After Richard had firmly instructed that Mary was to remain on bed rest for another week, the Shepherd household had settled into a tense routine. Mary, ever the active and engaged doctor-in-training, found the confinement unbearable. Despite the warnings from Derek and Mark about taking it easy, Mary's turmoil was growing, and with it, her patience was thinning. The renowned adage 'doctors make the worst patients' seemed to have been coined with Mary in mind, her restlessness manifesting as a sharp tongue and a short fuse.
The first clear sign that Mary was struggling with her enforced inactivity came one afternoon. Derek, always the caring older brother, entered the living room with a gentle concern. "Hey, Mare, how you feeling?" he asked, trying to keep the atmosphere light.
Mary, her frustration simmering just below the surface, could only muster an eye roll. "I'm fine," she replied tersely.
Derek, sensing her mood but choosing to overlook it for the moment, pressed on. "Any fever? Or pain?"
It was then that Mary's patience snapped. Turning to face Derek fully, her voice tinged with exasperation, she exclaimed, "For the love of God, I told you, I am fine!"
Derek, taken aback by her sharp tone but still attempting to maintain his composure, asked, "Did Mark administer your shot already, or do you need me to?"
Her response was a dismissive eye roll. "Can't you just ask him?"
Derek, his patience wearing thin, crossed his arms, his tone dropping an octave. "I am just checking in on you."
"Well, you don't need to! Just leave me the fu-" Mary began, her voice rising.
Derek, his tolerance for her attitude evaporating at the swear word, cut her off. His voice was stern, a clear warning in his tone. "You better not finish that sentence." Mary halted mid-sentence, visibly taken aback by Derek's firmness. He continued, "I don't know what's gotten into you, and frankly, I don't care. I know you don't like being home all the time, but you have no right to speak to me this way. This attitude you have going on—fix it. Or I will fix it for you." Mary paled slightly, the severity of Derek's words hitting home. "Am I clear?"
Subdued, she nodded, her face flushing at being scolded. "Yes, sir."
"Good," Derek said, before turning to leave, his footsteps echoing his lingering frustration.
As he exited, he ran into Mark, who had been about to check on Mary himself. "What was that about?" Mark inquired, noting Derek's agitated state.
Derek exhaled deeply, the residue of his anger still palpable. "Her attitude. I'm done tolerating it."
Mark raised his hands in a gesture of mock surrender. "Hey, I hear you, Derek. She's just mad about being cooped up at home while we're working."
Derek sighed, his anger giving way to understanding yet firm resolve. "I get it—but that does not give her the right to disrespect everyone. She was rude to Meredith, and Mer just wanted to see if she needed anything. If she keeps up the attitude, I'll step in to correct it."
Mark nodded solemnly, understanding the gravity of the situation, and headed into the living room to check on Mary himself, prepared for the challenging conversation ahead.
Unbeknownst to both Derek and Mark, the real test of their patience and resolve was just around the corner, setting the stage for a confrontation none of them could have anticipated.
–
The next day, Mary, feeling the walls of the house closing in on her after days of enforced bed rest, decided she needed an escape. The anxiety that had been building inside her since her surgery had reached its peak. Convinced that a short drive would do no harm and craving a semblance of normalcy, she saw her chance when the house was left empty, with Derek, Mark, Meredith, and Lexie all at the hospital for the day.
After a quick lunch, she grabbed her keys with a sense of rebellious determination. Behind the wheel, Mary felt a rush of liberation. The familiar streets passed by in a blur, the sense of normalcy offering a temporary escape from her recuperation She drove aimlessly at first, enjoying the simple pleasure of movement, before stopping at a fast-food store to indulge in some fries—a small act of defiance against her current state of convalescence.
However, as she drove, a twinge of discomfort at the site of her recent surgery brought her back to reality. Checking the stitches discreetly, she assured herself that she had simply overexerted a bit. She was, after all, a surgical resident and knew her limits—or so she thought. Deciding against heading to the hospital and convinced she was fine, Mary turned the car back towards home.
As she parked, the sight of missed calls from Derek on her phone caused her heart to skip a beat. She paled slightly, hoping that he was just checking in, unaware of her little excursion. With a rehearsed excuse at the ready, she prepared to call him back, expecting to hear his phone ring from the hospital.
