The Shepherd Legacy

Expectations

In the hushed stillness of the Shepherd household, where the night draped its serene cloak, the absence of Meredith and Lexie Grey, busy alongside Derek in the operating room, left a palpable void. This void was momentarily filled by the soft, almost inaudible creak of a door as Mark emerged from his room, haunted by a thirst that pulled him from the depths of sleep. The house, typically buzzing with the energies of five dedicated surgeons, felt unusually quiet, save for the dim light seeping from under Mary's door, an anomaly at such an ungodly hour.

Mark, ever the protective brother, padded softly towards the light, his concern mounting with each step. The sight that greeted him was one of dedication bordering on obsession: Mary, the youngest of the Shepherd line, was ensconced in a fortress of textbooks, her focus unyielding. The glow from her nightstand cast long shadows across the room, highlighting the intensity in her young face, a stark contrast to the darkness outside.

Mary, with her back against the foot of her bed, didn't look up immediately, too engrossed in the medical text sprawled before her. It wasn't until Mark cleared his throat softly that she blinked, her focus breaking as she looked up at him, her expression a mix of surprise and mild irritation.

"What are you doing up? It's 3 a.m., Mary," Mark's voice was tinged with concern, yet carried the hint of a brotherly chide, as he stepped into the room, navigating through the sea of textbooks and medical journals.

Mary's response was immediate, almost reflexive, as she gestured around her, "Studying," her tone suggesting that the answer should have been obvious.

Mark couldn't help but roll his eyes at her tone, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips despite the worry gnawing at him. "Why are you studying at 3 a.m.?" he pressed, his gaze softening as he took a seat on the edge of her bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight.

The shift in Mary's demeanor was subtle yet unmistakable. Her shoulders slumped, the previously unwavering determination in her eyes flickering momentarily. "I... I just have to," she said, her voice a mere whisper, as if the weight of her burdens had suddenly found voice.

Mark's keen sense sharpened at her evasion, his years of experience as both a brother and a guardian recognizing the signs of distress. "Mary, come on," he began, his voice low and steady, "talk to me. What's really going on?"

It took a moment, a long, heavy moment filled with the silent battle of wills, before Mary's defenses crumbled. Her gaze dropped to her lap, her fingers idly playing with the edge of a page. "It's... It's the attendings," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "They're always comparing me to Derek. I just feel like no matter what I do, it's never enough. He was a prodigy in residency, even as a resident. I have to be as good as him, or... or better."

The raw honesty in her voice, the vulnerability, struck Mark deeper than he cared to admit. The Shepherd 'legacy' was a heavy mantle to bear, especially for someone as young as Mary. He understood the pressure, the constant comparisons, the weight of expectations. After all, he had lived through his own version of it, being raised alongside Derek and always being seen in relation to the Shepherd family. It was partially why he never took on neurosurgery - he did not want to live in Derek's shadow or compete with his brother.

"Mary," Mark's voice was firm, yet imbued with warmth, "you don't have to prove anything to anyone. You are incredibly talented, hardworking, and you're only in your second year. You're already doing amazing things. Derek... Derek is proud of you, we all are. And those attendings, they compare because it's easy, not because it's fair."

Mary lifted her gaze, her eyes meeting Mark's, searching for the sincerity in his words, the reassurance she so desperately needed.

"But it's hard, Mark. Sometimes, it feels like it's too much. Like I'm constantly in Derek's shadow, trying to live up to this... this idea of who I should be," Mary admitted, her voice stronger now, but laced with the fatigue of her internal struggle.