Blackness, dotted with gleaming stars, stretched out above the hut where the most daring pilot in the galaxy was about to change the tides in the fight against the First Order.

He looked up.

Something else, something other than stars, flickered overhead ominously. Lights of a ship.

Correction—ships.

Poe Dameron looked back at Lor San Tekka.

"We've got company," Poe said to the old man as he stared out at the enemy before them. "You have to hide."

"You have to leave" was the only response he received.

Poe gestured for him to follow, but the man refused silently. Poe nodded. There wasn't time to argue. Boots were on the ground.

He and BB-8 raced through the night. Just get to the X-Wing, Poe willed himself. Piloting the fighter gave him the greatest sense of control—control that he desperately needed to regain if he was going to get the hell off that desert rock. He climbed up the ladder but hadn't been quick enough. The First Order had seen his ship and fired right into the back of it. Poe's thoughts shifted quickly. He had the gun. He had the knife. He had…

He had no chance.

Shots went off in Poe's direction and he struggled for cover, slipping his hand underneath his collar to clasp the silver ring that dangled from a chain around his neck. He gave it a squeeze before firing back wildly in an attempt to buy himself some time. There wouldn't be much. Flames were eating up the back of his ship.

Hastily, he tucked the map into BB-8's secret compartment and instructed him to leave the village.

"I'll come back for you," he shouted at the little droid.

BB-8 beeped doubtfully as he rolled across the sand.

Poe leaned against the side of his ship, positioning himself for a couple of quick shots. Ahead of him, Stormtroopers tore the village apart, burning it to the ground and destroying anything and everything in its path. Villagers scrambled all around as a larger ship prepared to land.

Something more treacherous was ahead.

Think, Dameron.

There was nowhere to hide. Troopers would be over soon enough to inspect the area. Poe certainly wouldn't be returning to the Resistance base any time soon.

If ever.

A cloaked figure emerged from the shuttle, shrouded in smoke and debris. Force-sensitive or not, the man's presence could be felt immediately. Poe shivered, unable to tear his eyes away.

So this was Kylo Ren. The man—the monster—who wanted the map as much as the Resistance did. Poe had only heard of his reputation, but had never come face-to-face. For that, he had always counted himself lucky.

Oh, how his luck was changing.

An exchange passed between Ren and Lor San Tekka. Something had to be done, regardless of how futile. He thought of Isla, his beautiful Isla. She was scrappy as hell, and if he was going to die, he wanted to make her proud. Poe fired off a shot, preparing himself to go down in a fight. The chance, however, never came. Within seconds Poe's body was immediately immobile, his eyes only able to stare ahead as the blue blaster ray hovered in front of his face. Then they grabbed him.

Troopers dragged Poe forward and pushed him to the ground in front of their leader, who merely knelt down in silence.

Poe's senses were going haywire in anticipation, adrenaline coursing through his body. Would he soon feel the crackling burn of the gleaming cross saber on his flesh?

He stared at the mask.

"So who talks first? You talk first? I talk first?"

"The old man gave it you."

"It's just very hard to understand you with all the—"

"Search him!" Ren ordered. The troopers yanked Poe to his feet and roughly patted him down.

"—apparatus."

When they came up empty-handed, Ren ordered Poe be taken aboard his ship.

Poe knew that torture was inevitable, but he still had some time. Not much, but some.

The door closed behind them as the screams of the villagers roared in his ears.

She waited with baited breath, mindlessly twisting the silver band around her finger until it wrung red burns into her skin. Some skin around it had begun to peel. Isla wasn't even the one to notice; Snap Wexley, the pilot sitting next to her, not-so-subtly yanked her hands apart and shot her a warning look. She didn't acknowledge him and instead continued fiddling with the ring. Snap had become a brother to her over the years—a big, bear-like brother who was possibly the only person in the galaxy whose affection for Poe rivaled her own.

They were anticipating Commander Dameron's transmission to notify the base of his return, but it had been hours. A delay like this was completely out of character for him.