But as she entered the house and dialed his number, the sound of a ringing phone from the living room stopped her in her tracks. Confusion washed over her as she realized Derek was not at the hospital, where he was supposed to be. Slowly, with a growing sense of dread, she walked towards the living room.
The sight that greeted her was one she hadn't prepared for. Derek was there, sitting in the armchair with his phone in hand, his expression darkening the moment he saw her. The air seemed to thicken with tension as he stood up, his eyebrow raised in a silent question that spoke volumes.
Mary's mind raced for an explanation, but the surprise of seeing him there, coupled with the guilt of her actions, left her momentarily speechless. The realization that her brief taste of freedom might have severe consequences suddenly became all too real.
Derek's face was a storm of emotions, predominantly fury. The sight of him, so unexpectedly present and visibly irate, made Mary's defiance waver for a moment, but she quickly recovered, bracing herself for the confrontation.
"Derek, I--" Mary started, but Derek cut her off.
"Where were you?" Derek's voice was low, dangerously calm, a clear precursor to the storm brewing within.
"I just went for a drive," Mary replied, trying to keep her voice steady, though she could feel her resolve beginning to crumble under Derek's piercing gaze.
"A drive?" Derek's voice escalated, his disbelief turning into anger. "You're supposed to be on bed rest, Mary. What were you thinking?"
Mary, defiant despite the clear error in her judgment, retorted, "I was going stir-crazy at home, Derek. I needed to get out."
"Needed to get out?" Derek's voice rose, the volume echoing his growing fury. "You could have compromised your recovery, Mary. You're a surgical resident; you should know better."
"I checked the stitches; they're fine," Mary insisted, her defiance still evident despite the tremor in her voice.
Derek, unable to contain his frustration, raised his voice, "That's not the point! You're not cleared for this kind of activity. You took a needless risk!"
The room was charged with tension, the air thick with unsaid words and burgeoning anger. Mary, her defiance crumbling under the weight of Derek's fury, found herself at a loss for words. "I was just-"
Derek, still stern but with a hint of anger that had not yet dissipated, interrupted her, "You can't take risks like this. I am disappointed that we have to have a conversation about you following instructions."
"But Derek--" Mary tried to interject, seeking some semblance of understanding.
"We're going to have a serious talk about this with Mark when he gets home." His tone left no room for negotiation, the authority of an older brother and guardian evident in every word.
Mary, nodding, looked down, tears brimming in her eyes. "Yes, sir."
The confrontation left a palpable rift in the room, a stark reminder of the responsibilities they both bore: Mary as a patient and a younger sister and Derek as her guardian and protector. After the initial argument, Derek's concern for Mary's well-being overpowered his anger. "I'm going to check your stitches," he stated firmly, his tone brooking no argument.
Mary, still reeling from the earlier exchange, protested, "I already did. They're fine." She was being honest - that was the first thing she did when the pain had first radiated during her car ride.
Given her recent act of defiance, Derek was unswayed. "After your little escapade, I'm not taking your word for it," he insisted, his concern evident despite his frustration.
"I'm fine, Derek," Mary argued, trying to pull away, but Derek's patience was thinning. He swatted her thigh firmly, a warning laced with authority. "Mary Amelia Shepherd, you are already on thin ice with me. Don't push it. Sit down and let me check you over."
The unexpected reprimand caused Mary to blush, a mix of embarrassment and frustration. Reluctantly, she conceded, allowing Derek to examine her, sitting down and rubbing the sting away on her thigh.
As Derek carefully checked over the stitches, he couldn't help but lecture her. "What would have happened if your stitches tore while you were driving?"
"I would have been fine," Mary retorted stubbornly, her pride wounded, both by the truth in Derek's reprimand as well as by the swat.
Derek sighed angrily but focused on the examination. When he pressed on an area, and Mary winced, he caught the slight reaction. "Does that hurt?"
"No, it doesn't," she lied, attempting to maintain her facade of toughness.
Derek, not convinced, pressed again, eyeing her sternly. When Mary lied again, he swatted her thigh once more, reinforcing his point. "Be honest."
She finally admitted, a hint of whining in her tone, "Fine, it hurts." She rubbed her thigh once more, blushing at the firm discipline.
