Disclaimer: Star Wars belongs to George Lucas, Bria to A. C. Crispin - I think that's how that works.

A/N: I was reading the Han Solo Trilogy and had to get some Bria-hate off my chest.

Bria Tharen's breath caught in her chest. She instinctively lifted a hand to tug her hood further over her head, making absolutely sure her face and hair were completely covered. She silently battled the urge to bolt, her legs twitching involuntarily as she inhaled slowly. The time for running was past. If she moved now she'd only draw his attention.

Their attention.

Bria closed her eyes as she silently chided herself for her slip in diction. It had been over a decade, but she still could not get used to the idea of Han Solo as one half of a "they."

Opening her eyes, she peeked around the corner of her hood. They were walking, no, strolling was more like it, along one of the flat stone paths that wound thorough the gardens of the public park. As a General of the New Republic and the Minister of the State, Bria had expected they would have their own gardens, not have to resort to walking through one of the numerous plazas in the upper levels of Coruscant to see the flowers. Stumbling across the couple here was completely… unexpected…

Bria could barely finish the thought as a voice inside her head piped up. Don't lie, it whispered, you've been hoping to catch sight of him for months. Isn't that the reason you've been hanging round on this dingy planet for as long as you have? Why else would you have sped halfway across the galaxy after that run-in with the old smuggler in the Moshdine Sector if not to find him? It's all been for him. He's all you think about…

Bria blinked her unfocused eyes, scowling at herself, and turned her attention back to the wandering couple.

Han. She couldn't quite believe it, he didn't seem to have aged a day. His laugh lines, perhaps, were more pronounced, but his hair was as thick and as dark as it had ever been. His posture, always remarkable for a man who spent half his time in a pilot's seat, was still impeccable; his shoulder's still straight as he towered over every other sentient in the gardens. Either the years had been kind to Han Solo, or he was simply too stubborn to give in to the effects of aging.

Bria smiled in spite of herself as half-forgotten memories of Han's "kiss-my-rear" attitude towards the universe flooded her mind. She gazed at him for several long moments, then slid her eyes to the person next to him.

The woman (his wife, the voice corrected her primly) was small, at least a foot shorter than Han. Her diminutive stature, however, was in no way reflected in the manner in which she carried herself. With her shoulders back and her chin held high, every movement seemed to be a testament, a reminder, of the high political position she held in the New Republic. It was a proud walk. A little brazen, perhaps, but at the same time flowing and graceful.

She's royalty of some sort, Bria recalled. Princess of Alderaan, that was it. And her name… what was her name? Bria slid her bottom lip through her teeth as she raked her brain. Something florally. Lily, Lavender, Laurier…"

Bria watched the woman absentmindedly. She had tipped her head back in laughter at something Han had said, and the sound floated across the promenade. It was a clear laugh. Not particularly tinkling or high, but lilting.

Leia! Bria's fingers, folded in the sleeves of her robe, snapped as she remembered the woman's name. Princess Leia Organa of the Royal House of Alderaan.

Bria's blue eyes rested for a moment on Leia's face. Then they slowly moved downward to the hoverpram the woman was pushing along in front of her. The elegantly designed silver buggy had two seats – room enough for two children – and yet the only thing it held, as far as Bria could tell, was a pile of blankets. The babies were bundled up in what appeared to be every quilt the couple owned. Wrapped and enfolded in innumerable layers, their parents had clearly stopped at nothing to make sure their children were not chilled by the biting breeze and iron grey skies that marked the beginning of winter on the capital planet of Coruscant. Bria squinted slightly at the hovering pram, and could just make out a tiny mittened hand protruding from the blankets in front seat. She smiled slightly.

Bria knew, had heard along with the rest of the galaxy, that the Minister of the State had given birth to twins, and she had always been perfectly aware that Han was the father. Yet seeing the children, not more than ten meters away, stirred something within her. An emotion – was it disbelief?, dejection?, bitterness? – rose in her chest. To see them with her own eyes, alive and in the flesh, seemed to confirm that which she had been refusing to accept for years – Han Solo was gone. In every sense of the word, as it applied to her, he was gone.

Bria felt her heart constricting slowly as she watched the couple. Leia laughed again. Han smiled, then put his arm around her shoulders, brushing his fingers lightly across her cheek. And in that unadorned movement Bria felt her resolve, so carefully and meticulously built up over the countless years, come crashing down.

She gasped for breath, feeling as if she had been hit in the stomach. She had seen them together, of course – Han and Leia. They were always on the news. As Minister of the State, she was routinely making speeches, addressing the public, or at some press conference or another; and he was always with her. He was always by her side. She had seen clips of them together, footage aired as interest pieces in a station's attempt to wrap up their news broadcast on a cheerful note. It would be reported that "prominent political figures attended such-and-such gala last night," or "leaders of the New Republic support so-and-so in his work with the something-or-other nonprofit organization," and there they would be - sitting next to each other at dinner, perusing an auction at a charity event, or seated amongst the audience at ceremonies and speeches made by puffed-up political diplomats.

