willow141 prompted: do you think you could write when snow find Regina after she killled Leo please ?
Warning: Contains mentions of murder, violence and past rape, child abuse & incest.
The elevator dings as the doors open on the 6th floor. Mary Margaret steps off, a bag from Mr. Cluck's swinging from her wrist. Normally they try to eat healthier than this but it's a Friday night. After a long week of dealing with uppity parents and unruly teenagers, Mary Margaret really needs some fried goodness. She's especially looking forward to the cornbread on the side, ready to slather it with enough butter that she'll need all of her large ice tea to wash it down.
As she heads down the hallway, her son's laughter radiates through 6C. He gets along so well with Nicholas and Ava, which is a blessing. Mary Margaret and Regina sometimes don't get home until late. Michael and Dory are more than happy to look after him. In return, they watch the twins on any weekend shifts they may have. She's just glad that Henry has some good friends that are respectful and nice. She didn't have too much of that growing up.
She thinks about what the rest of the night will hold. Henry should come home from the Zimmer's soon and they can eat. Maybe they'll have a family movie night or play a board game. After Henry goes to bed, she wants to open a bottle of wine and talk with Regina more about a second child. For so long, they were content with just Henry. Emma always said she'd be willing to act as their surrogate again, but they didn't take it seriously. And then Regina brought up trying again. Mary Margaret isn't sure if she's a hundred percent either way, but she's up to discussing it.
She reaches her own apartment and sticks her hand into her lime green handbag to grab her keys. Her eyes focus on the door, realizing it's already slightly ajar. Mary Margaret frowns, pushing it forward. Had Regina forgotten to shut it behind her? Kicking off her shoes and setting her bags on the entry table, Mary Margaret quickly closes the door behind her and puts on the deadbolt. Her wife's Marc Jacobs briefcase is hung neatly on the rack, her Manolo Blahniks slid under the table.
"Regina?" she calls out. No response. "Princess?"
Still nothing. A sinking feeling takes over Mary Margaret's stomach. The apartment is quiet, eerily so. No signs of the shower running or even Regina doing something in the kitchen. Even with their 9-year-old son down the hall, there should be some noise.
She makes a turn into the den and finds them. The man she hasn't seen in nearly 12 years, the one she once called "Daddy". He lays against the floor. His forehead is horribly disfigured, a huge gash ruining the carefully selected rug. Matted gray hair sticks against the blood, a far cry from how much he once carefully styled it.
"Presentation is everything, darling."
The hands he once used to violate her body are clenched tightly. His dark eyes rolled in the back of his head. MLB's logo imprinted into the gash is practically a glowing signal.
Regina didn't want to keep a gun in the apartment. But she did always insist on a baseball bat in the living room. It looks like a collector's item to some, protection if anyone ever broke in. They were never supposed to actually use it.
Mary Margaret's wide eyes travel up to Regina. Her fingers tightly clench the Louisville Slugger that's splattered with blood, her father's blood. Harsh bruises take form on her neck. Regina stares down at the body, no emotion registered on her face. She doesn't shake or cry. She's a statute. For a moment, Mary Margaret wonders if she wandered into an exhibit. This is an example of her worst nightmare.
"Regina," she whispers.
The bat slowly slips from her grasp, falling with a clink on the hardwood floor. Regina's head snaps up and the tears spring to her eyes.
"Snow," her voice breaks. "Oh my God, Snow."
Regina runs straight into Mary Margaret's arms. The latter woman holds her tight, her eyes still on the body.
"He…he knocked and I…I…I told him to leave…he…he started ch…choking me…" Regina sobs into her shoulder. Mary Margaret's eyes remain on the body. There's a dead body in her living room. Her mind hasn't had the time to fully process it yet as Regina blabbers on. "I…I can't…I didn't…he's…is he?"
Mary Margaret carefully pries Regina off of her and drops to her knees beside her father. She watches, waiting for any sign of life. His stomach remains still. She has vivid memories of his horrid snoring traveling through the walls of their penthouse on the Upper East Side. If he were asleep, they'd know it. Without touching his body, Mary Margaret knows.
Her voice comes out steady, unbreakable. Mary Margaret's father is dead in front of her, at the hands of her wife and she has no emotion. "He's dead."
Regina chokes out a half gasp/half sob. "Oh my God, Oh my God!" She starts fumbling through her pockets.
"What are you doing?"
Regina grabs her phone, her trembling fingers putting in her password. "The police…"
Mary Margaret leaps into action, smacking the iPhone from her hands. It falls case down onto the floor. A photo of the two with Henry on their vacation to Gettysburg smiles up at them. "No!" Regina looks from the phone to her, confusion etched on her face.
"It was self-defense," she says. "He was attacking me, threatening me…"
"And what proof do we have of that? Even then, you're a Puerto Rican woman with a record," Mary Margaret says.