Derek expressed his concern. "I don't like that the area is tender. I want a general surgeon to look at it."
Mary tried to protest, "I'm fine," but one look from Derek silenced her. She knew better than to argue when Derek was this serious.
After a thorough check, Derek finally concluded, "You seem okay," letting her go.
Mary huffed, her frustration evident. "I already told you that."
He flashed her a look, a silent warning about her continuing attitude. She quickly apologized, her defiance melting away under his gaze. "Sorry."
Derek shook his head, clearly not pleased. "I'm not happy, Mary. You're not in my good books right now, so I suggest you toe the line with me."
Mary nodded, subdued and chastened. "Yes, sir."
Derek's demeanor softened as he regarded Mary, the severity in his eyes giving way to a palpable concern. He paused, eyeing her sternly for a few more moments, the weight of his worry evident in his gaze. Then, unexpectedly, he reached out, pulling her into a firm but comforting hug.
"I was so worried," he admitted quietly, his voice carrying a depth of emotion he rarely showed. "When you didn't respond to my calls, and then I came home to find you weren't here... I didn't know what to think."
Mary, caught off guard by the sudden shift from sternness to care, found herself melting into the hug.
"I'm sorry," Mary murmured, her voice muffled against Derek's shoulder. The defiance and frustration that had characterized her behavior earlier had dissipated, replaced by a genuine remorse for the worry she had caused.
Derek held her a moment longer before pulling back slightly, his hands resting on her shoulders as he looked her in the eyes. "Just... don't scare me like that again, okay? You have to think about how your actions affect the people who care about you."
Mary nodded, her eyes reflecting her understanding and acceptance of his words. "I will. I promise."
Derek gently pulled away, his affection for Mary evident as he kissed the top of her head. His concern hadn't faded, but it had morphed into a caring, protective gesture.
"Please, go and rest in your room for a bit," he suggested, his tone softer now, but still imbued with concern. "I'll make lunch."
Mary quirked an eyebrow. "Is that an order?" she asked, a slight smile playing on her lips.
Derek chuckled, the sound filled with warmth. "A strong suggestion," he corrected, though they both knew the weight his words carried.
She hesitated, her earlier restlessness resurfacing. "I'd rather stay with you in the kitchen. I don't like being alone," she admitted, her vulnerability peeking through her request.
Derek paused, considering her words. He understood her need for company, especially given the circumstances, but her well-being remained paramount. After a moment, he found a compromise. "I'd really rather you lay down," he said, his tone indicating that the matter was not open for further negotiation. "You can lay down in the living room, and once I'm done, I'll join you. We can watch something together."
Mary recognized the concession for what it was—a middle ground that allowed Derek to ensure she rested while also respecting her wish for companionship. She nodded, understanding that Derek's 'strong suggestion' was indeed more of an order born out of concern and care. "Alright," she agreed, a small smile gracing her lips.
As she made her way to the living room to lay down, the underlying respect and understanding between them was clear. Derek watched her settle into the living room, a sense of relief washing over him. His primary concern was her well-being, and knowing she was safe and resting under his watchful eye allowed him a moment of peace.
Around five minutes later, Derek came in with a couple of sandwiches and sat beside her. Comfortably, Mary laid her head in his lap as they began scrolling through Netflix on the TV. When Mary pointed to a medical drama, Derek chuckled but acquiesced, and they started watching an episode together.
During a scene where two of the surgical residents were making out in the on-call room, Derek couldn't help but roll his eyes. "This is so inaccurate. Actual residents don't have the time for that," he commented, somewhat amused by the dramatization.
Mary looked up at him, laughter in her eyes. "Well, you and Mark are both involved with residents, and I'm dating a resident," she pointed out with a playful tone.
Derek laughed in response, acknowledging her point. "Okay, okay, you've got me there," he conceded, enjoying this rare, peaceful moment between them.
However, their leisure time was cut short when Mark returned home. The atmosphere shifted immediately, becoming more serious as Derek got up to greet him. Mary's anxiety spiked, sensing the impending conversation about her earlier indiscretion.
From her position in the living room, Mary could hear Derek's voice as he told Mark, "We need to talk," and they both headed into the kitchen, shutting the door behind them.