The first hour passed without much of a fuss; it could've been a timing issue, or maybe he had made an emergency stop to refuel. Whatever it was, Isla waited through it with several others as if everything was going according to plan. But somewhere during hour two, Isla couldn't help but notice the look General Organa had given Admiral Akbar. It was subtle, as Leia was nothing if not professional and tactful, but it was a look of deep concern nonetheless. It made her antsy.

By hour six, she'd lost all feeling in her body.

Looking down at her hands, Isla finally let go of the ring. She fidgeted with it so often during times like this that the once somewhat polished surface had been worn down until it looked like a dull piece of scrap metal.

It had been his mother's, the famous Shara Bey. It'd hung around his neck since her passing and one day, in the middle of a particularly grueling mission, he said that he wanted Isla to wear it. Isla, listening on the other end of the comm (along with the rest of the on-base personnel), had closed her eyes to focus on his face rather than the fact that they'd probably both be dead soon and eagerly obliged.

To her utter astonishment, though, they kept surviving. Endless battles, hundreds of close calls—they survived.

They were quietly wed by none other than General Organa herself. Snap and his gal, Karé Kun, were the only guests (and witnesses). They celebrated afterward with several rounds of drinks outside the hangar. Isla couldn't remember seeing Poe happier.

Her chest tightened just thinking of his smile.

The skin Isla had been peeling from around her fingernails since she'd been summoned to the control room formed into small scabs, which she now picked until they bled. Crimson beads dotted several of her fingers and she discreetly wiped them on her brown fatigues. Nobody aside from Snap noticed her movements; all eyes were fixated on the young ensigns who tracked communications.

As hard as she tried to fight reminiscing—because to her, reminiscing meant that nothing else was left to look forward to—Isla remembered when she'd first met Poe. He'd been a young, cocky pilot for the New Republic. She'd been young and aimless. Poe hadn't known what he was getting himself into when he'd walked into her shop—well, the shop she had procured temporarily. It may have been one of the fronts for the floundering revival of the Corellian Run Scoundrels.

Keirrian had sent him there. Blasted Keirrian. The woman had caught Isla slicing into the factory's financial database to transfer some credits, and, after some thoughtful persuasion, she'd taken the then teenager under her wing. The people Isla had considered to be her parents were in prison, so she had nothing to lose. Isla had always been opportunistic. It was the first method of survival.

"General," a young, red-headed officer looked over her shoulder. The entire room was startled into position. "We've just intercepted a transmission from the First Order."

Leia moved swiftly over to the monitor and spoke softly with the young woman, her face grim. Then she turned away to steal a click to herself before addressing the room.

"I'm afraid I have some bad news," she announced. "The Jakku village has been destroyed."

Some officers sat up abruptly. Others in the room gasped. Isla held her breath as heart plummeted.

"We've lost Lor San Tekka." Her dark eyes flicked over to Isla. "Commander Dameron has been taken prisoner. We do not yet know his location, but we can assume he's been taken aboard The Finalizer for interrogation. We will be discussing an extraction plan shortly, but we need to consider things carefully, as we have no way of knowing what happened to the map. Based on the message we just received, we know the First Order does not possess it."

Hushed voices floated around the room. Isla remained unblinkingly fixated on Leia.

"Let's hope they don't get too much information out of him," Leia added somewhat mindlessly as she sunk into her chair, staring ahead with empty eyes.

As Isla sat for a moment longer, running over every possible scenario in her mind. Tears began pooling in her green eyes, and she suddenly felt suffocated. The First Order didn't play games. General Hux, as agitating as he was, knew how to inflict pain. Isla shook her head hastily, blinking away the extra moisture as anger filled her and her hands began to shake.

Poe had caught her off guard back when they'd first met. Jaded as she was, the sight of him standing there had made her heart stop for a moment. She wasn't immune to his dark features and charming smile, because she could recognize an incredibly attractive person when she saw one, but she'd be lying if she said his earnestness and conviction—his spirit—weren't part of the equation. They were opposites (or so they thought). He sought answers. She turned from them. Live free, don't join was something she'd been told once and she had always, always lived by it. He had been the one to make her think about the possibility of believing in something for the first time in her entire life. He'd set her on this kriffing path and he was a part of her story whether or not they had known it then.

