Author's Note: Alright, so this chapter is a little darker. It will talk about suicide. I know that suicide is an extremely series matter, and I by no means trying to offend anyone. Please leave a review and let me know what you think!

Chapter Twenty Five: The Knife

I am sitting on a log that is around one of the many campfires in camp Jundui, sharpening my sword. It has just begun to get dark outside, and many of the other men have gathered around campfires. I am sitting alone, and a few yards away I see a group of veteran soldiers gathered around another campfire, laughing. Suddenly, one turns his head in my direction. He squints at me as if he is studying me. Pointing to me, he whispers something to another man sitting next to him. The other man nods his head and the first man stands up and begins to walk in my direction.

'Crud' is all I can think. I have only been an officer for a few days and some of the veteran soldiers seem dead set on letting me know how unhappy they are about it. They believe that I am too young and only received my position because of my father's status. I don't let them get to me, as I am used to much worse. Mushu and I always joke that the reason we are such fast runners is that we spent a good majority of our childhood running from bullies. Still, I really would like to avoid confrontation.

As the man gets closer, I bow my head and try to look very focused on sharpening my sword. 'That worked as a kid, right? If I pretended I didn't exist the bullies left me alone? Who am I kidding! That never worked!' And it doesn't work this time either. I hear the man's footsteps grow closer, and then he seats himself across the fire from me. I look at him. "Can I help you?" I ask as evenly as I can.

I watch as a coy smile creeps across his face. "Well, it's nice to see you too, Fa Mulan. Or, what is it you're going by these days? Lieutenant Fa Ping?"

I feel the color drain from my face. My mouth drops open and I stop my work, my entire body freezing in pure shock. The man laughs and it takes him several moments to regain the ability to speak. "You should see your face!" he cries before slapping his leg and again succumbing to his laughing fit.

Finally, the shock wears off and I am able to speak. I sheath my sword and look the man in the eyes. "How do you know my name?"

He laughs again. "Oh come on, kid! I know it's been a few years, but you should be able to recognize your father's old war buddy!"

I study the man closely. I didn't recognize him before, as he was far away and it is beginning to get dark, but now, I finally realize who it is. My face breaks into a smile. "Uncle Heng? Is it you?" Heng is a friend of Father's. They met in the army and fought together for many years until Father left the serves due to his injury. After that, Heng came over often, and as a child, I would call him uncle, as is custom with a close family friend.

"You know it, kid," he replies coolly. "Just drop the uncle part here, okay? Just call me Heng from now on."

"So, you're not going to turn me in?" I question.

He chuckles. "Gods no! Your father is my closest friend! Besides, I like you. You've got spunk." I release a breath I didn't know I was holding. "So then, how did you end up here?"

I shrug. "Father was drafted, but he couldn't fight. I disguised myself to take his place."

"Listen, I know your father, and there is no way on Earth he would ever let his daughter risk her life to save his. He has too much pride and is much too stubborn to allow that. Come on, I know there's something you're not telling me. Now spill." Heng states in a way that shows he won't rest until he knows what's going on.

"Fine," I state, giving in. "I took Father's armor and conscription notice and left in the middle of the night."

"Great plan," he states sarcastically. "Save your father from certain death and kill your mother with a heart attack."

"It's not a joke."

"Of course it's not. Killing one's mother is a very serious matter." I glare at Heng and begin to stand up, intending to leave. I turn away from him, but then something he says catches my attention.

"It's a great plan," he repeats. "But, it's not finished."

I turn around and stare at him. "What are you talking about?"

"Every good plan is like a story: it has a beginning, a middle, and an ending. Right now, you have the beginning: leave home and join the army. You have the middle figured out: keep identity a secret, stay alive. But how does it all end, Mulan? Have you ever thought about that?"

I sit down again. "I have, and there are many possible endings. I guess I just have to wait and see how my story goes."

"But do you have a plan for all of those endings?"

"You sound like a crazy person," I reply.

Heng chuckles. "Says the girl wearing a man's armor. Anyway, say they catch you. What's your plan?"

I'm confused. "Why do I need a plan? If they catch me, they will kill me. It's as simple as that.

"Mulan, since when has anything been simple with you? What if before they kill you, they decide to punish you in another way first? Then what?"

Horrible thoughts flash through my brain as I think about the suggestion Heng has just made. "I would kill myself before they got a chance to do anything like that," I state resolutely.

"I thought you'd say that." I see Heng reach into his pocket. He pulls something out and tosses it to me. I catch it and look at Heng in surprise. In my hands is a small pocket knife. "Trust me," he begins, "slitting your own throat is easier to do with a knife than with a sword."

"Why are you helping me?" I question. "Suicide isn't exactly the sort of thing someone is supposed to support."

He gives me a sad smile. "Sometimes, the Hell we are living in is worse than the Hell we are going to after we die." With that, the man I consider my uncle stands, ready to leave me with the object that might very well end my life one day. For some odd reason, the thought brings relief, not fear. I have one less thing to worry about.

"Heng," he turns to face me, "Thank you."

"Anytime, kid." He pauses as if he is considering something. "Your father raised you right. I'm damn sure of that." And then he is gone. I pocket the knife and make a silent vow to myself. No one will know about this knife. No one will know what it symbolizes, for this knife symbolizes my life ending by my own hand.