Chapter 1: A Walk Through Town

September 18, 1931

Central City, Amestris

Roy Mustang had rarely been given free time now that he was the Führer of Amestris. When he had the opportunity, however, he immediately took it. The extra days off of work had given him a chance to spend some time with his family, so that's exactly what he'd planned to do.

Today, he had decided to spend some time with his eldest son, Maes. He'd pulled his son out of school for the day, much to Maes' excitement, and decided to take a walk with him down the bustling streets of Central City. Of course, there were guards posted everywhere, all keeping a close eye on the Führer and his son. They'd figured it'd be safer if the guards weren't all surrounding the pair, as they were doing their best to not draw too much attention. Roy had changed into more casual clothes, a white button-down with a dark blue overcoat and black slacks, while Maes still wore his school uniform, a three-piece suit with a white shirt, black pants, and a dark green jacket.

As they walked down one of the more empty streets of the city, Roy couldn't help but smile at his young son, who looked almost exactly like his father, save for the almond-colored eyes he'd inherited from his mother. The thirteen year old boy had taken a strong interest in alchemy and constantly begged his father to teach him flame alchemy. Maes had seemed to be the only one of Roy's three children who had expressed any interest in alchemy at all. His daughter, Kasey, who was only eleven years old, was the spitting image of her mother, and even shared her personality - stubborn and menacing. The youngest of all the Mustang children, Max, was five years old and mainly played with toy soldiers, ordering everyone to refer to him only as "General Mustang, sir!" His parents somewhat suspected that he was going to want to join the Amestrian State Military once he was of age. But that was a talk for another day.

Maes stopped in front of one of Central City's most famous candy shops and looked at his father with eager eyes. "Dad, look!" He exclaimed. "I bet they have those taffies that we got last time! Can we go inside? Please?" Roy frowned slightly. He knew Maes' mother would not be happy if she found out Roy had not only pulled the boy from school, but had also allowed him to eat sugar before he had even eaten lunch.

Maes noticed the expression on his father's face and knew exactly what he was thinking. "Mom doesn't have to know," he said, his voice almost a whisper. "I'm great at keeping secrets!" He smiled, putting his fists on his hips and puffing his chest out proudly. Roy knew that was a lie. Maes was terrible at keeping secrets and everyone knew it.

Roy knew he couldn't say no to his son - that was one thing Riza always scolded him for. He sighed in defeat. "Sure, go ahead. I'll just have to face your mother's wrath later."

Maes beamed, immediately bounding over to the doors of the shop. "Don't worry, I won't tell!" Roy shook his head and laughed lightly, knowing that his wife would find out anyway, whether Maes told her directly or not.

He wasn't surprised to find that many customers inside of the shop were already staring at the pair when they entered. Word had traveled fast once the people had heard that the Führer and his son were going to be wandering the streets of the city today. Maes certainly hadn't noticed their gazes as he eagerly began searching for his favorite candies. As the young boy disappeared into one of the aisles, Roy glanced around the shop, searching for any sign of danger. His eyes flickered across the back wall and he found that two guards had already snuck into the shop and were keeping a close eye on the Führer and his son. Roy breathed a small sigh of relief, just as his son called out for him.

"Found them!" Maes yelled, stepping out of the aisle and into his father's view. He held up a small bag of chewy green candies, each individually wrapped inside the bag.

Roy eyed the candies, debating if he was really willing to risk his life for his son's happiness. The apple taffies were Maes' favorite, and Roy really couldn't say no to the pleading brown eyes that matched his mother's so well. With another sigh, Roy reached into his pocket and fetched his wallet, pulling out 500 cenz for Maes to pay for the taffies. The boy snatched the money from his father's hand and quickly made his way over to the cashier. Roy noticed that a certain guard, one of those he had seen standing against the back wall of the shop, never took his eyes off of the thirteen-year-old boy.

That was certainly a perk of being the Führer; his family was always being carefully watched and protected by trained officers. However, it also brought many dangers. As the Führer, both his and his family's lives were constantly at risk. He kept himself alert as he followed his son's trail to the cashier's counter. As he approached, the cashier glanced up at him and smiled as she took the money from Maes, who had a satisfied grin plastered on his face.

