- - -
my father used to say this about residency, "it takes a year to learn how to cut. it takes a lifetime to learn not to." of all of the tools on the surgical tray, sound judgment is the trickiest one to master.
- - -
"why do you have to live with the chief of surgery?" mark asks lia as he stands, shirtless peering out of her bedroom door whilst lia watches from her bed. "how am i supposed to sneak out of here? don't your parents ever sleep?"
"my mom's cleaning the house for derek's mother," lia explains, and mark shuts the door then turns around to face her. "she's one of my parents' oldest friends."
"mrs. shepherd's coming?" mark raises his eyebrow at lia. "to seattle?"
"so?" lia chuckles.
"so that woman practically raised me, taught me right from wrong," mark informs her. "and if she found out that i was... with you, that we were... you're richard webber's daughter. you are forbidden fruit. you're twenty four. you're a fetus."
"twenty three," she corrects with a smile.
"i feel dirty," he frowns and lia laughs at his stupidity.
"c'mon," she encourages. "you need to leave."
mark gets himself redressed before sneaking through her house and out onto the porch where he slowly closes the door, in order to avoid making noise. he turns around, confidently, thinking he's made a smooth escape when he comes face to face with richard who is walking up to his front door.
"mark," richard greats, surprised to see him at his door.
"hey, there you are! wanna get a drink?" he asks, stepping away from the door.
"it's four in the morning," richard points out, his brow furrowed.
"yeah, you're right, i probably, uh, should've called first," mark nervously answers. "hey, i hear mrs. shepherd is coming into town. good times."
■ ■ ■
"mark," mrs. shepherd greets when she spots the plastic surgeon in the cafeteria.
"mrs. shepherd," he returns the greeting, avoiding eye contact with her.
"you've been avoiding me," she states.
"what? no," mark answers, placing his hands on his hips as his voice raises an octave.
"you have that same guilty look on your face as you did when you were ten years old and you put derek's favourite frog in the microwave," she informs him.
"i never pressed start," he mumbles, looking at his feet.
"what's going on?" she smiles.
"i'm sleeping with her," he sighs.
"oh, mark!" mrs. shepherd scolds. "not again."
"no, not meredith," he reassures. "god, no. richard webber's daughter."
mrs. shepherd doesn't say anything. she just looks at lia whose sat laughing with callie, and back to mark with a raised brow.
■ ■ ■
lia is standing at the nurses station, organising some patient files when she turns her head to the side to see mrs. shepherd looking at her.
"can i help you with something? were you looking for derek or my father?" lia asks, and mrs. shepherd steps closer, placing her hands on either side of lia's face.
"you're a good girl?" mrs. shepherd says, although it's more of a question than a statement.
"i... what?" lia manages to mumble out.
"a good girl," she repeats. "i don't mean perfect. i mean... relatively speaking. you're a good girl. aren't you, alivia?"
"yes," lia replies, as mrs. shepherd examines every detail of her face.
"how many sexual partners have you had?" she raises her brow. "i won't judge."
"um... six," lia says, screwing up her face slightly with uncertainty. "no, s-seven. k-kinda six. but kinda seven."
"criminal record?" she continues the interrogation.
"speeding ticket," lia reveals, still very nervous.
"how fast?"
"twelve miles over," she admits.
"that's fast," mrs. shepherd says in shock, removing her hands from lia's face.
"well, it wasn't too- it wa- it was way too fast," lia shakes her head slightly then begins to nod in agreement. "but i was- it was downhill and i was- was- i was coasting, ma'am."
"now i don't suppose you can tell me... where the gift shop is?" mrs. shepherd asks, changing the subject dramatically.
"first floor, east wing," she informs her, then mrs. shepherd walks off in the direction of the gift shop.
- - -
and without it, we're all just toddlers running around with ten blades. we're human. we make mistakes. we misestimate. we call it wrong.
- - -
"she's a lovely girl," mrs. shepherd tells mark as they both lean against the nurses station.
"she's a lovely girl," mark agrees. "who's off limits."
"baloney! she isn't the problem. you are," she tells him. "you have very low expectations for yourself, mark sloan. since you were a little boy, you always have. and it's time to raise them."
"she's twenty three," he points out.
"you have the emotional maturity of a horny fifteen year old," she smiles. "you need young. but you need to tell derek. and richard."
"i know," he sighs. "i will."
- - -
but when a surgeon makes a bad judgment call, it's not as simple. people get hurt. they bleed. so we struggle over every stitch.
- - -
"hey," mark greets lia as she's leaving the hospital to head to joe's.
"hey, you," she smiles. "mrs. shepherd interrogated me."
"she did?" he chuckles as lia nods to confirm. "she loved you by the way."
"she did?" lia smiles.
"yeah, she said you're a lovely girl, and that she thinks you're good for me," mark informs her.
"really?" lia asks, shocked as that is not how she felt the interrogation went, and mark nods in response.
"you are perfect for me," he smiles.
- - -
we agonize over every suture because the snap judgments, the ones that comes to us quickly and easily without hesitation, they're the one that haunts us forever.
- - -