A/N: Mulan is Disney's property. For a friend. Happy birthday, you're the Chien-Po to my Mulan (jk it's the other way round)

The later bit of the movie, inside Shang's head.

"For what it's worth"

She is the first person who respects him, for being himself. Not the son of the General, not another fruit to be picked off a family tree that has its roots holding him in a chokehold. He thinks about the other boys in the scholar's academy, how they had treaded so carefully around him, wary yet in awe of a title he only inherited, not earned. They only ever addressed him as "Li Shang". Never "Shang", never a fellow classmate, an equal, a friend. He thinks about the other men on the war council, how their eyes shift to his father when he delivers a new attack plan, the annual weaponry proposals, monthly training reports. They always nod and agree and sign the papers and say "a worthy idea, captain", but their gaze is still trained on the General, unmoving. He thinks about the army clerks who bow when he walks past, the junior soldiers who salute him during inspections, the kitchen staff serving his rice in the mess hall. He thinks about how they never look him in the eye, how their fear and resentment radiates in waves that still hit like typhoons, their faces always turned away.

She is the first person who doesn't walk on eggshells around him, the first person who doesn't hold back, and this he equates with respect. She doesn't believe in formalities, and he finds he prefers it this way - when she speaks to him, (about anything – the panda spotted amongst the bamboo, the huge fish she caught earlier in the day, Ling's new joke routine, more teasing about the chess match he lost to her) he is sure he has never felt more grounded, more human. She is braver than most army generals; with a mouth quick to laugh and shout, her emotions splashed upon her face in bold strokes like a daring work of art – she is all open palms and bright eyes. He thinks of the first time he travelled alone out of the capital city, of an endless blue sky and of mountains basking bare in sunshine. No mist - just solid, honest rock.

He should fear her open-mindedness, her disregard for rules, for order, for tradition. She is trampling on everything he has ever known. She is like nothing he has ever known. She is defiant to the point of disbelief, for what kind of woman would sign herself up for a war? Yet he finds he accepts the truth almost as suddenly as it had ambushed him. The truth is not the curve of her waist, the slight swell of her chest, the gentle slopes of her shoulders, or anything that marks her as a woman. These are facts, and the truth is that somewhere along the way, his world shifted, and now she is his axis.

When her three friends sprint to join her at the pillars of the palace, she is laughing, face glowing, hair sweeping the base of her neck and he is overcome with the urge to touch her, to make sure this is real. He taps her shoulder, unties his cape and manages a smile when he really means to say, "forgive me". She does in a heartbeat anyway, and there is this look that flickers across her face as her eyes meet his that makes his chest flood, full and heavy with something other than his armour (and he thinks this might be hope). They scale the walls and he thinks she is the only one who can teach him to defy gravity.

When he watches her glide down from the roof, with fireworks lighting up the night sky behind her and the usurped lanterns floating free around her, he forgets how to breathe. Moments later, he actually does stop breathing as she crash-lands on top of him. He thinks that perhaps good things can fall from the heavens and into his lap (or on his back, a mess of elbows and knees whacking him across the shoulders). She tumbles into him, they are a tangle of limbs, and for a glorious few seconds, he is holding her in her arms. She gets up, flustered, cheeks as red as ripe peaches and she is most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

She is named the hero of China and he swells with pride. She stops in front of him. Her bashful smile fades into something a little more sombre. He isn't really sure if it is expectation he sees in her eyes but he thinks that maybe it is, because the corners of her lips drop when all he chokes out is "you fight good". He can't help it, not really, not when she has him fixed under her gaze, shy and tongue-tied like a schoolboy with his first love. It is only after he has watched her ride away from him and disappear behind the city gates that he wakes from his stupor and rushes to the archives to look up the Fa address in the imperial records.

He ends up in a garden, a nervous wreck, but it's worth it when the smile he has started to crave finally graces her face.

"Would you like to stay for dinner?"

Her grandmother echoes the question, taking liberty with her paraphrasing, and she blushes, slightly mortified. He is tempted to grab her by the shoulders and shout "yes", but he stays silent instead and follows her back to the main courtyard. They stop abruptly at the entrance, the spring breeze stilling between them. Without a word, she extends her hand, an open palm, fingers curling towards him like a question mark. They are standing at the threshold, two warriors about to undertake a very different kind of mission. He considers the woman before him, taking in the singed sleeves of her blouse, the slight bruise on her cheek, the flyaway hairs criss-crossing along her temples, and the smile more radiant than a rising sun. He thinks this might be the end of propriety's reign in his life, and the start of something else entirely. He slips his hand into hers and holds tight.

Fin

"... I think you're a great captain"