Hello to everyone still reading this story! It's week three of the MPaS fanfic challenge that Galimatias and I have set up and this week it was my turn to torture her with a prompt! Mwahahaha ;)

Anyway, this week I chose a verse from one of my favorite songs. "The Hardest Part of Love," from the play Children of Eden. Whenever I hear this song I tend to think of Peabody and Sherman's relationship.

Now this is a story that's actually been in my head for a while and I'm glad to have finally gotten the chance to write it! Peabs is so overprotective of Sherman that I wondered how he would deal with having to send him off to college for the first time, knowing that he must let his son go.

Also, I wanted to delve into some of Sherman's thoughts as he goes to college. The insecurities that he'll never be good enough to make his father proud, that fear of being away from home for the first time. I admit, a lot of my own personal experiences were poured into this chapter.

Well, I'll just stop rambling now and let you read the fic. But be sure to go and read Galimatias' entry for this week in her fic "The History of Now". I'm sure she'll have a fic that'll knock the socks off this one! ;)

But you cannot close the acorn
Once the oak begins to grow
And you cannot close your heart
To what it fears and needs to know
That the hardest part of love
Is the letting go

-"The Hardest Part of Love," from Children of Eden

"Oomph!" Sherman Peabody exhaled a sigh as he plopped the heavy cardboard box on the floor. Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, the young man took a moment to breathe and look around his new dorm room. Boxes filled the tiny space, various books, clothes, and spilling out out from the flimsy cardboard. Late afternoon sun streamed in from the window, casting a warm glow onto the worn, bare walls.

Sherman shook out his aching arms, walking over to the bed and plopping down on the bare mattress. The redhead let out a loud yawn as he stretched his lanky frame. He didn't think he'd taken a moment to sit down since this morning. The day had passed in a blur of freshman orientation, campus tours, room keys and IDs, and hundreds of new faces.

Sherman took another deep breath, his insides twisting in nervous excitement. Part of him still couldn't believe he was really here. It hadn't seemed real when he got his acceptance letter in the spring. A full ride scholarship to MIT for a major in engineering.

Ever since he was little Sherman knew he wanted to be an inventor like his father. He used to love when Mr. Peabody brought him to Peabody Industries. All the scientists and technical engineers that worked under the canine genius were all too eager to answer any questions his precocious young son might have. Sherman had spent many a happy day in the bowels of Peabody Industries' technical division, getting an inside look at the company's latest developments. Sometimes they'd even allowed him to help out. However, Mr. Peabody had made sure that his sweet but accident-prone child was kept well away from the more... Hazardous prototypes.

Of course that wasn't the only thing that had fostered Sherman's love of invention. He had also been inspired by one of the world's most brilliant minds and his honorary uncle, Leonardo Da Vinci. When he was old enough to time travel by himself, Sherman would often take the WABAC to Florence, spending afternoons under the eccentric genius' tutelage. Da Vinci was all too happy to share his life's work with a mind whose "unquenchable curiosity" rivaled his own.

"I learna dis myself many many a' years ago and now I'mma telling you!" Da Vinci would tell him while he watched the genius in his workshop, "The noblest pleasure isa the joy of understanding!" The jovial man's hands would wave enthusiastically as he spoke. "Remember, Sherman my boy: The knowledge of all things is possible!"

He smiled at the memory, thinking back to when he'd first gotten his acceptance letter. After celebrating with his father Sherman knew exactly where he wanted to go first, The next morning he'd taken the WABAC straight to Florence, intent on telling Da Vinci the good news...

Being the excitable Italian man that he was, Da Vinci's reaction had been one of pure joy. He'd leapt from his easel in excitement, hugging Sherman around the middle and nearly lifting the lanky teen off the ground in his fervor. He'd shaken the boys hand repeatedly and poured him a glass of wine to celebrate "this 'a momentous occasion!" Sherman had refused the drink, but he had been content sit with his uncle and celebrate with a few pieces of the man's gingerbread. Da Vinci had acquired the rare spiced delicacy when he was helping one of his wealthier friends design a wall around his villa.

