Well, now that my midterms are wrapping up I can get back to my writing!

Here's Chapter 4 of What Matters Most. I apologize for the wait but this is probably one of the most difficult things I've had to write so far for a number of reasons. I hope I was able to keep Sherman in character while putting him through these more emotional scenes.

And yes, I fully realize the parallels to Meet the Robinsons. Given the circumstances I felt they were unavoidable. Still, I hope this story can stand on it's own all the same.

"At seventeen I looked into your eyes,
knew I could never comfort your cries.
Every April still reminds me of you.
The child I never knew.
My lullaby in blue."

Bette Midler, Lullaby in Blue

Rain poured down from the darkened clouds above the city, pounding the already soaked sidewalks. The few pedestrians braving the street walked quickly to get out of the downpour, bowing their heads under hoods and umbrellas in the vain hope of staying dry.

No one even noticed the small flash of light in the sky as the WABAC materialized over the rooftops. Just as well, it was gone in an instant as the cloaking shield was switched on. Still, if you squinted you could just barely see the outline of the craft as it slowly descended unto the street level, raindrops bouncing off its hull.

Sherman held his breath as he lowered the time machine on the sidewalk. Trying to look through the now fogged up windshield, the redhead wiped condensation from the glass, creating a little viewport for himself. Across the street was a simple, nondescript alcove wedged between two buildings. Truthfully, it looked like any other alley way in New York City, but Sherman knew better.

Once when he was five he'd asked Mr. Peabody to bring him here. Peabody had found it a strange request, but had humored his son just the same. After all, his father had always been honest with him about the circumstances of his adoption and Sherman had been naturally curious. Still, to be here on this night…

The boy wiped his sweaty palms on his shirt, his guts clenching. He tried to take a deep breath to calm down, but, try as he might, he couldn't seem to get rid of the anxious fluttering in his chest.

The hatch opened with a quiet hiss, as Sherman stepped out of the WABAC. He glanced around nervously but the street was completely deserted, the only light coming from the street lamps overhead. Warm damp air whirled around him as the boy made his way across the pavement, his sneakers squishing in forming puddles. His cotton shirt was beginning to stick to his skin as the rain soaked it through.

Sherman frowned in confusion as he peered into the alleyway only to see that it was deserted as well, save for a nearby dumpster. This was the right alley alright, but where was she? Maybe he'd set the wrong date by accident. Maybe-

But the sound of footsteps made Sherman's thoughts pull to a grinding halt.

Someone was coming.

Sneakers skidding on the damp pavement, the boy squeezed behind the dumpster, pinning his back against the wet brick wall. The footsteps grew closer and closer, Sherman peered out from behind the dumpster to see a slight, hunched figure coming towards him, clutching a small box in its arms. The boy's eyes grew wide, his breath catching in his throat.

Sherman couldn't quite explain how he knew it was her. He just did, beyond a shadow of a doubt.

"Mom…" he breathed quietly. He brushed the soaked hair out of his eyes as he took in the sight before him. She was timid as she approached the mouth of alley, faltering and throwing glances over her shoulder. Most of her face was shrouded in shadow from the hood of her trench coat, but Sherman could just make out a few tendrils of wet, red hair shining in the lamplight.

The boy's heart ached as he gazed at her in amazement. He couldn't believe this. There she was, the mother he'd never known, the woman who had haunted his consciousness for so long. She was standing not five feet from him, close enough to touch…

She didn't even notice the pair of wide eyes watching her from behind the dumpster as she crept into the alley, her slight body trembling with an emotion that Sherman couldn't quite place.

Immediately, all Sherman wanted to do was run up to her, to meet her. All the questions he'd had for so long were welling up inside him, too strong the hold back. He took a step forward, his heart pounding rapidly in his chest.

A loud wail suddenly broke through the tense silence, snapping Sherman out of his trance.

"Shhh… Shhh…" The woman frantically whispered, rocking the box back and forth. "No, no, no… Oh, please stop! Please don't cry. Please…" Her voice cracked as she pleaded. Setting the box besides the wall, the woman tensed and looked around, checking to see if anyone was there.

Sherman ducked quickly behind the dumpster once more, crouching back down and wincing as the rough bricks scraped against his back.

Once reassured that she was alone, his mother reached into the box and drew out a tiny bundle wrapped in blue cloth. The cloth slipped down to reveal a squirming baby with a shock of vibrant red hair atop its head.