She would not leave him like this.

"This is why you should have sent me with him." Her voice came out as a snarl as she slammed her hands down onto the table. "You didn't karking listen to me!"

The room fell silent as everyone turned to stare, mouths agape. C-3PO made some comment about uncivilized Corellians. Beside her, Snap bowed his head and rubbed his temples.

"I told you that this mission was too dangerous for him to go alone."

"Lieutenant Dameron." Admiral Ackbar stood up. "We made that decision based on the information we had at the time. We had no reason to suspect something like this would happen—"

"But I told you—all the intel we've received—on top of our own kriffing experience—indicates that the First Order has spies everywhere." She pointed a finger. "Nobody should be going on solo assignments—nobody!"

Arguments erupted all over the room. Some agreed with Isla. Some called for her suspension.

"Everyone!" Leia wasn't going to put up with the commotion for long. "As I just said, we will begin to discuss an extraction plan shortly. However, right now I would like everyone to clear this room immediately and reconvene in ten minutes. It's been a long day for all of us—get some air."

Isla was irate as she stood, shoving her chair into the table so hard that it wobbled. She would get to Poe if she had to commandeer a ship.

"Lieutenant Dameron, please stay a moment."

Poe was being taken off-world to another ship, maybe even to the First Order's base. He really couldn't be sure, as he found himself falling in and out of consciousness after receiving another blow to the head. His brain felt clouded and swollen.

By the time they reached their destination, Poe could hardly keep his balance. He could feel a warm, sticky spot on his forehead and knew that if he could reach up to touch it, his fingers would come away covered in blood.

It took six guards to haul him into the interrogation room. The minute they walked him off the shuttle, he had looked around and realized what a predicament he was in. Then he fought hard, railing against anyone who came close. He refused to give up.

The troopers quickly stunned him and dragged him to his feet to march him down a sterile hallway.

If he died, would anyone feel his presence leaving the Force? Would Isla read it in Leia's eyes?

Of course she would. Isla didn't miss a single thing. She saw every detail, every scenario. He had always admired that ability. He tended to focus on the now, but she always saw the bigger picture.

Had he told her enough how much he loved her?

The guards spent about an hour with Poe, leaving him in a pulp. They'd demanded to know his name and where the map had been taken, both of which he withheld defiantly.

Poe's body felt weak, as if it would drop to the floor the moment his restraints were removed. He took a few deep breaths, but that only caused him more pain.

The moment General Hux appeared, however, Poe caught a second wind. Hux hadn't the slightest idea why the Resistance pilot suddenly came to life with a wild fury upon seeing his face, but he was enjoying it—Poe could tell. He watched the General pace around with a smug expression. Poe's chest ached, his pulse quickening as he imagined Hux in any proximity to Isla. Touching her. Hurting her. Poe lunged Hux, but he was immediately (and forcefully) reminded that he was shackled. That kriffing bastard. If he ever got the shot, Poe would kill him and he would take the utmost pleasure in doing so.

Hux apparently felt the same way about him. When he was finished, Poe was positive that his nose was broken and wagered he might have a cracked rib or two. His eyes were swollen, probably past the point of recognition, and the coppery taste of the blood streaming from his nose and his lips burnt his throat as he swallowed it. None of that mattered though—he still hadn't given up any information. The map and the Resistance—and therefore Isla—were safe. Poe felt nauseous with defeat, but he'd rather die with that than with the feeling of betrayal.

He'd just passed his thirty-fifth year. This wasn't enough time. He had plans. He'd always thought he'd be in military service for life, despite how much he wanted to settle down like his parents had. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine finding Isla. And then he had, and he was suddenly fighting for their future.

Smog from the factory hung thickly in a low cloud all throughout the city. Poe's instinct was to pull the front of his jacket up over his nose and mouth, but that would make him easily detectable as an outsider.