"Ima so proud of you Sherman!" Da Vinci had told him, clapping the young man on the back jovially. "You've always been a smart 'a boy, but know that you are a' going on for further schooling…" The man let out an impressed whistle, thrusting his wine glass upwards. "The sky's 'a the limit my boy! The sky's 'a the limit!"

"Thank's Mr. Da Vinci" Sherman smiled politely, but at Da Vinci's words a tiny seed of fear crept into his heart. The sky was awfully big, and he was awfully small in the grand scheme of things. Sherman leaned against one of Da Vinci's workbenches, careful not to accidentally stick his hand in the jars of oil paint.

While it was true he'd worked hard in all his pursuits and was very bright, he was no genius. He was not his father. Mr. Peabody had taken to world by storm, he'd pioneered advances in technologies, licensed nearly 500 patents, brought peace to countless nations, ran a multi-billion dollar corporation, and had unlocked the secrets of space time itself. His father had carpe-ed more diem than any other being alive.

And Sherman… Well, he was Peabody's son wasn't he? Surely the son of someone so great would go on to be just as amazing. Sherman's heart grew heavier and heavier the more he thought. His father was an unparalleled genius, but he was just… well Sherman. How could someone like him live up to someone like Mr. Peabody. What could he possibly do to make his father proud?

"Ah ah ah!" Sherman was pulled from the storm clouds in his mind when he felt a calloused hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Da Vinci's wizened eyes staring curiously at him. "I know 'a that look well. Something is troubling you." It was not a question, merely a statement. "Do you not 'a wish to go to this M-I-T? You spoke 'a so highly of it before."

"No it's not that!" Sherman tried to explain, drumming his fingers on the rough wood. "Being able to go to MIT is pretty fantastic and I'm real excited to go! It's just that…" The young man sighed, debating whether or not he should voice the thought that had been haunting him. He turned to look a Da Vinci, his brown eyes laced with fear. "What if I don't make him proud?"

Much to Sherman's surprise, Da Vinci had begun to laugh, a low chuckle that came deep from his gut. But at Sherman's bemused, somewhat hurt expression he paused. "I'm 'a sorry Sherman, il mio bambino brillante, but you are 'a worrying yourself over nothing!" A warm smile came over his lined face as he squeezed Sherman's shoulder reassuringly. "I know your papa isa not the most… "feeling person. But you are his son, and Peabody loves you 'a very very much"

Letting out a sigh, Sherman ducked out from under Da Vinci's grasp. The redhead crossed his arms, staring fixedly out the window. "But he's Mr. Peabody!" Sherman exclaimed, as if that was all the explanation he needed. "He's the most incredible being to ever live! And I… I'm just… me." The last word came out with a hollow emptiness, carrying with in an air of defeat.

Well Da Vinci would have none of it.

"And what isa wrong with 'just you'!" Da Vinci questioned gesturing emphatically towards Sherman with his hands. "Mama Mia! I have 'a found that the greatest deception men suffer isa from their own opinions!" He fumed, shaking his head. "Who isa to say you cannot be great?! Who isa to say what makes one 'a greater than another?!"

Sherman was about to argue, but the words died in his throat as he saw the serious expression on Da Vinci's face. He'd only ever seen that expression when the genius was painting or inventing, so lost in his craft that nothing else existed. Except, this time, that gaze was trained on him.

The man grasped Sherman shoulder once more, his calloused hands turning the young man's chin to meet his gaze. "You are a thinker Sherman, a dreamer and a doer! I have 'a known you since you were a piccolo bambino and you 'a see the world in a way no one else does!" He grinned, patting Sherman's cheek once more before dropping his hands.

"Do not compare yourself to your papa Sherman, You must find what 'a makes you passionate, what makes your spirit soar! You see, where the spirit does 'a not work with the hand there isa no art. You will 'a remember this yes?" The genius' voice carried as urgency that Sherman had never heard before.

