Chapter 5

"You were going to leave without saying goodbye, weren't you?" Bria Tharen Solo whispered, sliding the tall glass full of Alderaanian ale closer to herself. The slight trembling of her fingers was the only thing that betrayed her true feelings.

Han Solo took a long sip from his second ale.

"Answer me, Han!" She hissed.

He turned slightly to her, his eyes narrowing. "Oh," he said mockingly, "now you ask me, right?"

Bria pressed her lips together, a deep frown appearing in her forehead. "I..." She stammered, "I'm sorry..."

"Don't do that, sweetheart," Solo groaned, shaking his head. "Don't do that..."

She turned pleading, shimmering eyes in his direction that he refused to meet. She had been struggling all week to fake that everything was normal, that nothing had changed. That now that Han did not need to hide that they were married anymore they would become like other couples, with ups and downs and everything in between. "You can't give up, Han, after all that we've been through..."

His attention returned to the dark ale in front of him. He moved the glass in slow circles, studying the pattern the thick foam left on the crystal. "Look, let's be honest, Bri," he said softly after a while. "This ain't working anymore."

Her hand grabbed his wrist, stopping its motion. "I can't accept that!" She bit her lip, struggling for control. She knew that Han hated it when she got too emotional. "I know you're mad at me because I didn't tell you about this... job, but I couldn't... I had to swear I wouldn't tell anyone..." Her voice was now a hurried whisper, barely hearable above the background noise.

"I'm still your husband for star's sake!" He interrupted, placing his ale back on the counter forcefully.

"... And I didn't know I would be offered the grant until two hours ago." She went suddenly silent, her fingers releasing his arm. Her excuse sounded pitiful, even to her own ears. Contacting the Alderaanian dissidents had been one of the main objectives of her coming to the Annual Meeting of the Imperial Archeological Society.

The other one had been to try to rekindle his relationship with Han. Things had been subtly degrading since that first glorious reunion years ago. The next time he hurried to see her as soon as his leave started, they tried to recreate that blissful feeling but succeeded only partially. She had made new friends at college and was eager to introduce 'her Han' to them – even if only as her boyfriend. The mix did not turn out well. In Han's opinion most of her new friends were spoiled brats who's biggest worry – besides their obscure studies and hobbies - seemed to be who had the newest datapad and where would they go next on vacations. And even Bria had noticed that the one or two that had a little more in their brains and whose trust she had tried to gain for weeks, had excused themselves sharply when they realized that he was an Imperial Navy cadet.

After that, his messages when they were apart had come less often and when they were together they spoke less and less about their 'other' lives. By unspoken agreement they decided that the only thing that counted was the time they spent together. She still felt the craving for the exultation some bad days and making love to Han, with Han, was like drinking from life itself for her. It made her forget everything else, at least for a while.

Solo closed his eyes. "It's a dangerous game you're playing, baby," he sighed. "I don't think ya realize just how dangerous it really is."

"I do know..."

She had been warned. Over and over. Still it seemed that with each warning her resolution only grew. In her quest to get ridden of the malefic addiction to the T'lanta Til's cult she had researched everything that was known about them, their ways and their associates. Slowly she had come to the conclusion that only a regimen as corrupted as the Empire could tolerate that whole systems in the Galaxy would be controlled by Hutt crime lords and their henchmen. And even if commodities as glitterstim could be needed by society because they had other uses beyond recreational, there were methods to produce it that did not involve brainwashed slaves.

"You do?" Han looked squarely at Bria for the first time since she had arrived. "The T'lanta Til are schoolboys compared to what an interrogator can do to you. And have you thought about how dangerous it is for me too? You think I can take a shuttle and just fly away from one of those star destroyers if anything goes wrong? You think they'd let me?"

The Corellian woman paled. She had, in fact, thought at length about it, but managed to convince herself that Solo, deep inside, shared her beliefs and was willing to take those risks. "This is important, Han, the most important thing I've ever..."

"There's always something more important, Bria," he answered bitterly. "The exultation, your family, your studies, your friends... I only have the Navy and you."

"You could have more than that, there's people..."

"I don't want more! Can't you understand?"

In a way, she understood. Han almost never talked about his childhood or the time before he met her, but Bria knew it had been not easy. He knew the ways and tricks of the seedy side of society too well to not have been deeply involved with it. She also knew he had tried to leave all that behind when he signed up with the Navy. And of course, he loved to fly. That was probably the only thing she had been ever truly jealous of.

Other women she could understand, Han had a natural sensuality he was not fully aware of yet and that would always attract them to him like nightmoths to the light. The hard exercise and healthy food at the Academy had developed his body turning him into a very fine specimen of human male; she could not blame him if he had felt the need for some company every now and then when she was half a Galaxy away. Corellian marriage vows did not include the word fidelity after all. She herself had surrendered to loneliness a few times falling into the waiting arms of one fellow or another.

No, she had not been jealous when she had entered the Academy's ballroom on his arm the night of his graduation and she had noticed the murderous looks on quite a few of the women there. She was the one dancing with the class Valedictorian, the most gorgeous man in the room; she was the one introduced as his fiancée. It was her night of triumph as much as his. To hell with everybody else.

No, she had not been jealous then. That had come later, when he had taken her for a tour of the Academy grounds, including the hangars that harbored the finest flying vessels the Empire had produced and he tried to explain what he felt while flying one of those. She knew then that it was only a matter of time until he discovered that what he would get in return for all his hard work for the Navy was not enough. Not worthy the effort. Because in his heart he did not want the honors and power of a military career, but the freedom to fly wherever he wanted.

And she knew in that moment that one day he would fly away from her as well.

"I'm gonna miss my shuttle," he announced standing abruptly.

Bria Tharen closed her eyes.

It seemed that the day was today.

"I still love you, Han... I always will. Maybe one day you'll understand..." A sob choked her words and she buried her damp face in her hands.

Solo's fingers lingered briefly over her golden curls, almost reaching to caress them, but in the last moment he dropped his arm. "Goodbye, Bri," he whispered hoarsely, "be careful."

And then he was gone.