Inside the kitchen, Derek recounted the events to Mark, his tone grave. "Mary took the car out today, even though she's supposed to be on bed rest. I found out when I came home early and she wasn't here."
Mark's reaction was instant and furious. "She did what?" His concern for Mary's health, masked by his anger, was evident. "Does she not understand how serious her recovery is? What if something had happened to her?"
Derek nodded, sharing Mark's frustration. "I know, I know. I've already spoken to her about it. She's aware she made a mistake. But we need to make sure this doesn't happen again. We have to be clear about the consequences of her actions."
Mark took a deep breath, trying to calm his initial fury. "Okay. We'll sit down with her together. She needs to understand that her health isn't just her concern—it affects all of us."
As the tension in the Shepherd household escalated, Mary's anxiety reached a tipping point. The thought of confronting both Derek and Mark together, knowing full well the gravity of her actions, was overwhelming. In a moment of panic, she decided to flee, an action born out of a desperate need to escape the immediate pressure. She quietly got up, her movements quick but shaky, as she grabbed her car keys and made for the front door.
However, fate—or perhaps the timing of her brothers—intervened. Just as she opened the door, Derek and Mark emerged from the kitchen, their conversation pausing abruptly at the sight before them. Mark's voice, heavy with anger but also laced with concern, broke the silence. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked, his tone leaving no room for evasion.
Mary, caught in the act, closed the door reluctantly. "Nowhere," she mumbled, a mixture of defiance and resignation in her voice.
"That's what I thought," Mark retorted, extending his hand in a silent demand for her car keys. The gesture, authoritative and expected, was a clear assertion of his role as her guardian at that moment.
Mary, her pride wounded and her defiance flickering, refused at first, holding the keys just out of reach. Mark's eyebrow arched higher, his hand still outstretched. It was a silent challenge, a battle of wills that everyone in the room knew Mark would inevitably win.
Feeling cornered and outmatched, Mary's frustration peaked. With a huff, she slammed the keys into his palm, attempting to brush past him and into her room. But Mark was quicker, his grip firm as he caught her by the upper arm. "To the living room," he directed, his voice leaving no room for argument.
"I'm going to my room," Mary countered, trying to reclaim some semblance of control over the situation.
Mark's response was immediate, his tone sharp yet controlled. "Unless you want to grab a belt on the way to your room, you'll head to the living room." The underlying threat, though not voiced with malice, was clear and effective.
Though she rolled her eyes, a silent expression of her lingering defiance, she made her way to the living room as instructed.
As Mary settled onto the couch, her posture defensive and her gaze lowered, the gravity of the situation became palpable. Mark, determined to maintain a level of respect and authority, approached her. Gently but firmly, he tipped her chin up to ensure eye contact. "If you roll your eyes at me again, I will send you to get the belt," he warned, his tone leaving no room for misinterpretation.
Mary's initial response was a nod. Mark, needing verbal confirmation, pressed further. "Am I clear?"
"Yes, sir," she replied, her voice a mixture of resignation and understanding.
Derek then broached the topic of the afternoon's escapade, to which Mary's immediate reaction was a resurgence of defensiveness and defiance. "I just needed some air. I was feeling trapped," she tried to justify, her tone edgy.
Derek, however, remained unyielded. "Had your stitches torn in the car, you could have gotten into an accident, if not worse," he reminded her, his concern evident in his voice.
The reality of Derek's words struck Mary. "I'm sorry," she said, the sincerity in her voice reflecting her realization of the potential danger she had put herself in.
In a gesture of comfort, Mark moved to sit next to her on the couch, pulling her into a side hug. His approach was gentle, yet his intent was clear – he wanted her to understand the importance of her actions from a medical perspective.
"Mary, I want you to explain to me the importance of bed rest after an appendectomy, just like you would to a patient," Mark said, his voice soft but firm.
Mary, still nestled in the crook of Mark's arm, took a deep breath, gathering her thoughts. She shifted into her medical resident mode, her voice taking on a more clinical tone. "Well, after an appendectomy, the body needs time to heal. Bed rest reduces the stress on the abdominal area, helping to prevent complications like bleeding or the wound reopening."