Poe, without Rapier Squadron, had been sent to Corellia to investigate the dramatic increase in the planet's primary export—starships. Of course, the assignment was more of a formality since the government wasn't too enthusiastic about creating conflict with the biggest anti-Republic group. His commanding officer was most certainly expecting that Poe would return empty-handed. Any records indicating the planet was building a fleet of starships for anyone other than the Republic would be well hidden.

The Republic was plainly unwilling to see what was right in front of its nose. The First Order was dangerous, regardless of the Republic's statements that it was not a "credible threat to galactic peace." Poe had lost too many good pilots in rogue attacks. He felt that a preemptive airstrike would do more good then silly investigations like the one he'd been assigned, but the Republic demanded concrete proof.

"Kriffing waste of time," Poe muttered as he looked up at the neon sign that was missing some of its letters.

It flickered "RPARS—AL KNDS."

The shop was wedged in between a drab cantina and a dilapidated, vacant Noodle Bar.

Just as he expected, he wasn't able to prove a damned thing from his visit to the factory. The logs were clean-all shipments accounted for. He'd been about to leave the lot when an employee slipped a cryptic message into his hand. All it read was "black hole." There was a tiny notation in the corner, but the symbol meant nothing to Poe until he was heading back to his ship. Across the way he spotted a light-up graphic of a black hole in the window of a computer shop.

The woman was sending him to a slicer.

Part of Poe felt like chasing down a slicer would be an even bigger waste of his time than his efforts of the last three hours had been, but he didn't want to go back to base without something, anything. Imagining the look of utter shock on his commander's face when he showed up with actual incriminating intel was too thrilling, so he sighed and pushed on.

A bell chimed weakly overhead as he stepped cautiously through the door. The wide room was dark and musty, crammed floor-to-ceiling with fraying wires and various technological odds and ends. He noticed a corner filled with spare droid parts.

As he looked around, he spotted a long braid of white-blonde hair sticking out from the doorway at the end of a narrow hallway behind the counter. The woman it was attached to was in the process of tucking a blaster into the waistband of her pants. Poe instinctively reached for his own weapon, the adrenaline coursing through his veins a welcome feeling. He hadn't expected things to take any kind of dramatic turn.

"We're closed!" A raspy, but feminine, voice called out to him as he slowly stepped forward.

Poe tried to get a better a look through the sliver of an open door the woman was standing in front of. It was filled with the kind of crates that were out of place in a shop like this one—shipping crates.

Maybe this will be more fun than I thought, he said to himself as he inhaled deeply before proceeding. He wondered whether the crates were filled with spices or weapons.

"I'm just looking for some information," he answered, peering around for another body or any kind of surveillance system.

They were alone.

The woman's right hand lingered close to her side as she swiftly approached the wide counter. She blew loose hair out of her face with a single puff as she looked at Poe. Her eyes—the color of the jungles of his homeworld—lingered on his for a beat.

Poe was unexpectedly and completely stunned. The woman was about two or three years his junior. That, and she was probably the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Was she the slicer?

"Like I said, we're closed. City Bureau is a few blocks over. They'll help you find your way."

"Uh." He blinked, momentarily forgetting what had brought him there. Then he shook his head. "No, that's not quite the situation."

He slid the piece of paper onto the counter. The woman glanced at it, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Who gave this to you?"

Poe shrugged.

"A woman at the factory across the street."

She pinched the bridge of her nose. Her fingers, long and thin, were calloused.

"She know you're Navy?" she asked, making no effort to conceal her irritation. She looked Poe up and down.

"I don't…" Poe shook his head. He thought he'd dressed casually enough to blend in. He hadn't even flown a marked ship. "How did you—?"

"Your posture," she answered flippantly. Her tone may have been dismissive, but her brow creased as she casually glanced over her shoulder at the storage room a few beats later.

Poe slouched a little, adjusting his shoulders several different ways while her eyes were off of him.

His roguish pride was slightly wounded, but he was intrigued.

She braced the counter and looked him in the eye. This woman wasn't in the mood to mess around.

Poe squared his shoulders in an attempt to radiate a similar vibe as he placed his own palms on the counter.

"Are you going to help me or not?"

The woman's eyebrows arched as her hands planted themselves firmly on her hips.

