Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the characters and likenesses thereof. This is a fan-made work created purely for entertainment, and I am not in any way affiliated with the author or publishers. In other words: It's not mine! I'm just having fun with it!

A/N: Howdy y'all! This here is a nice angsty little one-shot. Enjoy!

She often thought about her Daddy as she grew up.

The hugs, the kisses, the bedtime stories, the endless photos… none of these were lost in the crystal clear memories she was determined to retain of him no matter what.

Sometimes, at night, she ran them through her head, seeing every color, feeling every caress as he stroked her hair and whispered silly little nursery rhymes in her ear that inexplicably lulled her to sleep no matter what they were actually about. She remembered how shocked she'd been when someone had taken the time to explain the origins of "Ring Around the Rosy" to her, but the nursery rhymes were really about his voice anyway. Soft, gentle, silly even, his voice had come to her every night as his hands tucked her in, head leaning in to kiss her forehead adoringly.

The clarity of these memories was imperative, of course, because there would be no more to replace them as they became fuzzy with age; there would be no more bedtime stories filled with magical make-believe, no more running around in the park, no more photos… no more laughter.

Not surprisingly, the memories she wanted least stood out with the greatest insistence: the box, the box where they'd put her Daddy, the hole, the hole they'd put the box in, the dirt, the dirt that had covered him up forever, the way she'd cried for them to stop, the way her pleas had made the adults cry even harder…

Sometimes she thought about the person who had killed him. She wondered who he was, what he was like, why he had killed her darling Daddy.

Sometimes she saw him dangling from a meat hook over a vat of acid. Sometimes he tripped over marbles and broke every bone in his body falling down stairs. Sometimes he burned in a fire for hours before gasping his last breath. Sometimes he hung from a rope, eyes glazed over as crows circled in to eat them now that the humans attendant at his execution were gone.

Sometimes he was a shadowy figure with crazed wide eyes and a wider grin. Sometimes he was a grim, quiet hitman. Sometimes he laughed as he killed her father. Sometimes he cried, although she could not imagine why he would. Someone who could kill her Daddy could not possibly be sorry about it. He had to be evil.

She grew older, and she realized that the adult world was much more complicated than simple good and evil, wasn't it? The way she had imagined him before was wrong, of course. No human being was like that entirely.

Sometimes she imagined meeting him, this person who killed her Daddy. She would slap him so hard that his cheek would turn red. No, she would punch him right in the nose, savoring the crunch as it broke under her fist. No, she would shoot him like he had her daddy, laugh at him as his eyes dimmed in death, smile in the knowing that justice had been served.

She grew older, and she realized that she would do none of those things. What was the use of them anyway? None of them would bring her darling Daddy back. All of them would make him disappointed. Some might even make him cry.

No, she would do none of those things, but what would she do? It took even longer for that answer to come to her heart.

She would stand tall before him. She would look him directly in the eyes. She would speak to him, hoping beyond hope that her voice was not trembling. She would ask him one question.

"Why… why did you kill my Daddy?"

And he would answer. After all, he would have no reason not to. It was only human decency.

A/N: Review, my lovely ones! I know you have opinions! Review!