While in that workshop, holding the intensity of Mr. Da Vinci's gaze, there was only one word Sherman could give in response: "Yes."

Da Vinci words stills played over and over in the young man's head as gazed around his dorm room. He took a deep breath in a vain attempt to clear his muddled thoughts. Well, he was finally here. The "quest for knowledge," as Uncle Leo put it, could finally begin.

So why did it feel like his stomach was one giant knot? Why were his hands so sweaty, his knees so shaky? Why was it suddenly so hard to breathe. Sherman felt the air leave his lungs as the full impact of what today meant hit him. He'd always dreamed of of finally getting the chance to learn and to help others with his inventions.

Why then, was he so scared?

Suddenly the sound of footsteps brought Sherman to attention. The redhead turned to see his father carrying two heavy boxes through the doorway, their size easily eclipsing the beagle's slight three foot two.

"Oh!" Sherman jumped up from the mattress and ran to his father's aid. "Let me help you with that Mr. Peabody!" But his father swerved the heavy load out of the young man's grasp.

"Now Sherman I am quite capable of managing on my own." The genius was indeed handling the heavy load surprisingly well, the two boxes balanced precariously on top of one another. But Sherman couldn't help but notice how his fathers forepaws were shaking ever so slightly. Still, he chose to to say anything. After years of experience Sherman had learned by now that no one could tell Mr. Peabody he couldn't do something.

"Although I will say this." The beagle continued nonchalantly as he set his heavy load to the floor and readjusting the spectacles on his snout. "It is a tad troublesome to move you in with a dorm all the way on the fifth floor." Peabody kept atop one of the sturdier boxes to peer out the window. "Lovely view though. You can almost see Harvard from here!" He chuckled to himself. "There's still time, you know, Sherman."

"Mr. Peabody!" The redhead bemoaned, shooting his father a disbelieving look."

"Kidding! Only kidding!" Peabody held up his paws in defense, flashing his son a teasing smile.

When Sherman had first started looking at colleges Mr. Peabody had offered countless times to call in a few favors from his old colleagues at Harvard, or pull a few strings over at Columbia University, but Sherman had stubbornly refused. The young man absolutely forbid his father from aiding him in any way. After all, he didn't want to get into a college just because he was the son of the great Hector Peabody. He wanted to get in on his own merits. It'd been hard to convince his well-meaning father to step away but Mr. Peabody had eventually respected his son's wishes.

So Sherman had worked hard to get into the college that he wanted, getting straights As in high school, graduating valedictorian of his class. It also hadn't hurt that he was president of his high school robotics club, and and one of the school strongest mathletes.

"Ah well. It could've been worse I suppose. You could've gone to Yale." Peabody joked. But at the boy's blank face he cleared his throat and changed the subject.

"Well," he clapped his paws together. "that's the last of it! Now then Sherman, the checklist!" Peabody held out a paw expectantly.

"Oh right" Sherman fumbled inside the pockets of his jeans, pulling out a small notepad and handing it to his father.

"Excellent!" Peabody took a moment gaze at over his spectacles at the pad, trying to decipher his son's messy handwriting. "Textbooks?"

Sherman pulled a few hard-bound books out of one of the boxes. He held one up for his father to see. "Check!"

The beagle took a pen and crossed off the item from the list. "Bedsheets?"

it too a minute, but Sherman found them rolled up in his new laundry sack. "Check!"

"Desk lamp?"

"Check!"

"Clothing?"

"Double Check!"

But Mr. Peabody didn't cross it off just yet. He looked up from the checklist to face Sherman. "Did you pack enough shirts?"

Sherman sighed, but refrained from rolling his eyes. "Yes Mr. Peabody. At least two weeks worth" he zipped open a duffle bag on his bed, pulling out a striped button-up for emphasis.

"Your nice suit?" The genius pressed. "You never know when you'll need to dress up for a formal occasion!"

"Yeah, the one from last Christmas."

"enough underwear?"