"Were you followed?"

He looked around.

"I don't think so. Why would anyone follow me here?" Had he landed in the hot bed of crime on Corellia?

"I need to get paid."

"Pride in doing your civic duty isn't enough?"

"No," she responded bluntly. "Now if you'll excuse me—"

"You know," Poe interrupted, biting his lip. "I've got a pretty good guess of what you're hiding in that back room. That and the fact that you're a slicer could be enough for me to bring you in."

The young woman's eyes narrowed into slits and she stuck her chin up defiantly.

"Your people OK with blackmail?"

He merely shrugged.

After a brief stare down, which Poe actually wasn't confident at all he would win, she sighed.

"So if I promise not to stun you—or worse—and I get you what you need, you'll leave me alone after this?"

"I'm a man of my word."

The woman gave him another once-over with incredible scrutiny, looking for the smallest detail in his face that could expose his dishonesty. Poe saw a flicker of approval in her eyes.

She had either detected his sincerity or was just appreciating his appearance.

While Poe wondered which of the two choices it was (maybe both?), she slunk off toward the back of shop with the movements of a Nexus. When she sensed he wasn't following her, she looked back at him and jerked her head toward a set of stairs.

"You coming or not?"

Poe suppressed a smile and nodded curtly.

He was insanely attracted to her.

They trekked up a small, iron-wrought spiral staircase that lead them to an attic room filled with additional computer equipment. Poe's pulse quickened with each step. He was not distracted by the woman's hips or her strong legs—he was merely thinking about how this day was shaping up to be a much more interesting than he had anticipated. Yes, he was thinking about how fortunate he was to get this lead.

"So…" Poe began, no longer bothering to hide who truly held the upper hand in this new relationship (her). "Do I get a name?"

The woman shook her head, not bothering to turn around.

"Unimportant."

"OK then." He nodded, feeling the corner of his lips turn upward as he watched her get to work in front of a large computer. The glow of the screen lit up her already radiant hair.

She looked over her shoulder at him, catching his eyes on her, and raised an eyebrow. As she turned back to the computer, Poe swore he saw a smile on her lips.

After a half hour or so had passed in almost complete silence—the exception being the sound of the keyboard—the woman asked Poe if he had anything she could store the files on.

"That was fast," he said as he fished around for the small drive he always kept on his person. "Have you given this information out before?"

She nodded silently, lips pursed as her eyes scanned the screen.

Poe looked at her, holding out the drive between his thumb and forefinger.

"What? To who?"

The woman smiled crookedly as she plugged the drive into the side of the machine.

"Calm down, buddy." Her eyes moved across the screen as she spoke. "I think the guy was with the Princess' group."

He turned that bit of information over in his mind as he continued to watch her.

"The Resistance has this information?" He knew he was onto something.

She ignored the question and announced that the upload wouldn't be complete for another forty minutes or so, Poe attempted to make idle chitchat. Maybe if she warmed up to him, she'd give him a little more information about her clientele. Besides, he really wanted to know her name.

"So," he began. "How long have you been doing this?"

"My entire life."

"You've been slicing your entire life?" Poe looked on incredulously.

"Slicing, smuggling, stealing…" Her tone was detached. She was hardly paying him any mind.

"How old are you?"

The woman looked up, amused.

"Another unimportant detail."

Poe held up his hands apologetically, but smiled.

"I meant it as a compliment."

She studied him for a moment.

"Well, you know what they say," Poe gambled. He smiled as the woman raised her dark eyebrows in anticipation. "Opposites attract."

She laughed, more boisterous this time, as she turned back to the screen.

"Should be ready soon."

"Are you really not going to tell me your name?" Poe asked. "You're doing me a favor—I'm not going to turn you in. You have my word."

The woman reclined in her chair, assessing him with a sly smile.

"I'm sure it's a beautiful name," he goaded. She rolled her eyes, but kept smiling.

Suddenly, a sound from below shook them both from their flirtation. The woman jumped up and rushed to the slats covering the window.

"Shit," she murmured as she peered out.

"What?" Poe was standing beside her after one or two strides. "Who is that?"