It took Sherman a moment to come to the full realization that she was holding him as a baby. His brain nearly stalled as he tried to process this. Dealing with the "him" from the past during the whole WABAC fiasco was weird enough, but this was just too bizarre.

The woman drew the baby close to her as he continued to wail, almost as if sensing her intention for bringing him here. "Shhh… Please calm down. It's alright…" But her words were laced with desperation which only seemed to unsettle the infant further. Finally, as she clutched the infant tightly to her breast his mother began to hum, rocking him back and forth in her arms.

Sherman was beginning to shiver in his wet clothes and his knees ached from crouching on the cement but he didn't dare move. He was too intent on listening to the sound of his mother's voice. Her tone was choked and sad, but to Sherman, it was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever heard. He closed his eyes and savored every minute of the made-up tune. Knowing that, in a way, it was just for him.

Slowly but surely, the baby's wails had ceased and he was falling back to sleep. Once the infant had begun to shut his eyes, his mother gave a shuddering sigh. But still, she held the baby tightly in her arms a few moments longer before placing him carefully back into the cardboard box.

Getting to her knees, the woman tucked the blanket around the baby gently. She raised a shaky hand to caress his cheek.

Sherman watched her quietly from behind as she kneeled there over the box, arms wrapped around her thin frame, her eyes never leaving her child's face. Listening quietly, Sherman could just barely make out the choked sounds coming from his mother as her shoulders began to shake violently.

"I'm so sorry." She managed to say as sobs wracked her body. "I've tried for so long but I just can't… I just don't… I don't know what to do…" She sniffed, still trembling violently as she tried in to explain herself to the infant.

"But things will be better now, you'll see…" She rambled, smoothing the blanket and adjusting the tiny name tag she'd left pinned to it. "Someone is going to find you… I just know it…" She took his tiny hand in her own, squeezing it tight. "And then everything will be… Will be…" Unable to finish, the woman let out a strangled sob, bringing her hands to her face as if to shut out the world.

Unshed tears pricked at Sherman's eyes as he stared at his mother's hunched form. He stepped out from behind the dumpster, quivering as he approached her. His insides were twisting into knots as he drew nearer, not daring himself to so much as breathe. This was it. It was now or never.

So absorbed in her own emotional turmoil, the woman didn't even notice the small boy as he approached her.

Sherman stretched out his hand, his fingertips just inches away from the damp trench coat.

But his hand faltered. The full impact of what he was about to do finally reached him, clearing the haze of irrational need.

Deep in his heart, Sherman knew this wasn't right.

What would this do to the time stream if he continued? What if he scared her and she ran off with the baby? What if she went and left him somewhere else? What if Mr. Peabody never found him?

Sherman withdrew his hand as if he'd been burned, skittishly stepping back.

Mr. Peabody always told him that all things happen for a reason. Who was he to change the past?

But still…

Sherman bit his lip, staring longingly at the sobbing woman. More than anything he wanted to tell her he would be alright, that someone was going to find him and love him…

And want him…

The boy's eyes widened at his sudden revelation, the words of his father echoing through his mind.

"…The moment I looked into that box and saw you I wanted you, Sherman…"

"…I will never stop wanting you…"

Tears ran down his cheeks, mingling with the raindrops on his already wet face. It was at that moment, Sherman knew what he had to do. Slowly, the boy began to back away, his heart burning with each step he took.

Maybe sometimes, you couldn't have all the answers. Maybe sometimes you couldn't have everything you wanted. Maybe sometimes, the past was best left to the past.

Unfortunately in his haze, Sherman wasn't watching his step. His foot slipped in a nearby puddle, causing the seven year old to sway precariously, his arms flailing. He managed to catch himself on the dumpster, but failed to muffled the loud clang of his palms on the metal surface.

The noise jolted the woman out of her turmoil. Sherman barely managed to crawl back behind the dumpster in time as she whirled around, clutching the hood around her face.

He held his breath as she jerked this way and that, looking for the source of the noise. After a few tense seconds, her shoulders lowered slightly. She turned back to the box, kneeling down to kiss her baby's sleeping face one last time. "I'm so sorry…" she whispered, those three simple words carrying the regrets of a lifetime. And with that, the woman picked herself, swayed slightly on the spot, and took off at a brisk pace.

Even though he knew that what he was doing was right, that this was the way things needed to be, it still took every bit of resolve Sherman had not to chase after the woman as he watched her walk away. His eyes followed her sadly as she turned the corner and vanished out of his life forever.

He stood there for sometime, feeling strangely numb as the raindrops splattered on his glasses. He shivered slightly, hugging his scrawny arms to his soaking wet clothes.

