blushing at his fumbled attempt to explain his reasoning.

Peabody couldn't help the chuckle that stirred in his throat. "My boy, I think you've just described the very definition of a mature choice," he informed his son.

Sherman's blushed deepened. "Yeah, I guess…" He murmured softly. A few moments of quiet silence passed between them.

"You were right by the way."

Peabody's ears perked in surprise at his Sherman's comment. "I'm right about a lot of things," he agreed with a witty grin as he ruffled his son's hair. "I don't suppose you could be more specific."

Sherman grinned at the genius' retort before his expression became more sincere. "About my mom."

"Oh?" The beagle asked cautiously, not sure where Sherman was headed with this.

But Sherman just smiled sadly "She really did love me. She just didn't know how to take care of me." He sighed quietly, a distant look in his eye. "I think I'm always going to wonder about my mom. But I as long as I know she loved me, I'll be ok." He elaborated thoughtfully. "Does that make any sense?" The boy blushed nervously looking at his father for some sort of approval.

Inwardly, Peabody marveled at the quiet wisdom his son was displaying. He squeezed Sherman's shoulders reassuringly before simply stating "Sherman, I think that makes more sense than you realize."

Relief shone in the boy's expression, his smile slowly reaching his eyes. For a few moments, both father and son were content in the quiet peace of their home, Sherman leaning into Peabody's warm embrace.

"Oh, I nearly forgot to tell you," Peabody broke the silence. "Miss Peterson called from the school while you were sleeping. She appeared to be quite distressed when you didn't show up today." He smiled, a knowing look in his eye. "I recommend you call her when she gets home from school. I think she has something to say to you…"

Sherman gave a shy smile. He knew Penny cared about him in her own way. She just wasn't always the best at showing it. However, as he thought about his father's words a puzzled frown came to his face. "But I thought was grounded?"

"Well…" Peabody started, shooting Sherman a warm smile. "I suppose I'll make one exception for Miss Peterson."

Sherman smiled back. "Thanks Mr. Peabody"

"Yes well…" a witty grin came to Peabody's muzzle. "You'd better make it fast. After that I want to see you working on your schoolwork young man!" He tried to sound stern but the genius' playful grin gave him away. "I happen to know that you have a presentation on the Declaration of Independence due next week! And I thought…" his tone grew more sheepish as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, that you might like some assistance with it…"

Sherman's eyes lit up as he realized what his father was trying to day. "Really? You want to help me with my project?"

Mr. Peabody nodded, fiddling absently with his glasses. "Now I know I don't have much of a family lineage like your classmate's families, but you could call me something of an expert on the founding fathers. Of course you're already quite acquainted with President Washington and Mr. Jefferson so if you'd rather go it your own I-"

But the beagle's rambling was cut off abruptly as he was plowed over by a very exuberant red head. "Are you kidding? That would be awesome! You're the best Mr. Peabody!"

Peabody blushed as his son squeezed him tight. He didn't even bother to stop his tail from wagging a mile a minute as he hugged his son right back. "You're top notch in my book too Sherman!"

"Speaking of books. I have some fascinating texts you could use for your presentation." As soon as the two broke their embrace, Sherman's father had become his usual over-enthusiastic self when he was talking about anything academic.

The beagle turned on his heel to bound down the hallway. "They're right in my office. I shall return momentarily…"

Sherman laughed as he watched his nerdy father speed off. At least things were starting to get back to normal. Well, their version of normal anyway…

As he waited, the boy turned to stare out the window, gazing at the vibrant city below. As he stared, Sherman couldn't help but imagine a slight, red haired woman walking somewhere in the bustling streets. Maybe someday He would meet his mother. Maybe someday he would see her on the street and not even realize it.

But, in the end, Sherman supposed it really didn't matter. He was happy with the life she'd given to him by leaving him in that box so many years ago. He was happy she had loved him.

What's more, he had fantastic life, a bright future, and a father he loved more than anyone else in the world who loved him right back.

In the end, Sherman supposed that's what mattered most...

Yay! Je suis fini!

And now, I can sleep… -.-