Here it is, the main stroy, Shadow of Repentance! I just sat here for five minutes until some sort of a title came to me, so thats it I guess -.-' I might change it later, so don't freak out if the title changes mysteriously one day.

This chapter shows how evil I am. Much of the beginning ish fluffy, but of course then the voices just couldn't stand me writing so much happiness and forced me to make certain unsaid character do totally irrational junk. >. Bear with me.

Yes, long chapter, I didn't lie -gasp- so yesh, muwahaha 2424 words minus a/n. That's like, the same number twice! -zomg!-

Okay, well, read and get it over with then. Mwahaha. Oh and by the way, if you are reading this and have not yet read the Prologue: Sorrow, please read that first, or your brain will most like implode from confusion.

RoyxHughes shounen-ai! -huggles- You have been warned/notified/gleefully informed.

Chapter One: Letter

The scent of tomato soup wafted through the kitchen and into the living room, where Hughes leaned back in a navy blue recliner, which he had claimed for his own despite Roy's meek complaints. He had been boredly watching a fly climb about on his nose, cleaning its antennae. His nose was starting to itch.

When he caught a whiff of the food, his hand snapped up with inhuman speed and grasped the fly by the wings between his thumb and forefinger. It struggled for all it was worth, but it would never be strong enough to take on such a larger creature than it.

Hughes held it in front of his face, glaring at it fiercely. If flies could sweat, there would have been a rather large drop on its face under the pressure of the man's gaze. Which was then broken by an inhumanly large smile, but not so for Hughes.

He stood up and walked over to the open window, reaching his hand out of it before releasing the insect. It buzzed away as fast as its wings could take it.

With that done, Hughes brushed his hands together and made his way towards the kitchen.

Roy stood over a large pot, the thick orange-red soup bubbling inside of it. A white apron covered his front, whereas one hand was fitted snug inside an oven mitt while the other was adorned with one of his ignition-cloth gloves.

He stirred the soup idly with the mitted hand, every now and then adding bits of salt or other spices. It was just about ready when Hughes walked through the door, mid-yawn. Only the door had been closed at the time.

Roy jumped and sighed, placing a hand on his chest.

"Didn't I tell you not to do that while I was cooking?"

Hughes finished his yawn and shrugged, smirking.

"Yeah, and you said not to do it when you were reading, working, cleaning, sleeping, using the restroom-"

Roy blushed ferociously, the thumb and forefinger on his gloved hand pressed firmly together. Hughes waved his hands innocently.

"I told you, I didn't mean to go through the door, I had been leaning on it and just... you know..."

Hughes waved his hand to signify falling. Roy groaned loudly and turned back to the stove, shutting it off.

"Just consider yourself lucky that I had a towel on at the time. Otherwise..."

He snapped and a few sparks flew from his fingers.

Hughes grimaced and shrugged again before walking up behind Roy and leaning up against his back, looking down into the pot. He placed his hands on Roy's shoulders as he leaned farther. Roy stiffened.

"Don't do that when I'm mad at you."

Hughes chuckled.

"Why?"

Hughes gently began massaging Roy's shoulders, slowly pressing his thumbs more firmly against his tensed muscles. Roy moaned and relaxed, placing the spoon he was using to stir on the countertop before he dropped it.

"Because..."

Hughes continued to rub his shoulders before wrapping his arms around Roy, squeezing slightly.

"Sorry, that's not a good enough reason. Besides, I'm hungry."

Roy felt the warmth of Hughes' body leave him as he let go, slinking over to the pantry to scrounge out some bowls. It felt much colder than before without Hughes' body heat, but he ignored that, carrying the pot into the dining room and placing it on the table, then removing his oven mitt and replacing it with his other glove.

After a moment Hughes followed with bowls and utensils, placing them on either side of the table.

Roy sighed and simply looked at Hughes. He looked back, rolled his eyes and walked back into the kitchen, returning with napkins.

After a moment they were sitting across from each other, and Hughes eagerly served himself. Roy followed suit and raised an eyebrow as Hughes crumbled crackers overtop of his soup. He glanced up to look at Roy.

"What? I like crackers in my soup."

Roy smiled one of his true smiles reserved only for a certain few and looked down into his soup, taking a sip. He frowned. Too much salt.

Hughes couldn't help but grin as he sighed in mock annoyance.

"Roy, I told you, your cooking is wonderful! Yet every time you take a bite, you look at it as if it tried to bite your tongue off! Damn perfectionist..."

Roy laughed, the soup sloshing over the side of the spoon and back into his bowl. He placed his spoon back into the soup and reached out, grabbing that bit of hair that spiked out from Hughes' forehead, tugging on it lightly.