But Bria had never seen them really and truly together. She had never caught a glimpse of them away from the public eye; so relaxed, so normal, and so palpably in love. Bria felt her eyes prick with tears as she followed their leisurely process among the flowerbeds. Yet as brokenhearted as she felt, she recognized the presence of something else interwoven with the searing pain in her chest. There was a slight tingling sensation in the back of her throat as she watched them walk, and when Leia leaned her head into Han's shoulders, a new wave of emotion suddenly coursed through her body.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, the small voice spoke up, admonishing her for being so spiteful, but Bria firmly ignored it. Her eyes were fixed on Leia as the words floated across her mind: that should have been me.

It should have been she who was strolling happily among the reds, golds, and browns of the late autumn flowers. Should have been her shoulders around which Han's arm was draped, and her children bundled in the pram.

It should have been her life, not Leia Organa's.

Ah, but it is her life, the voice she had so resolutely shushed hummed in her ear. They are her children, and he is her husband, and it's no use hating her for it.

"I don't hate her," Bria mumbled to herself through numb lips. As quickly as it had come, she felt her sudden anger ebb away to be replaced with seeping guilt for her impulsively hateful thoughts.

Oh yes you do, her subconscious replied. You hate her for having what you don't have, what you could have had. It was all within your grasp. He loved you, he wanted to marry you, and you rejected him.

"I di-did it for his own good," Bria gasped, the compressing feeling in her chest deepening.

But then you did it again. Again he was yours, and again you pushed him away. You double-crossed him. You stabbed him in the back. He loved you. He was the only man you ever loved. And you betrayed him.

Tears seeped from beneath Bria's eyelashes. "For the Rebellion," she whispered.

The Rebellion, hissed the voice, look at what the Rebellion did to you. What good has come from putting yourself on the line for them? The Rebellion focused on their cause, and considered anyone lost in pursuit of it an unfortunate sacrifice. Regrettable, maybe, but nothing more than what was to be expected. What was necessary. You should have known they'd only do the same to you. After all, look at the way you treated your own men. You gave up everything for the Rebellion. You gave up Han. And look at how they repaid you. Now you're stuck with the consequences.

Bria pressed trembling fingers to her lips, but could not prevent a small sob from escaping. Much as she tried to deny it, the rational portion of her brain was right. However this was no time to argue moot points with herself. Han and Leia were approaching the bench upon which she sat, wrapped in her cloak, and she had to move lest she risk being recognized.

They were less than four meters from her as she got to her feet. She was careful not to move too suddenly so as not to attract their attention. She folded her hands into her long sleeves and resolutely turning away from Han and his wife.

Bria had taken six steps in the opposite direction when she stopped. Hesitating for no more than a fraction of a second, she chanced a glance over her shoulder. One last look at Han, she thought. One last look and I'll leave this planet for good. I'll stop lurking in parks and outside of doors in hopes of seeing him, I swear to all the powers in the universe. But just one last look…

She stood very still and rotated her upper body to the left, only slightly, but just enough so that she could see him. A clear view of him, straight on, and without the obstruction of her hood.

At that moment, a particularly strong gust of wind whipped through the plaza, rustling the leaves of the flowers and the trees, and pulling at the hair and coats of the sentients strolling through the gardens. Before she was fully aware of what was happening, Bria felt her hood being tugged back from her head. She clutched at it desperately, but it was too late. Her long, bright red hair spilled out and was caught up in the breeze, lashing around her face as it was pulled, twisting and turning, towards the steel-grey clouds that scuttled across the sky.

In her peripheral vision, she saw Han freeze.

Using both hands to grab her treacherous hair, she desperately shoved it back down the neck of her cloak, but the damage was done.

For a moment she contemplated running. Perhaps he wouldn't know it was her. But as she glanced up, their eyes met, and she could no sooner have run than sprung into the air and flown away.

The world around her ceased to exist. The rushing of the wind was quieted, and the edges of her eyes darkened as she focused her entire body, her entire entity, on him. For the first time in over ten years, Bria stared into Han Solo's eyes, and he stared right back into hers.

His wife, noticing the change in her husband, had also stopped and was looking curiously up at him. Following his gaze, her eyes came to rest on Bria. Her face was impassive, and as Bria tore her eyes away from Han to glance at her, she couldn't tell whether the woman knew who she was or not.

For several long moments, the three humans stood immobilized in the middle of the blustery plaza.

It was Bria who moved first. After a fast and furious internal debate, she had decided that the best course of action was to approach him. Because in all honesty, what good would running do her? And it had been so long since she'd seen him…

But, the losing (and the rational) side of her brain protested, as she started towards the couple, what was it he said the last time you saw him? "If I ever see you again, I'll shoot you on sigh." What about that?