"Good morning, Your Excellency," she said, smiling at him. Roy returned it, glancing down at his son.

"I hope he hasn't caused too much trouble," the Führer began, ruffling the young teen's hair. "He always begs to come in here."

"Oh, he's been no trouble at all!" The young woman smiled once more. "I offered to give him the candies for free, but he insisted that he pay for it."

Maes grinned proudly up at his dad, who patted him on the shoulder. Roy and his wife had taught his children from a young age that they were not superior to Amestrian civilians simply because they were the kids of the Führer; they should be leading by example.

The clerk handed the change back to Maes, beaming brightly at the both of them. "Have a wonderful day, you two! Come back soon!"

Roy let out a laugh as he followed his son to the door. "I'm sure we will, thank you."

As the two exited the shop, Roy quickly glanced around to check for MPs standing guard outside. He found a few scattered somewhat discreetly along the shops and streets, and he knew that the two guards from inside the candy store would soon follow them outside, keeping a watchful eye on them from behind.

Maes was already rambling to his father, something about a new girl he met at school, as soon as they stepped outside. He was working deftly to remove one of the small candies from the bag and unwrap it before popping it into his mouth.

Roy hated to admit that he was hardly listening to the boy. He just couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. The atmosphere around him felt malicious, but he couldn't seem to spot anything or anyone out of place. Roy scanned his eyes across the numerous people sitting outside of the cafe they were passing by, but none of them seemed to have any malicious intent. Maes was still chattering about something excitedly, but Roy could no longer tell what the topic was. He glanced once more at the officers around them, wondering if they had noticed the strange feeling as well. They stood alert, but not in the way that Mustang had expected, and they were showing little to no emotion on their faces.

Roy fidgeted, feeling in his pockets to make sure his ignition gloves were there, even though he had made sure to triple-check that he'd had them before leaving with Maes. He internally debated whether he should put them on, just to be safe. They didn't have any transmutation circles on them - he hadn't needed those since he'd been forced through the Gate on the Promised Day - so they would appear to be normal gloves to foreign eyes. He knew it would worry his son, though, who knew exactly what the gloves were and would immediately be frightened by potential surrounding dangers if his father were to put them on.

Suddenly, something in the air shifted, and he stopped walking, immediately pulling a glove from his pocket. Maes' rambling ceased as he slowed to a halt next to his father.

"Dad?" Maes asked, concern evident in his voice as he glanced down at the familiar white glove that his father was already sliding onto his hand. Maes pocketed the bag of candies in his own hand and fiddled with the hem of his jacket nervously. "What's wrong?"

Roy fetched the other glove from his pocket as well and was just about to turn around when a loud crack split through the air from behind him. He felt himself jolt forward in what he'd assumed was out of pure shock and his mind raced, instantly recognizing the sound as a gunshot, likely from a sniper rifle. Everything seemed distant as he whipped his head around to check if Maes was okay, desperately hoping that the boy hadn't been hurt, but he found that the young boy was staring with wide eyes at his father's abdomen. Roy frowned, glancing down at himself to see what caused the horrified look on his son's face.

The contrast of the dark red blood seeping out of his stomach against his stark white dress shirt made Roy let out a shaky breath as his mind slowly registered what had happened. He'd been shot. Someone was trying to assassinate him.

And it seems, he thought darkly as his vision began to blur, that they've succeeded.

Maes moaned in horror as he watched his father's legs give out from underneath him as his mind caught up with the events. The Führer collapsed to his knees, eyes rolling back into his head in what seemed like hours to Maes, but was really only a few seconds. His own body began moving before his mind could produce a single thought. He grabbed ahold of his father, wrapping his arms around his bloody torso, before the man's head could slam onto the concrete beneath them. Guards were immediately at his side, helping to steady the fallen ruler as Maes desperately began screaming for someone to call for help.