"Ow! Hey, cut that out!"

Hughes reached out and groped at Roy's bangs.

"Wha- Hey!"

For the next few minutes they scrabbled about at each other's hair, the soup temporarily forgotten. Afterwards they sat back in their chairs, grins painted on their faces and bits of each other's hair in their fists. Both men's hair was quite mussed.

"Now look Hughes, my hair is a mess. Is this any way for the First Fuhrer to look?"

"Serves you right, you started it. And you should have made me a Fuhrer too."

"Wouldn't it be a bit much to have four Fuhrers?"

"No."

"Yeah, well, I'd really like to finish my soup before it gets cold, if you don't mind."

Despite his words, Roy would have rather messed around with Maes some more, but it would be easier after dinner.

After about thirty seconds they had both finished their soup and had leapt from their chairs as if they were on fire.

"You done too Roy?"

"Of course."

They both set off at a run towards the back door, leaping into the semi-transparent curved-top tent set up outside. As usual Roy entered first, leaping headfirst into the door flap and landing inside. A split second later Hughes followed, landing on top of Roy.

"Ugh! You idiot! Stop doing that! Besides, I know you can easily outrun me. You can even walk through walls for Pete's sake."

"Yeah, but then I'd have to sit in here all by myself for two whole seconds."

Despite Hughes being the larger man, his weight on top of him felt equivalent to a six-year-old's. Roy pushed him off and sat up, brushing himself off. He glanced at Maes rather coldly.

"Oh, I'm sure that would be extremely awful, two days alone in the Ishbal desert couldn't compare to being alone for two seconds in a tent in my backyard."

He spoke with sarcastic malice. Hughes pushed himself into a sitting position, his grin replaced by a concerned frown.

"Roy, I was only joking. Why bring that up now?"

Roy flinched and averted his eye.

"I'm sorry... it's just hard... "

The rest was illegible, muttered under his breath. Hughes took him in his arms and gave him a reassuring squeeze.

"You won't be alone anymore. Even for two seconds."

Roy looked up at him, lifted his hand and placed his index finger on Maes' nose, the fabric of his glove making his nose tingle.

"Idiot. How will you use the bathroom then?"

Hughes tapped a finger on his chin as if he were actually thinking about it.

"Well..."

Roy shoved Hughes' chest with both hands, causing him to fall onto his back.

"Becoming a bit perverted, are we?"

Hughes laughed, scratching his nose.

"Nah, just trying to see if I can freak you out."

"Sure you are."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Mustang lied down next to Hughes, the material of the tent floor cushioned by grass feeling rather comfortable.

"Oh, nothing. Pervert."

Hughes chuckled and placed his hands behind his head, staring up into the sky distorted by the tent ceiling. The sky was becoming a beautiful array of colors as the sun set on the horizon. He turned his head look at Roy, who was also staring at the multitude of colors with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Time to go back in?"

"Mmph."

"What?"

"...Yeah."

Roy managed to pry himself from the comfort of the tent floor and stood up, pushing aside the tent flap as he walked out into the soft glow of the fading sun. He waited there a moment, expecting Hughes embrace him from behind or something of the sort, as usual. Nothing happened.

Roy turned around and peered back into the tent, where Hughes was sitting straight up, a slightly surprised expression on his face.

"Maes?"

"Roy, your doorbell is ringing."

"How...wait, never mind. Be right back."

He lowered the flap and rushed into the house, where he could then faintly hear the doorbell. He reached the door and opened it to reveal a soldier slightly shorter than he, and probably younger, with short blonde hair and large glasses. He held out a white business envelope.

"A message for you, First Fuhrer sir."

Roy glanced at the boy's uniform, and noticed the badge signifying he was with the Central Investigations Bureau. He resisted the urge to bite his lip. He accepted the letter, glancing at the cover, but didn't take the time to read it yet.

"Thank you. Carry on."

"Sir."

The boy left in a military car. Roy shut the door, checked the lock twice out of habit, and walked over to the living room couch. He set himself down and shifted until he was comfortable before looking at the envelope. The address was handwritten, elegant yet simple, controlled. He glanced at the left corner for a return address. There was none. That handwriting looked familiar, however he knew it was nothing like any of his subordinate's handwriting. Riza maybe? No, she would never take the time to write even the slightest bit fancy.

He clenched his teeth, a bit irritated. He knew that handwriting, and it was bugging him for some reason. He took a deep breath and slowly opened it, finding a single handwritten letter inside. He glanced at the date, it was written yesterday. Normally he would read the letter first, but that handwriting...