A blush crept into Sherman cheeks. "Mr. Peabody, I'm not five!" he challenged, folding his arms across his chest.

"I never said you were Sherman" the dog stated calmly, easily nullifying the argument before it started. "It's a legitimate question." At the lack of response Peabody looked up, raising an eyebrow. "Sherman?"

"YES, Mr. Peabody!" Sherman sighed.

If Peabody detected any of the snark in his son's voice he chose to ignore it. "Good. Now how about that glasses cleaner I got you for your birthday?"

"Check..." The redhead took another deep breathe to calm his fraying nerves. He knew his father was nervous too. Mr. Peabody was just coping in the best way he knew how, by taking control of the situation.

The two carried on for quite some time, Sherman moving from box to box and making sure everything item that Peabody named was accounted for. Pretty soon the sun had nearly set, the last few rays of light bouncing off the various math and physics themed posters Sherman had begun to pin to the walls.

Peabody cleared his throat as finished, holding out the notepad for Sherman to take. "Well then, it looks like that's..." He hesitated for a moment as the impact of what he was about to say hit him. "Everything." Try as he may, the genius couldn't keep the melancholy tone out of his voice.

"Yeah..." Sherman mumbled, taking the notebook and placing it on the bare desk in the corner. He stared down at the wooden surface, worn and scratched from ages and ages of student use. "I guess..."

An awkward silence was shared between father and son, both all too aware of what had to happen.

Finally Mr. Peabody broke the ice. "You know, maybe I should stay just a little longer to help you unpack and set up your room." He began, fiddling with his tie as he spoke. "After all, proper organization-"

"-is the first step towards success." Sherman finished. "I know Mr. Peabody. But..." The young man bit his lip, "tomorrow's Monday and parents aren't really supposed to be on the school grounds after classes start."

Mr. Peabody just sighed and nodded, understanding in his eyes. "I know, I know." He agreed quietly. "I suppose I'm just being foolish." He tried to chuckle at his own expense but the laugh was a bit too hollow. The beagle leapt down from the box he'd been standing on, moving towards the open door. "Why don't you just walk me to the curb then. I'd already arranged for a pickup anyway. The cab should be here shortly."

Sherman followed his father out the door. "I thought you were taking Amelia home?" He asked as they began down the dormitory's five flights of stairs. He was referring to Mr. Peabody's private jet. Engineered by Peabody himself and unparalleled in it's fuel efficiency, it was the best private aircraft on the market. Due to it's rousing success, the President himself asked Mr, Peabody to be the lead consultant on the redesign of air force one. of course, to Sherman his father jet would always be "Amelia," after Amelia Earhart. That's what Sherman named it when his father first built it back when he was seven, and the title had stuck.

"Oh I am." Peabody nodded as they reached the third floor. The two of them weaved through the slew of students who were moving up the narrow stairwell, all carrying assorted boxes and bags to their rooms. "Amelia is waiting for me at the airport Sherman. I felt it unseemly to try and land a jet on the campus during move-in day." He explained, absently ducking under the arm of a freshman girl as she tried to carry a heavy duffle bag up the stairs.

"Oh" Sherman stepped out of the girl's path so she and her large bag could squeeze past.

The young man breathed a small sigh of relief as they exited the claustrophobic stairwell and reached the ground floor. The lobby was filled with incoming students and their families, all scrambling to carry in everything from portable coffee pots, to bean bag chairs, to mini-fridges.

Well Sherman had this to say of his father, he was very glad Mr. Peabody had thought to move him in so early. The two walked through the chaotic lobby together, Sherman holding the front door open for his father.

"Thank you Sherman," Mr. Peabody told him, paws clasped behind his back as he strolled outside, his son following close behind. Sherman was careful not to pull ahead of the beagle, knowing his long strides often outmatched Peabody's smaller steps.

"Now remember Sherman," Mr. Peabody began. "College is your first big step into the professional world, and it's very important to make a good first impression. "

Sherman merely nodded as his father continued.