Mark nodded, prompting her to continue. Mary sighed, "Also, there's a risk of developing a clot, especially in the lower extremities, if you're too active post-surgery. Staying on bed rest helps minimize that risk."
"And what about infection?" Mark probed gently.
Mary continued, "Being active can increase the risk of infection. It's crucial to limit movement to ensure that the area stays clean and undisturbed."
Derek, listening from the side, added, "And your little joyride? How does that fit into this medical advice?"
Mary, her cheeks flushing with a mix of shame and newfound understanding, admitted, "It doesn't. I acted against medical advice. I put myself at risk."
Mark, still sitting next to her, affirmed her realization. "Right, it doesn't." His tone was softer, but the seriousness remained.
Mary, looking up at Mark, promised, "It won't happen again."
Mark nodded, acknowledging her commitment. He pulled her into another side hug, a gesture of reconciliation and familial affection. Yet, even within this embrace, his voice carried a note of sternness. "Derek and I intend to ensure that."
Mary's eyes widened in response to Mark's firm declaration, a clear indication of the gravity with which Derek and he viewed the situation. She shook her head, but Derek was quick to reinforce their stance. "It's non-negotiable," he stated firmly, leaving no room for doubt. "But we will wait until you're fully recovered."
Mark, seizing the moment of quiet, pressed on. "What did we say would be the consequences if you neglected your health again?" His voice was stern, demanding her attention and acknowledgment of their previously set boundaries.
Mary's eyes flitted away, her blush deepening. "I... I would be disciplined," she stuttered, the words heavy with implication and memory of their earlier discussions on the matter.
Unsatisfied with her vague response, Mark probed further, his voice gentle but firm. "How, Mary?"
Her embarrassment peaked as she whispered, "Like... like we talked about before, in the study." The admission was difficult, and the young resident struggled to face her brothers' disappointment.
Derek nodded, his expression softening slightly with understanding but still underscored by the seriousness of his duty as her guardian. "The conversation in the study will have to wait until you're fully recovered. But make no mistake, it will happen."
Attempting to reassure her brothers of her sincerity, Mary insisted, "I've learned my lesson. I won't do this again."
Derek, however, was adamant in their approach to ensure her safety. "Once again, Mark and I intend to make sure of that," he said.
Mary sighed, her resolve mingling with a sense of resignation. "Am I excused to go to my room?" she asked, seeking a retreat to process the day's events.
Derek nodded, signaling her release. As Mary turned to leave, Mark called out her name. She paused, turning back to see him extend his hand towards her, her car keys dangling from his fingers. "I trust that you will adhere to the bed rest from now on, and I don't have to confiscate these," he said, his voice carrying a blend of trust and caution.
Mary nodded, accepting her keys with a small, grateful smile. The gesture was small but significant, a symbol of trust and faith in her judgment. It was a moment of understanding, a reassurance that despite the firm boundaries set by her brothers, there was still room for trust and mutual respect.
With her keys in hand, Mary headed to her room, the conversation with Derek and Mark lingering in her mind.
--
As the evening quieted down, Mark made his way up to Mary's room, gently knocking on the door. "It's Mark. Can I come in?" he asked, his voice carrying a softness that belied the sternness of their earlier interaction.
"Sure," Mary responded, her voice subdued.
Mark entered, finding her sitting on the bed, her posture reflecting the introspection of the last few hours. He sat beside her, his presence a silent offer of support. "I just wanted to check in on you," he began, his tone gentle yet carrying an underlying seriousness. "I know we came down hard on you but..."
Mary cut him off, her voice stronger than he expected. "I get it, Mark. And I don't blame you." She looked at him, her eyes conveying understanding and regret.
Mark, taken aback by her admission, searched her face for any hint of sarcasm or challenge but found none. "You do?" he asked, needing to hear more.
"Yeah," she sighed, her gaze dropping to her hands. "What I did was stupid, and I deserve the consequences."
At her acknowledgment, Mark's demeanor softened further, and he pulled her into a hug. "Are you okay?" he asked, worry lacing his voice.
Mary nodded against him. "I am now," she said quietly.
As they separated, a moment of silence fell between them, both reflecting on the events that had unfolded. Then, Mary spoke up again, her voice tentative. "I also wanted to say... I know my attitude has been horrible."