"Who do you think?" She responded irritably as she began moving about the room, grabbing small items (and some weapons) and tossing them into a bag. "I thought you said you weren't followed."

"Is that—" Poe cautiously peered out for a better look. "Is that the First Order?"

She nodded, chewing on her lip as the pounding on the door continued.

"How can you tell?"

"I've dealt with them before." Her tone changed. Fear had replaced any bravado "They send their men out in plain clothes—it's too early for them to come off as bullies."

"How'd you know I wasn't with them?"

"We don't have time for this. We have to get out of here."

"What about the files—they're not done uploading."

"Are they worth your life?"

"What? Are you serious? It's only a couple of men out there."

She ripped the drive out of the computer at 45 percent.

"Trust me," she said as she thrust it into his hands. "I'm leaving. You should too."

Poe followed her down a fire escape that emptied out in the back of the building.

"You should get back to your ship," she warned. "Don't be a hero right now. They'll be out here any minute."

"I wouldn't—"

"Oh come on, man," she sighed. "It's written all over your face. Get out of here."

He could hear the men breaking down the front door as they both jumped the last ten feet into the alleyway.

Poe's head was reeling. Things had escalated so quickly.

"It's too bad," he said as he double-checked his pocket for the drive. "I was thinking we could get a drink down the street."

She smiled crookedly.

"Maybe next time."

Without waiting for a response, she turned sharply and took off.

Poe, not knowing quite what else to do, followed suite. He glanced back quickly over his shoulder to watch her flee. This woman may have possibly given him information that would change everything and he'd never be able to thank her for it.

He returned to base the next afternoon with no more than what he'd left with. The data on the drive had been corrupted, probably from lack of completion. He explained everything to his commanding officer, who insisted that the First Order wasn't a gang of thugs who would go around breaking down doors and chasing people out into the street. Poe, infuriated, had stormed off to his living quarters and gotten completely shit-faced.

Seven months later, Poe was recruited by the Resistance.

Poe's vision blurred briefly and he felt his stomach roll uncontrollably. Whether it was from the memory or his broken body, he wasn't sure—both were incredibly painful.

Vomit spewed from his mouth—mostly blood and bile. At least he was able to turn his head to the side in time so he could die without the contents of stomach dried all over his chest.

Kylo Ren entered the holding cell swiftly. Poe looked up.

"I had no idea we had the best pilot in the Resistance onboard," he mocked. "Comfortable?"

"Not really."

"I'm impressed. No one has been able to get out of you what you did with the map."

"Might wanna' rethink your technique."

Ren reached toward Poe but stopped short of touching him. Poe flinched and found himself in sudden agony. He felt Ren sifting through his brain, picking apart any memories that were easily available on the surface. Of course, the only thing on his mind at that point had been Isla. He was never going to see her again. Never hold her, kiss her. Never—Poe's thoughts suddenly shifted. Isla. Hux could find her and it would all be because of him.

Beads of sweat formed on Poe's forehead as he felt Ren pause on these thoughts. He was so close that Poe could almost feel the coolness of the metal against his nose. He stared into the empty eyes of his mask. Poe fought, flooding his thoughts with insignificant memories that wouldn't betray Resistance information—the home he grew up in, random flashes of his childhood, the flight academy, flying for the New Republic. His resolve was slipping though. Any moment now and he would begin begging for his life.

"Where is it?"

"The Resistance will not be intimidated by you," he ground out through clenched teeth.

"Where…is it?"

The full weight of the Force swiftly bore down onto Poe. His body shook as he struggled to maintain his composure. Before he could stop himself, Poe cried out in anguish. His mind—his body—couldn't take it any longer. Ren's anger had sent a wave of pain through him that made him feel as if every bone in his body, down to his toes, had been shattered.

Kylo Ren had gotten exactly what he'd come for.

...

"So it seems we have more than one mutual acquaintance," he murmured mechanically as he was about to leave the cell.

Poe couldn't do more than tilt his head, his eyes half closed. His voice was hardly a whisper.

"You won't find her."

"I wouldn't be so sure."