Bria's eyes swept automatically to Han's side. Yes, he carried a blaster. Slung low in its holster, just like he'd always used to wear it.

She was standing in front of them now. Her eyes were fixed on Han's, and the emotion in the Corellian's eyes was difficult to read. There was shock, undoubtedly, but something else as well. Anger, perhaps. Hostility. Whatever it was, one thing was certain: Han Solo was by no means pleased to see her.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Leia's weight shift. It was so insignificant a movement that Bria did not automatically register it. The Minister moved her small arm, ever so slightly, to give her husband a gentle nudge in the ribs. Han started, his head jerking slightly to the right in a nervous twitch, but his eyes never left Bria's face. He raised his right hand to his mouth (his left arm was still around his wife's shoulders) and cleared his throat. Then, with obvious effort, he spoke her name.

"Bria," he said, "how…erm… nice – how nice to see you," he cleared his throat again.

Bria felt her heart melt as her fell from name left his lips. Oh how she'd missed him.

Her lips parted slightly. "Han," she whispered.

There was another long silence. Han had broken eye contact when she'd spoken his name, and was staring determinedly at the ground. Bria's eyes never moved from his face as she watched him fidget slightly, tightening his hold on his wife.

"Bria Tharen, isn't it?"

Bria jumped, her eyes swiveling to Leia who had extended her hand to the red-haired girl. Damn it all, she knows who I am, Bria thought. Though why she considered that a bad thing, she was not entirely sure.

"Erm, yes, Bria Tharen," Bria said, taking the woman's proffered hand and shaking it, "How do you do?"

Han's wife nodded, "It's a pleasure to meet you Bria. I am Leia Organa Solo."

Bria released the woman's hand. The front of her mind was quelling under the name that had dropped from the woman's lips. It seemed to hang in the air in front of her, taunting her. Organa Solo. But somewhere in the far, far back of her mind she marveled at the strength of the woman's handshake. It was surprisingly resilient, especially for someone of her height.

Close up, Bria felt what she had sensed from across the square. Leia, although small in height, was not a person to trifle with. There was an aura around her that seemed to radiate power, and Bria could tell, without having to see Leia draw a blaster, that the Princess of Alderaan was a force to be reckoned with.

Leia was speaking again. Bria gave her head a tiny shake and focused her eyes on her ex-boyfriend's wife.

"Han has told me a great deal about you," Leia said, "it's nice to finally meet you."

Leia was smiling at her. Han has told her a great deal about me? Bria thought. She wasn't sure she liked the sound of that. Bria's eyes searched Leia's face for signs of any unfriendly or antagonistic emotions, but the woman's delicate features were perfectly devoid of anything other than polite and pleasant interest.

"Erm," it was Bria's turn to clear her throat, "thank you." She volunteered a small smile in Leia's direction, then turned her light eyes back to Han.

Expecting to find him examining the ground, she was slightly startled to look up to find him staring directly into her face. She blinked. The shock and surprise that had adorned his countenance upon first seeing her was gone. Han's expression was stony. There was none of the trademark sparkle in his eyes, and no trace of a smile upon his lips. He stared at Bria coldly, and she thought she could see a hint of hate and disgust in the way his eyes narrowed as she looked up at him.

Well, what did you expect? her subconscious asked. Did you think he would welcome you back with open arms? Don't forget, you used him.

Bria took a breath. "It's good to see you, Han," she said, "it's been a long time."

Han nodded tersely, his eyes not leaving her face. "Yes it has," he said.

Leia was watching her husband closely out of the corner of her eye. Her eyes flickered to Bria at Han's words, and she saw the girl cringe slightly at the harshness in them.

"Bria," she said.

Bria jumped. Again. She looked down at Leia, who was regarding her almost thoughtfully, as if trying to make up her mind about something.

"Bria," Leia said, "I'm awfully sorry, but you've caught us just as we were heading home." She gestured to the pram, "it's getting a too cold out for the children."

Bria felt her shoulders droop. She had wanted to talk to Han, just a bit more. She did not want to part with him on such hostile terms.

You don't want to part with him at all.

The princess was watching her carefully. With a glance at her husband, who was still glaring at Bria, she continued. "Perhaps you would like to join us for a bit? You and Han could have a chance to catch up, and," she smiled, "I can always make an extra pot of tea."

Bria stared at her, vaguely aware that her mouth was hanging slightly open. But desperate as she was for any time she could spend with Han, regardless of who it was offered by, she nodded hastily. "Yes, that sounds nice, thank you," she said.

Leia smiled at her. Han, who was gaping at his wife in absolute incredulity, made a small noise in the back of his throat. Leia shot him a warning glance, but ran her thumb encouragingly over his arm. Han pursed his lips and shook his head slightly, his eyes still wide with disbelief. With a sigh he turned to Bria, and spoke with a voice much softened.

"Our flat is just down this way," he, inclined his head slightly down the promenade.