Mark, acknowledging her self-awareness, nodded, his expression turning a bit stern. "Yes, it has been."
Mary continued, her admission coming easier now that she had started. "That alone was enough to warrant a conversation in the office, but the escapade today... it takes the cake."
Mark listened, his sternness softening as he understood the depth of her reflection. "We've tried to be lenient with the attitude because we knew how hard it was for you to stay in bed all day," he admitted. "But understanding doesn't negate the need for responsibility."
Mary looked at him, a newfound maturity in her gaze. "I know. And I'm sorry. For both the attitude and the... escapade. I didn't think about how my actions affected everyone else, not just me."
Mark, hearing the sincerity in her voice, nodded. "It's a hard lesson, but I'm glad you're seeing it now. It's important to us—not just as your brothers but as people who care about you—that you understand the weight of your decisions."
Mary, taking in his words, felt a mix of gratitude and remorse. "I do, Mark. And I'll do better. I promise."
Mark gave her a small smile, the tension fully eased between them. "I know you will. And we'll be here to support you, every step of the way."
--
Two weeks after Mary's ill-advised escapade and the ensuing family turmoil, life at the Shepherd household had gradually returned to a semblance of normalcy. Mary had fully recovered and was back to her duties at the hospital, immersing herself in the world of surgery where she excelled. However, the shadow of the unresolved issues regarding her recent behavior lingered, a silent agreement between Derek and Mark that it was a matter that still required addressing.
Derek, who had been Mary's ride home from the hospital since her clearance for surgery, broached the topic as they neared their house. The atmosphere in the car shifted as he spoke, "As soon as we get home, I want you to go to the study," his voice firm, leaving no room for negotiation.
Mary, who had been enjoying the comfortable silence up until then, felt a knot of anxiety form in her stomach. She opened her mouth to argue, to insist that she had already learned her lesson, but one look from Derek silenced her. His expression was stern, a silent reminder of the gravity of their impending discussion. Reluctantly, she looked down, murmuring a subdued, "Yes, sir."
The drive home was completed in tense silence, both siblings lost in their thoughts about the conversation ahead. Upon arriving, Derek parked the car, and without another word, they made their way inside. Mary, feeling the weight of the upcoming confrontation, proceeded directly to the study as instructed, her steps heavy with apprehension.
The study, usually a place of quiet reflection and work, now felt like the setting for a significant familial reckoning. Mary chose one of the chairs, sitting down and fidgeting nervously as she waited for Derek and Mark. She attempted to rehearse her thoughts, to prepare for what she would say, but found her mind racing with uncertainty.
As Derek and Mark entered the room, the air thickened with a palpable pressure that seemed to settle heavily around Mary, who was already seated, her hands nervously intertwined in her lap. The disappointment etched in Derek and Mark's expressions struck a deeper chord within her than any words of reprimand could have. It was the realization that she had let down the two most important people in her life, her guardians who had stepped into the roles of her parents, that wounded her the most.
Mark closed the door softly behind them, his posture rigid as he faced Mary. The silence that filled the room was heavy, each sibling seemingly bracing themselves for the conversation ahead.
Derek began, his voice laced with a sadness that Mary had seldom heard from him. "Mary, we've been through a lot as a family. You know that. And we've always tried to support each other, to make allowances for the unique stress we all face in our careers. We've given you as much space as we could. But," he paused, searching for the right words, "your actions, the risks you took without thinking of the consequences... it's not just about you. It affects all of us."
Mark nodded in agreement, his usually light-hearted demeanor nowhere to be seen. "What hurts isn't just the fear you put us through," he added, his voice steady but filled with emotion, "it's the disappointment. We thought we'd all learned to rely on each other, to discuss our problems. Not take reckless actions."
Mary's eyes welled with tears, her voice barely a whisper as she responded, "I know I messed up. I didn't think... I just felt so trapped, and I acted without considering how much it would worry you both. I'm so sorry."
The sincerity in her apology was evident, but so was the gravity of her actions. Derek and Mark exchanged a glance, a silent communication between them that spoke volumes of their shared responsibility towards Mary.
Mark's next words were heavy, filled with a reluctant firmness. "Mary, we've talked about consequences before. About how important it is to learn from our mistakes," he said, his gaze never wavering from her face. "And part of learning is facing those consequences."