"You must be on good terms with your professors and your classmates Sherman. After all, the friends you make here could very well help you later in life…"

Mr. Peabody lectured on as they made their way through the campus occasionally some students would stop and stare at the sight of a beagle walking and talking, but Sherman had long since grown used to it. Part of him even wondered if it was because Peabody was a dog or because he was a well known pioneer in the fields of science and engineering. After all, most of his father's theses were required reading for all engineering majors.

"...And be sure to stay away from the south side of Boston. It's a very shifty place for a guiless college student such as yourself."

Sherman just continued to nod as they walked, too preoccupied by the tightening knot in his stomach to comment.

"And be mindful of your health! I know all-nighters are staples of college life but please try to get at least six to seven hours a night." Peabody talked on and on, his speech becoming more jittery and nervous with every step they took towards the curb.

"And be sure to eat at least three square meals a day. You need your basic nutrients."

Suddenly they were at the curb, and there was nothing to do but wait. And still Peabody continued, now absently wringing his paws.

"Mr. Peabody I-" But he was cut off.

"And you must make sure that you know your class schedule. To be punctual is to be succesful Sherman.

"Yes Mr. Peabody but-"

"And, if ever you ever need to talk I'm just a phone call away."

"Mr. Peabod-"

"And if you ever, for any reason, need to come home I can send the jet and have you back in New York in-"

"Dad!"

And, with that one word, Peabody went silent. For the first time that day, the canine genius dropped his guard and Sherman could see the fear and uncertainly in those usually cool green eyes.

Sherman dropped down to his father's height, giving the dog a small, lopsided grin. "I think... I'll be okay!"

Peabody's eyes soften. He sighed wearily, placing a paw on his son's shoulder. In that moment, Mr. Peabody looked older than Sherman had ever seen him. The gray hairs on his snout and the bags under his eyes seemed suddenly more prominent. "Of course you'll be!" He said, squeezing the young man's shoulder tight. "I apologize Sherman, I don't mean to... Well it's just that I..."

"S'okay." Sherman interjected, knowing exactly what Mr. Peabody was trying to say. "I'm scared too."

He placed his own hand on The dog's shoulder. Both father and son held each other's gaze, all the words neither of them could say passing between the two in silence.

"But it's a good kind of scared." Sherman continued, his brow furrowed as he worked through his own thoughts, his voice growing more and more confident. "I can do this! I know I can! I'll..." He paused, taking a deep breath and looking into his father's eyes once more. "I'll make you proud Mr. Peabody!"

Peabody felt his words leave him as he gazed up into his son's eager face. And, in that moment, his saw the bright shining face of an infant smiling up at him from a cardboard box. He saw a toddler walking towards him for the first time, pudgy arms outstretched. He saw a four year old zooming around the house, a metal strainer perched atop his head as he "investigated a foreign planet." He saw the gap toothed grin of a six year old as he proudly presented his father with a messy crayon drawing. He saw a seven year old proudly piloting the WABAC for the first time. He saw a ten year old winning the junior science fair, smiling shyly at the camera as the local newspaper too his picture. He saw a nervous thirteen year old, fumbling with his bow tie, getting ready for his first school dance. He saw an self-conscious fifteen year old talking eagerly with William Shakespeare, looking for advice on how to ask out a girl. He saw a confident seventeen year old accepting his diploma, smiling out from behind a podium as he delivered his valedictorian speech.

And now here they were, Sherman eighteen and ready for college. Meanwhile Peabody was wondering where all the years had gone. For a genius who mastered space time itself, it dumbfounded Peabody just how fast he'd allowed time to get away from him...

Sherman blinked in surprise as he suddenly saw tears in his father's eyes. In all his years with the genius, Sherman couldn't remember a time he'd ever seen his father cry.

"Oh Sherman, you already have" Mr. Peabody murmured, finding his voice at last. "I've always been proud of you."