His gaze fell upon the signature at the bottom, and he felt his heart drop into his stomach and he couldn't breath.

He threw the letter away from him as if it was toxic, and it fluttered to the floor, landing face down on the plush carpet. He swallowed, feeling the sweat already forming on his face. He began to shake, slowly bringing his hands up to hold the sides of his head.

No... think Roy, it can't be her... it must be someone pulling a prank or some kind of sick joke...

Denial.

He knew it; there was no mistaking that handwriting. Even if someone were able to find out about her, it would be just too much of a coincidence for them to have her exact handwriting.

Hughes never had much patience for waiting, and after a few minutes went back into the house as it was starting to become dark. He had heard someone arrive, it had sounded like a delivery, but there had been silence after that.

Maes stepped into the living room to find Roy sitting sideways on the couch with his back to the armrest, his legs drawn against his chest and his head lowered and encased in hands, his knuckles growing white from his tight grip. There was a piece of paper on the floor.

"Roy! What's going on? What happened?

Roy just shook his head, muttering under his breath, refusing to remove his hands.

Maes rushed forward and forced Roy's chin upwards and towards him. He removed his hands and found himself face to face with Hughes. He took a sharp intake of breath when he saw the haunted look in Roy's eyes. Roy stared at him; however Hughes could tell he was only staring through him, whispering bits and pieces of thoughts to himself.

"Roy, damn it, get a hold of yourself!"

And he slapped him once across his right cheek.

Roy blinked and brought a hand up to feel the stinging sensation growing in his face before turning his face to Hughes.

"Maes..."

He caught sight of the letter again and gasped, pushing his legs against the couch and causing himself to fall over the armrest onto the floor. Hughes snaked an arm under Roy's and helped him up, holding him there. He leaned into Hughes; his legs didn't want to support him.

"That letter..."

"Let's go back to the tent, okay?"

"...yeah..."

Hughes stepped over and picked up the letter on his way back to the back door, still supporting Roy. He turned his head as far away from the letter as possible when Maes picked it up, as if afraid to see even the tiniest part of it.

Once they had made it back into the tent, Hughes set Roy down on the floor and plopped down beside him, holding the letter in front of him. He didn't look at it yet. He wanted to hear from Roy first.

"Alright, tell me, what's going on?"

Roy simply glanced at the letter piece of paper before looking away again.

"That letter..."

"Yes, this letter. What about it?"

"The signature..."

Hughes gave a Roy a questioning look before flattening out the letter and looking towards the bottom. He looked mildly surprised.

"Candice K. Mustang?"

Roy flinched, and shivered.

"It can't be her. It can't."

"Why? Who is she? Is she related to you?"

"It's not her!"

Roy jumped to his feet and stumbled backwards a few steps towards the entrance. Hughes stood and took a small step towards him, holding out his hands.

"Roy...calm down... tell me, why can't it be her?"

Hughes flinched, his voice sounded harsher than he had meant. Roy stepped back one more step.

"Because I killed her! I killed my sister!"

He was already running into the house by the time Hughes made it out of the tent.

He couldn't get the images out of his mind; the pain wouldn't go away, he needed an outlet, anything...

Roy ran into the restroom and placed his hands on the tiled wall. He slammed his head into the wall as hard as he could, over and over and over. He couldn't stop, he didn't think he wanted too, or he would have to face it again.

When Hughes made it to the bathroom, he saw Roy sprawled on his back, blood running in thick rivulets from his forehead, seeping into his eyepatch and pooling on the floor. He groaned and moved his head slightly.

"Roy! What happened? Stay with me!"

He looked up numbly, and his vision blurred and faded to white.

"Roy, Don't die!"

He fell into darkness.

End Chapter One

There you have it. The voices at work for that last bit. I was hoping for the first chapter to be just basically happy fluff, but the voices wouldn't have it. AndI told you, I always do what the voices tell me. I think I will name the voices. I think I will name the voice that forced me to write the shite for the last bit of this chapter Foobuggins.

Foobuggins wants you wall to know that if you don't review, he will tell me to connect my hand to your face in a painful way. And use Barry the Chopper's cleaver to chop you up. Dunno how I will get that, but Foobuggins will find a way. Mehehehe. Cleavers are fun.

So yah. Please review. Or Sally will call me deragatory terms. Yes I named another voice Sally. She's the one who insults me and keeps me in my place. -whimper- She's a meany. No I didn't mean it Sally I swear! Hey, that wasn't a very nice thing to say, keep it pg-13!. -continues talking to self-