Derek remained silent, his agreement implicit in his solemn nod.
Mark took a deep breath before continuing, his next words carrying a weight that seemed to fill the room, leaving little space for anything else. "I need you to go get the belt out of the closet."
Mary's heart sank at the implication, her previous apologies and acknowledgments of wrongdoing suddenly feeling inadequate in the face of the impending discipline. She knew arguing was futile; the decision was made, and if both brothers made their mind up about something, it was close to impossible to change the outcome. With a heavy heart, she stood, her movements slow as she prepared to fulfill Mark's request.
She grabbed the belt, holding the leather, almost reverently, in her hands, before turning around and heading back towards the desk. Mark stretched out his hand, wordlessly asking for the implement, while Derek stepped back. Mary gulped, hesitating, before placing the leather into Mark's hand, keeping her gaze on the floor. Mark silently gestured towards the table, moving to stand next to his sister, his heart heavy but determined. Mary, in turn, looked at him, her eyes pleading. "Mark, I promise..."
However, the plastic surgeon's reply was firm. "Now, Mary." With a heavy sigh, the resident bent over the desk, placing her hands on the cool wood and bracing herself for the coming discipline. Mark took a deep breath, steeling himself.
He placed a gentle hand on her lower back, warning Mary. "I am starting, Mare."
That was all the warning she got before the leather landed with a sharp crack, the sound reverberating across the room. Mary gasped, not expecting the sting to be so intense - it had been a while since she was last disciplined. Mark paused for only a second, giving Mary time to recompose herself, before landing the next one, a little lower. Mary groaned softly, dropping her head.
Mark continued the spanking, applying the belt methodically, but making sure to listen to Mary's reactions. Meanwhile, the resident struggled to maintain her composure, the sting building up with every stroke of the belt. A particularly hard strike elicited a whimper out of her, and Mark, unbeknownst to Mary, winced, hating the fact that he was inflicting pain on his sister. Trying to get the ordeal out of the way as quickly as possible, he increased the tempo and the strength behind the belt. The leather started landing with more force, targeting the sensitive sit spots - Mary would feel the belting for days to come every time she decided to sit down.
Mary's reaction was instantaneous - her resolve crumbled as tears began to flow. She sobbed, her head buried in her arms, the pain and the disappointment being too much for her to handle. Mark was quick to respond, dropping the belt.
Mary, tears streaming down her face from the emotional and physical toll of the moment, stood fragile and contrite. Mark, seeing her distress, immediately softened, his earlier sternness giving way to the innate protective instinct he felt towards her. Without hesitation, he pulled her into a comforting hug, enveloping her in a warm embrace that spoke volumes of forgiveness and familial love.
"It's okay, Mary. It's over," Mark whispered, his voice gentle. The sternness that had characterized his demeanor was replaced by a desire to soothe the pain, both emotional and physical, that Mary was experiencing.
Mary, her body wracked with sobs, leaned into Mark's embrace, drawing strength from his presence.
Derek, who had remained silent during the discipline, now stepped forward, his expression softening as he observed the exchange between Mark and Mary. He understood the necessity of what had transpired, the importance of reinforcing the gravity of Mary's actions, but it didn't make it any easier to witness her distress.
"We do this because we care, Mary," Derek said, his voice steady but filled with emotion. "We can't bear the thought of something happening to you. You're too important to us."
Mary, still clinging to Mark, nodded, her sobs beginning to subside as she absorbed Derek's words. The realization that their actions, however harsh they might have seemed, were rooted in a deep-seated fear of losing her, helped to ease the sting of the punishment.
As the tears began to dry and Mary's breathing steadied, the room's atmosphere gradually shifted from one of solemnity to one of healing. Mark finally released Mary from the hug, but kept an arm around her shoulder, a silent promise of ongoing support. "Let's move past this," he suggested, his voice carrying a note of optimism. "We all make mistakes, but you've faced the consequences."
Mary, now calmer, looked between her two brothers, their faces etched with concern but also an underlying love that had guided their actions. "Never again," she affirmed, her voice stronger than before.
As they moved to leave the study, the weight of the day's events behind them, there was a collective sense of closure and a renewed commitment to facing the challenges of the future together, as a family.