A/N: Big apology for the gap in postings (for everything).

Regret.

The oppressive feeling of regret washed over her as soon as she set her new sneakers on the red dirt of the baseball field. And, oddly, freedom- the freedom to lob baseballs at Snow White's head without reprove from her partner or any of the annoying citizens she had brought from the Enchanted Forest to Storybrooke. Honestly, she should have left them there, because if Snow squeaked one more time when the ball sailed harmlessly past her, they were all going to regret it.

It was a curse-able offense, she had long since reasoned. Her former step-daughter was athletic, good with a bow and arrow, but somehow the idea of a baseball flying near her turned the poor girl into shrieking, squealing mess. And it was exhausting.

Regina set up on the pitcher's mound, subtly adjusting the fit of her newly purchased black polo shirt and jeans while Emma coached her mother on the proper way to hold the bat at home plate. It was a useless but thoughtful gesture, the mayor mused as she tossed the ball to Henry, who stood at first base with a bored expression crossing over his face.

This clearly was not the one-on-one practice the boy had been anticipating when he requested her help in preparing for the next big game. But, if the unholy powers of Snow White's shrieks were to be quelled, it would take more than the power of true love, which eliminated the need for Prince Charming to stand by and root for the princess; it would take the combined powers of the Evil Queen and Savior to get Snow to even the levels of Dopey, the butter-fingered dwarf, never mind suitable to play against Maleficent and Hook.

"Eek!"

Regina couldn't help but roll her eyes. She hadn't even thrown the ball anywhere near the girl!

"It's ok, mom. Just choke up on the bat this time. The ball won't hit you, probably." Emma paused and trailed her eyes over the mostly empty field, searching for a rogue crow or pigeon that might prove her wrong. She tossed the ball to Henry, forcing the boy to pay attention to the practice session instead of whatever bug had settled on his shoelaces. "Regina's going to throw the ball nice and easy until you get it, ok?"

"Emma," Snow began. "I'm not so sure about this. Maybe Ruby is right. I could hand out refreshments at the next game and someone else could take my place on the team."

"Eek!"

Emma scowled at the ball that barely missed her thigh before she turned her gaze on the pitcher responsible for said ball. Her fiancée looked innocent enough, but there was something about the altogether too innocent expression she had donned that let Emma know she was guilty as sin. That, and Henry was too busy counting the threads on his own ball. "Could you hold the flying projectiles, Regina?"

Regina shrugged in response to the request, and called Henry over from his place of butterflies and red dirt. With a quick overview of how to throw a decent pitch, she collected one of the stray balls that had been tossed back to her after an unsuccessful hit and handed it to the boy. "Aim for the center of the plate, Henry," she instructed with a hopeful thought directed between her son's notable clumsiness and Snow's hard head.

"Is grandma ready?"

"It doesn't matter at this point, dear. Just practice your pitch and let Emma worry about your grandmother's lack of batting skills."

With a tight frown, Henry geared up for the pitch, mimicking the motions both of his mothers went through before they took aim over home plate. He could do this. As long as a bird didn't distract him like it had Emma, he could do this. After all, it couldn't be that hard if his mom had picked it up so easily. Though, he reminded himself, she was well used to throwing fireballs and the largest thing he had thrown in recent memory was a balled up piece of trash, and even then it had landed well outside of the trash can.

"Eek!"

"I didn't even have the chance to throw the ball," Henry said, confused as he straightened and dropped the ball to the ground. "This is lame."

"That's because your grandmother is as useless today as she was as a princess frolicking around the castle," Regina responded dryly, and not without a bit of cruelty towards the memory of the foolish child she had been forced to raise. "The only time she presented any sort of promise was when I-"

The boy glanced up, unsure of why his mother had trailed from her statement. Until-

"Holy shit! Regina, no magic! No fireballs! Bad Queen!"

Emma hopped from foot to foot, eluding the smoke that fluttered about her worn sneakers, all the while aiming confused and worried glances across the field to where Regina stood looking as bored as she had ever seen her. Without a word, she stormed across the last traces of magic that lingered on the ground until she reached the pitcher's mound and the smirking sorceress. "What the hell was that about? You could have killed us!"

Regina rolled her eyes. "If I wanted to kill you, I would have. Please, Emma, don't insult me again by insinuating I can't control my magic. I merely wanted to remind my step-daughter that there's no need to scream over a baseball when there are more evil forces at work."

"Oh, is that all?" The blonde scowled and kicked at the dirt in frustration. "Stop using magic, Regina, to intimidate people, especially my mother. We want her on our side, not thinking up plans to break us up because you can't keep your damn twitchy magic fingers from committing arson to public property." With a deep inhale of dusty air, Emma released it and shrugged her shoulders low. She bounced on her toes for a long minute, cocked her head to the side, and then said, "Switch with her. There's no way I'm going to be able to convince her you aren't using this as an excuse to try to kill her now."

"I wasn't trying to kill her," the former queen huffed as she crossed the field. "I merely wanted to remind her-"

"That the ball isn't scary," Snow finished for her. "If you wanted to kill me, you would have done it years ago when I offered you my heart. I know that, and, on some level, Emma knows that, too. I think she just wanted us to...oh, I don't know, get along?"

Regina glanced back to where Emma was showing their son her latest and greatest pitching moves, and with a conspiratorial glance to the woman beside her, she said, "Do you think we should let her know that you come to my office for lunch every Thursday?"

The princess looked every bit affronted as if Regina had asked if she wanted to shoot Bambi and come over for deer stew later in the week. Then, her expression turned blank as she considered the proposition. What harm would it do for Emma to know that the great enemies were much more friendly (not friends, no) than they had been for several decades. "Maybe we shouldn't tip our hand just yet."

"Perhaps not. I do enjoy her being so thoroughly confused," Regina revealed with a soft smile directed at the blonde woman in the middle of showing off to the boy who just wanted to spend some time learning how to improve his skills, instead of watching and waiting for his family to figure out their issues without resorting to name-calling and magic. "And fired up. All of that passion-"

"Still her mother," Snow interrupted quickly and with a jerky wave of her hand. "I don't need to hear about...the passion," she finished lamely, shaking her head firmly as if the mere action would rid herself of the thoughts. Conversations with Regina had been considerably easier after the trip to Neverland, even more so after Henry had been returned to his mothers' care, but that did not mean she condoned the two women keeping their relationship a secret for so long. For nearly four months, she had ventured into the mayor's office at Town Hall without so much as a pen for protection to have lunch, and yet Regina couldn't find a way to insert, "I'm dating your daughter," into the conversation?

"We should probably-"

Regina nodded swiftly, raising her voice until it carried over the field "You and your imbecilic husband, the two idiots. It's a wonder you've lasted more than ten minutes here without running to his side, screaming about how you will always find each other."

That remark had a bit of a bite to it, but Snow continued on her way without so much as a frown in place. Though, she did have to wonder how long Regina had been waiting to use that particular barb. Without a word, she accepted Emma's worn glove and the ball Henry had been tossing around.

"So, you just throw it," Emma advised, distracted by the wiggle Regina had perfected since the last game as she prepared to swing the bat. "And don't hit the batter. Or anyone else." Truthfully, it didn't matter what her mother did; she wanted to see if Regina could reproduce what she did before and hit the ball.

"I think I caught that from what we've been doing for the past hour, Emma." And with that, Snow threw the baseball with all her might, aiming more for the outside of the plate than anything else.

Thunk!

That was it. There were over three hundred channels subscribed to by the Mills family and Emma was going to add her own when they got home- the MLB station. If it worked for the Evil Queen, then it would work for the savior and, hopefully, Snow White.