"Help! He needs help!" Maes shrieked, glancing around wildly at the citizens who had gathered around them in a panic. "He's going to die! Please! Call someone! Anyone! Please! Call - call an ambulance! Call Mom!"

A warm wetness coated Maes' arm, catching his attention for a moment. He peeled his arm away from his father's stomach, keeping his other arm wrapped around the man's back, where even more blood was pouring out. Maes' usually green sleeve was now darkened to a color that closely resembled black, and there was also a significant amount of blood covering both of his hands. The sight of it made Maes want to puke. The entire situation made Maes want to puke.

He felt himself suddenly being pulled away from his father by a pair of strong arms, and he thrashed wildly in an attempt to escape their grasp.

"NO! Let me go! He needs help! I need to help him! He- I need to-"

Maes' breathing became short and quick, and he found it difficult to take in enough oxygen as he clawed at his father's coat, desperately trying to hang onto him. He was easily pulled away and taken only a few feet away from the scene, where he was turned around and a pair of calming blue eyes met his own panicked brown ones.

"He- he needs-" Maes gasped out, wiping at the tears he'd hardly noticed until now. The strong hands on his shoulders gripped him tightly, and the owner of them spoke calmly yet firmly.

"Sir, take a breath," the man said. He was wearing the uniform grey outfit that all military police officers were required to wear. "All Amestrian soldiers and officers are carefully trained to act in the... in the event that the Führer is injured." The officer made sure to choose his words carefully in front of the already frightened boy. The Führer wasn't going to die, but he didn't need Maes to think that.

"An ambulance has already been called," he continued. "And your mother is being contacted as we speak. We'll take you to the hospital with your father and you can meet with her there."

The thirteen-year-old's breathing was beginning to slow to a more regular pace. He tried to look over his shoulder at his father lying unconscious on the ground, but the officer quickly turned him away.

"You don't need to see that right now," the officer said. "Just know that we're doing all that we can to keep him safe."

An unusual anger boiled up inside of Maes. Safe? This was far from safe. If these officers were really trying to keep his father safe, then none of this would have happened. He balled up his fists tightly as more tears began to flow down his cheeks. All he could do was nod before the officer carefully led him away, taking him to a black car that was parked on the street, not far from where Roy had been shot. Maes briefly wondered if this particular officer had been one assigned to protect them on their walk around town, or if he had been called to the scene after the incident.

He couldn't stop himself from sneaking a glance at his father as he walked. His heart lurched at the sight of his father lying on his back as an officer pressed a bundled-up coat against the bullet wound and barked orders at the other officers, who immediately sprung into action at the man's words. Blood was pooling out from underneath the Führer as well, as he'd been shot from behind.

The car door opened and the officer helped Maes into the backseat, while Maes' eyes never tore away from the bloody figure on the ground. Sirens could be heard as an ambulance arrived on the scene, with two paramedics jumping out and rushing to the Führer, while another retrieved a stretcher from the back of the ambulance.

He silently pleaded to God - or whatever existed outside of their world - to keep his father alive. He simply couldn't bear to lose his father, and the country couldn't afford to lose its ruler. Maes furiously wiped at his tears the paramedics gathered around his father, blocking his view. The door closed beside him and all sound seemed to halt. He found that he could no longer hear the panicked cries of citizens, or the strict orders from the officers. All that was left was his ragged breathing, and he did his best to calm himself down. He had to stay strong, not let himself be consumed by the darkness of today's events.

As the car started, Maes could hear the voice of a radio spokesperson informing listeners about the fall of the Führer. No, Maes thought. Not the fall. The Führer couldn't die, he just couldn't. He had too much to do for his family, for his country. Maes knew that they would just have to hope - and pray - that the Führer of Amestris; the Flame Alchemist; the Hero of Ishval, could survive a bullet.

A/N: Thanks for reading! This is a rewritten version of my old story from 2015 called "Survive", so if it seems familiar, then that's why. My writing has improved a lot since then and I've fleshed out the story more, so I wanted to give it another go. I'm going to try to write the next few chapters as quick as possible, so stay tuned! Feel free to leave a review - positive comments and constructive criticism are welcome!