Then, a stunned Sherman felt arms encircle his neck as Peabody wrapped him in a tight hug. He didn't care if he was in public, that people might be staring. Life was too short to care about what others thought. "I love you son."

Sherman felt hot tears behind his eyes as he wrapped his own lanky arms around his father's small form. "And I have a deep regard for you... Dad." In that moment all his fears, all his worries seemed a million miles away. He could do this. His father was proud of him.

And there they stood, a young man crouched on his knees, hugging a graying bestpecacled beagle like a lifeline, with said beagle hugging right back. It was quite the peculiar sight, but no one could deny the sincerity of the love between them, a dog and his boy.

But unfortunately, as all good moments do, this one had to end. And it sounded with the loud honk of a taxi pulling into the campus lot. "Oi! I'm lookin' for a Mistah Peabody?" Called out the cabbie in a brash Bostonian accent, his arm draped over the driver's side window. "One way ticket ta the airport?"

"That would be me, my good man." Called Peabody as he broke away from Sherman, trying to wipe the tears from his eyes and compose himself. "If you please, I would like a moment to say goodbye to my son."

The cabbie merely rolled his eyes and jerked his head in response. "Fine buddy, I know how these things go. But if it goes over ten minutes I'm chargin' ya got that?"

"Indubitably," Peabody nodded. Meanwhile Sherman was wiping the moisture on his glasses off on his shirt.

"You know," The genius began awkwardly, turning back to his son. "The penthouse is going to be awfully boring without you in it."

Sherman shot him a small smile, sniffling slightly before speaking."Well, I guess you'll have to get out more then," he told the dog in a half-joking tone. "Make some friends in this century"

Peabody laughed good naturedly at the jab. "Yes… Yes I suppose I will." The dog tried in vain to clear the lump in his throat before continuing. "Well then, I best be off. Wouldn't be proper to overstay my welcome." His tone was light, but his eyes held a subtle sadness. "I'll see you at thanksgiving then, Sherman?" He asked, reaching out his paw.

The young man smiled back at his father, trying hard to hold back more tears. "Wouldn't miss it!" he replied in a tight voice, taking his father's paw and squeezing hard.

Peabody smiled and squeezed right back. "There's a good boy." And with that the beagle turned around and headed for the taxi. But before he opened the car door, he turned on last time. "Oh, and Sherman," He smiled knowingly. "Watch out for those chemistry professors won't you. I hear they all tell terrible puns."

"Oh?" Sherman smiled. He was pretty sure he knew what was coming. Mr. Peabody had that tell-tale glint in his eye.

"Yes," The dog replied, unable to keep the grin off his muzzle. "You could say that they're... in their element!"

Sherman groaned good-naturedly and, for old time's sake, called back. "I don't get it!" But he was smiling ear to ear as he watched Mr. Peabody clamber into the cab.

"Finally," the driver muttered to himself, putting the taxi in drive.

But Mr. Peabody paid him no mind. He was too busy shamelessly waving to his son as the taxi drove off the curb and sped away. Sherman grew smaller and smaller in the distance but it wasn't until he was out of sight that the dog turned around and settled in his seat, a long weary sigh escaping him.

"Your first?" The driver asked over his shoulder. "It sure ain't easy lettin' em go."

"Yes, it definitely isn't." The genius agreed, feeling a bittersweet ache in his chest. "But then again, that's the hardest part of love isn't it?" He smiled sadly, Sherman's eager, grinning face burned forever in his memory. "Letting go..."

Well, what did you guys think? Too hokey? Too sappy? I tend to get a bit carried away when it comes to father-son fluff. I just hope I was able to keep them both in character. Older Sherman was especially hard to write for. I hope I was able to age him while still keeping his core personality intact. Sorry, I'm rambling again. I suppose I'm just a bit nervous about this particular piece.

As always, thank you all so much for continuing to read this silly story, and a big BIG thank you to all the wonderful people who thoughtfully send me reviews! Your input, no matter how short, always makes my day! Keep being awesome!

Warmest Regards,

Katie