However, the boy was pulled from his thoughts when a tiny cry met his ears. Sherman turned back to the alley to see that it was coming from the cardboard box.

The baby had just woken up.

Sherman winced and covered his ears as the cries began to escalate into wails. He nearly ran to the box before his reason kicked in. There was no way he could come in contact with himself! He was already risking the time stream by just being here… Sherman ran a hand through his messy wet hair in frustration. What was he supposed to do?

But before Sherman could do anything, he heard the sound of footsteps coming around the corner. Realizing he'd never make it to the WABAC in time, the boy dove behind the dumpster once more, scrapping his arms and knees against the cement in his haste. Sherman leaned against the rusted metal, chancing a look to see who was coming.

His eyes widened as he saw the all too familiar sight of a bright red umbrella and the pair of white paws walking beneath it.

Mr. Peabody was humming tunelessly to himself as he walked along the wet sidewalk. His eyes were distant and thoughtful, his genius mind obviously on something other than the dreary weather.

As he continued to stare, Sherman marvelled at just how little his father had changed in the last seven years. He looked no older than the Peabody that had tucked him in just that night in the present. Still, Sherman couldn't quite explain it but there was something slightly more distant about the dog, something more reserved.

As the baby let out another cry, Peabody's ears perked. Pulled abruptly from his thoughts the beagle looked around him in confusion. Finally, his eyes came to rest on the cardboard box.

Sherman had to crouch lower to avoid being seen, but his eyes still followed Peabody as the dog tentatively approached the box. He knew what was going to happen. After all, his father had told him countless times. But still, he couldn't help his expression of awe as he watched in fascination. To be here, to see this for himself…

"What in the world…"

Sherman drew a sharp intake of breath as he watched Peabody open the cardboard flaps. Then, the cries abruptly stopped, giving way to a happy gurgle.

Peabody stood there dumbfounded as he took in the sight of the little baby smiling up at him, his tiny arms reaching out up towards the dog.

After a moment's hesitation, Peabody drew out the infant from the wilting cardboard. The round glasses nearly slipped from the baby's face as he shifted into the beagle's arms.

"Where did you come from?" He murmured, holding the squirming bundle in one paw while trying to balance his umbrella in the other. He looked around once more, trying to find any evidence as to who had left this child in an alley of all places. He sniffed the air to find a scent but merely grimaced as the smell of wet garbage from the dumpster entered his nose.

Behind said dumpster, Sherman breathed a small sigh of relief. In any other circumstance he was certain his father would've picked up his scent.

A small hand against his snout caused Peabody to look back down. The baby gurgled happily at the dog's shocked expression reaching out his hand once more to bat at the dog's wet nose.

Peabody couldn't help the chuckle that escaped him, nor could he stop the smile coming to his muzzle. Noticing the small tag attached to the blanket, he peered over his spectacles to read the messy scrawl. "Sherman…" Peabody read aloud.

As he turned back to the baby in his arms, Sherman noticed a small change in his father. Gone was the hesitancy, the reservation in those green eyes. Instead there was something else, something much stronger, much more real and vulnerable.

With a jolt, Sherman realized it was the exact expression Mr. Peabody gave to him every time he tucked him in, every time he told him "I love you."

It was love. The expression was love, pure and simple.

A warmth flared in the pit of Sherman's chest, spreading to the rest of his shivering body and, for a moment, making him forget the cold. Mr. Peabody loved him, and he'd always loved him. A few more hot tears streamed down the boys face, blurring his vision.

Peabody held the baby tightly to his chest, just like Sherman's mother had done just a few moments ago. "Well then Sherman," the Beagle whispered affectionately, wiping a few raindrops from the baby's cheek. "Why don't we go home and get you cleaned up."

His only response was a tiny yawn as the baby nestled contently into the dog's fur. But somehow, that was all the answer Peabody needed.

Sherman watched as Mr. Peabody, the baby tucked securely in his arms, walked out of the alley and into the sidewalk. His eyes followed that red umbrella as if grew farther and farther away, it's vibrant color shining like a beacon in the gloom.

Meanwhile back in the present, a distraught Mr. Peabody paced the narrow walkway of the WABAC room. In his anxiety, the genius wasn't even bothering with his usual composure, allowing his canine instincts full reign. His tail was wagging frantically, his ears pinned back the the sides oh his head.

Turning around once more, Peabody's eyes wandered to where has disappeared only moments ago.

