Poe had been separated from the other members of the mission they had been sent on when the group were attacked by several ships from the First Order. The engine of the shuttle he was flying (something that wasn’t easily recognisable as belonging to the Resistance) took a direct hit, causing a small explosion in the console before him. He was hit in the first by flame and debris and knew he had to land as soon as possible before he crashed or couldn’t pilot the shuttle any further.
Forced to make a landing on a nearby planet whilst he could still make out the basics of the controls, Poe stumbled down the ramp to try and seek some kind of help. His face and eyes feeling as if they were still aflame.
A year had passed and Poe had given up any hope of ever being able to return to the Resistance. The controls of the shuttle were irreparably damaged and he couldn’t even send word that he had survived. And his eyes... the damage had been too severe for the medics of the planet to repair and he had lost his sight soon after landing.
Knowing that he had no choice but to try and survive on the planet as best he could, Poe recorded any bit of information he picked up over time in the databanks of the shuttle. No matter how small. It gave him a purpose. Something to keep him going now he had nothing else.
He managed to live simply in the shuttle. Keeping himself to himself mostly and only venturing out to acquire food by giving advice on ship repairs or anything else he could offer. It took some time, but Poe adapted as best as was possible to the life he now had. He mapped everything in the shuttle to memory, mainly due to walking into everything repeatedly until he automatically remembered where everything was. No one who he became acquaintances with were allowed on the shuttle for he wanted the one piece of his former life to be kept the way it was.
One day, Poe had ventured out of the shuttle to the nearby market place. Upon returning, he breathed in slowly and stilled when he placed his hand on the outside control panel and realised that the exit ramp was lowered already.
Someone was on board his shuttle.
Poes hand immediately went to the Resistance pistol he kept in the pocket of his jacket and he pulled the large hood of the jacket up over his head to obscure his features before he slowly used his hand to guide himself onto the shuttle.
He listened with every silent step for any sound being made before he finally raised the gun to point at where he believed the intruder was.
“What are you doing on my shuttle?”