Regina shakes her head. "That was a long time ago and the expunged it from my record."
"I don't trust them, Regina. Henry can't lose you. Neither can I."
Regina bites her lip, her eyes going back down at Leopold's body. Mary Margaret refuses and scoops Regina's phone off the floor. She unlocks it and writes a quick text to Dory, asking for her to keep Henry for the night. It only takes a few moments for her to reply "of course".
"What do we do then?" Regina whispers. "We can't just leave him here."
Mary Margaret slides her wife's phone into her pocket. She doesn't trust her to not do something stupid. "We wait until later tonight," she says, her voice still steady. "Once everyone is probably asleep. We'll take him down the service elevator and down to the garage. My dad owns this cottage in Poughkeepsie."
"Is that where he taught you to hunt?"
Mary Margaret nods. "It's surrounded by woods, pretty isolated. We bring him far back enough and bury him."
"Mary Margaret, are you…"
"It's the only way," Mary Margaret interrupts. "I'm not going to let you go to jail."
"But the rug…the bat…"
"I'll take care of it. Dory says she'll keep Henry for the night."
Regina stares at her for a moment, her mouth ajar to say something. Mary Margaret fixes her with another, daring her to argue. What is the alternative? Their options are so limited at this point.
Finally, Regina gains composure. "Do you have keys to the cottage? We're going to need a place to shower and change when we're done."
"That's too much evidence to get rid of. We'll get a hotel, pay with cash. Leaves little trail."
They destroy the bat before burning it in a small fire behind the cottage. Leopold's body is heavy, literally dead weight, as they drag it through the woods. Mary Margaret silently thanks herself for getting back into the gym and weight lifting. Her archery lessons that she partook in up until college have to help. They walk for a half hour, not too far to get lost, but far enough where anyone would accidentally stumble upon it. They're both wearing gloves and Mary Margaret scrubbed him to get any evidence away.
Regina guards the body as Mary Margaret digs a hole. In the autumn air, her body freezes beneath her oversized rain jacket. Her breath is visible, dancing before her every time she lets out a sigh or leans against the shovel for a break. It's another half hour of digging and shaking out her arm. They're going to be sore in the morning.
With her wife's help, Mary Margaret deposits her father into the deep hole. He collapses with little grace, head first. That wound is definitely going to get infected.
"Good," Mary Margaret whispers.
Regina covers the body with the dirt and Mary Margaret adds a few rocks so it doesn't look like anything was disturbed. They silently make their way back to the cottage. The gloves, their jacket and the tarp are all burned. Mary Margaret collects their boots and the shovel in a separate garbage bag, she can dispose of them in the dumpster behind their apartment building. By the time anyone finds Leopold, if they ever do, these will be long decomposing at some dump upstate.
Neither say a word as they drive to the hotel Mary Margaret found. She does her best to clean up in the car and slides on a new pair of shoes before asking for a room. It's well after 3 in the morning and the exhausted receptionist doesn't seem to care as she accepts the crisp hundred-dollar bills to reserve a room. She doesn't question the fake name Mary Margaret gave or even ask for a card to be put on file in case of an emergency. Either she's new or she just doesn't care.
They make it up to the room, Regina trailing behind. She's exhausted. Mary Margaret probably won't sleep for days.
"You can shower first," Regina offers. It's the first words they've exchanged in the four hours since they left their apartment.
Mary Margaret nods. "Okay."
She makes her way into the bathroom and slowly undresses. Her Yale sweatshirt hits the tile, followed by jeans she should probably get rid of. She folds everything neatly, placing her Nikes on top of them.
It's only then she allows herself to look in the mirror. Her dark hair tied back in a ponytail. Dirt smudged across her left cheek. A few drops of Leopold's blood stain her arm. Her father's blood. They already share DNA, but now his blood is staining her skin. It's not enough all the ways he violated her throughout her entire childhood, he has the nerve to leave this.
Her father is dead. He can't hurt her again. She walked away from him at 22 and tried not to look back. He's tried to pop up now and again, but she shut it down. He'd never meet her son, if she had it her way, he never would've gotten close to Regina. How did he even get past the door? There's no guard or anything, but you have to enter a code. How long had he been following her or her family to figure it out?
She's been looking over her shoulder for years, waiting for him to come back and ruin the life she started for herself. She's known he'd show up one day. She was prepared.
Nothing could get her ready for this.
Leopold is dead. Her rapist is gone. He will never lay a hand on her or Regina again.
Mary Margaret turns on the sink and then crumples, slowly falling against the sink and then allowing her naked body to sit on the floor. A sob escapes her lips, tears spilling down her cheeks. She buries her face into her still freezing hands, letting out a muffled scream. Just as she did every time he entered her bedroom at night, drunk.
Her father is dead.