Of course, time meant nothing to a time machine. For all he know Sherman could've been gone for hours, or days… He wrung his paws nervously, his mind reeling at the thought of Sherman on his own in the past.

Honestly he didn't know who to be more angry at. Sherman for deliberately disobeying one of his biggest rules, or himself for not seeing this coming.

He'd known something was still bothering his son. He'd seen how unnaturally cheerful the boy had been before bed. Why hadn't he said something?

Now Sherman was gone and who knows what dangers could be wrought on the time stream!

The beagle's heart began to race as more worry welled up in his mind. Try as he might, he couldn't stop the low whine from rising in his throat. he'd never felt so helpless so out of control.

More than anything, Peabody just hoped his son was alright.

But before his worried thoughts could continue, the dog felt his fur stand on end as the air around him increased in pressure, a crackle of static cutting through the silence. Peabody sniffed the air, the metallic tang of ozone reaching his nose.

His mind put together the variables in an instant. Realizing what was about to occur, Peabody leapt back. Then, precisely as he had predicted, a bright flash of light flooded the room, a large orb re-materializing directly in its center. The genius shielded his eyes and braced himself for the impact of the shock wave that would inevitably follow the WABAC's reentry to the present.

Sure enough, the loud crack and subsequent shock nearly knocked Peabody off his feet, the dog catching himself just in time. When his eyes recovered from the light, Peabody looked up to see that the WABAC had returned. The time machine was floating in it's usual spot, the occasional crackles of electricity along its hull the only indicator that it had been gone at all.

Quickly Peabody did a rudimentary check of his mental processes, scouring through his brain for his most important memories, making sure that they were all intact. Becoming a US Citizen, Graduating from Harvard, winning the Nobel Prize…

So far so good. But he reserved his sigh of relief for the last memory, his most precious memory, as it appeared in his mind's eye: the smiling face of a baby as it's tiny hands reached out to him from a cardboard box, brown eyes looking up at him in wonder.

At least the time stream was intact.

But his son was still in a heap of trouble!

Peabody marched towards the WABAC, his fists clenched at his sides and his tail whipping around angrily behind him. Honestly he didn't know of he'd ever been so cross with Sherman. The beagle had every intention of giving His son the biggest talking to he could muster for worrying him so much.

But as the hatch of the WABAC hissed open, the sight before him caused Peabody to stop dead in his tracks.

There, quivering like a leaf, stood Sherman.

The boy was white as a sheet and completely exhausted, evidenced from the way he swayed on the spot. He was completely soaked, his filthy wet clothes sticking to his skin, damp hair falling in his face. There were small scraps and cuts on his hands, knees and arms, and Peabody's snout wrinkled as he detected the stench of wet garbage.

But it was Sherman's face that held Peabody the longest. From behind his rain spattered glasses the child's eyes were red and raw, carrying with them too many emotions for Peabody to properly identify. That, and he suspected the wet sheen on the his son's cheeks wasn't merely the from the rain.

Obviously his boy had seen much more than his seven and a half years had prepared him for.

However he only had a few moments to take in Sherman's appearance before the child took a shaky step out of the WABAC, fell to his knees, and crumpled into his father's arms.

All the angry thoughts flew from Peabody's mind as he pulled the trembling child close, nuzzling his snout into the crook of his neck. He was alarmed to find that his boy's skin was like ice. Just how long had Sherman been gone? The dog tried his hardest to cover as much of Sherman exposed skin as he could in his embrace, transferring his own body heat to the shivering boy.

"M'sorry…" Was all Sherman managed to choke out, but Peabody shushed him.

"It's alright Sherman. It's going to be alright…" His father soothed. Peabody didn't even care that Sherman was dripping wet and filthy or that he was hugging him far too tightly, crying wet, hot tears into his shoulder.

Come morning, he would find out exactly what Sherman had seen. They would talk about it and Sherman would get the scolding of a lifetime. But for now Peabody knew his boy needed to debrief and was content to hold Sherman as long and as tightly as he needed.

All that mattered now, was that his son was safe.

One more chapter to go and this story is finished!

I hope I did a good enough job portraying Sherman's mother. Her scene was extremely difficult to write for obvious reasons. I didn't want to villainize her, but at the same I didn't want to completely flesh her out. In many ways, she's always going to be a mystery to Sherman.

Thank you all for being patient. Between schoolwork and the need for sleep I've been finding it tough to find time to write. Let's just say I'm looking forward to a much less stressful summer!

And now I shall leave you to your feels, in whatever state they may currently be…