She didn't want to be here. This house was foreign to her. Her new "family" were strangers that she didn't trust and didn't want. The past few months had gone by in a blur, but now that the scenery had changed time seemed to come to a grinding halt. She should have been grateful to have been given a new home so soon after entering foster care. There were kids her age and older who had been in the system since infancy. No one wanted them. She'd been given a home they would have killed for (a mansion, really), but all she could think about was her life before.

Asajj didn't go near the bed. Although large and beautiful, this room was as cold to her as any freezer. This wasn't her home. That wasn't her bed. And that man who had taken custody of her was not her father. Her father had died, killed on the street by thugs who valued the paper and metal in his pocket more than his life. She still saw his body bleeding out on the sidewalk every time she closed her eyes. She'd been right beside him when it happened and couldn't do a thing to help him. The muggers had fled after shooting him in the back, leaving him barely clinging to life while his daughter sobbed in impotent horror and rage at his side.

Although her body still functioned, Asajj Narec died that day. She'd ignored every attempt by child psychologists and welfare agents to get her to talk about that night. She'd turned into herself and shut out everyone who couldn't bring her father back. She didn't want to be helped. She didn't want to move past it. She just wanted her family back.

That thought cycled through her head as she sat huddled against the wall. She didn't want to be here with her foster father and brother, but she had nowhere else to go. A fifteen-year old orphan with no money, no friends or relatives, and no drive to do anything but mourn her loss didn't exactly have a lot of options. And so, here she sat, crying into her knees and silently begging whatever god was out there to wake her up from this nightmare.

"Hey." She flinched at the sound. The last thing she wanted right now was someone, especially someone like Durge seeing her at her weakest. She'd only interacted with him once, when Dooku had brought her to his home, but she already knew he was a blunt, insensitive brute of a teen. "What's wrong with you?"

"Go away," she said in as strong a voice as he could manage. In her present state, that meant a choked, warbling sound she instantly hated.

Durge 'hmmph'd. "Or what? You'll throw me out? In case you haven't noticed, I do outweigh you by at least fifty pounds." Asajj drew her knees tighter to her chest and tried to curl as far into herself as possible. "That's what I thought." She flinched again when she felt him step closer, then plop down beside her. She instinctively shifted away from him to keep some distance. She didn't know what he was planning to do, but she certainly didn't want him touching her. "You wanna talk about it?"

Asajj didn't trust her voice anymore, so she just shook her head. She just wanted to be left alone.

"Fine. Then I'll talk." That got her attention, though she still didn't look up. "You can drop the scared little girl act, you know. It's not gonna get you anywhere in this house." Now her grief was replaced with anger. He thought she was acting? He thought her trauma was something to mock? That was insulting! Apparently he saw her tense up and recognized it for what it was. "There you go. Being mad feels better than anything else, right?"

Now she did look up, heedless of the tears still staining her cheeks. Durge was starting to piss her off, but he did have a point. "What are you talking about?"

His face gave away nothing, but she could have sworn his expression softened just a touch. "You think you're the first person to lose someone? I've been in your shoes, before Dooku took me in. No one else wanted to deal with an angry kid. But being pissed at the world was better than moping around about something I couldn't change. Lucky for me, Dooku understood my anger and taught me to control it and use it." He looked at her then, a hint of a feral smile on his lips. "He can do the same for you if you quit being such a brat."

Asajj bristled at that word. "I'm not being a brat!"

"Could've fooled me, girl," Durge laughed. "What do you call this 'woe is me, I hate everyone and everything don't look at me don't touch me' attitude?"

"If all you're going to do is insult me, get out."

"I'll leave when I'm good and ready." The tension between them grew so thick it was almost suffocating. "Now, let me give you some advice: you'd better bury your grief before it consumes you. Or before Dooku makes you do it. Play by his rules and he'll make sure you're taken care of. Don't, and you'll find yourself back in the system before you can say 'fuck this'."

Asajj stayed silent for a beat. What he said made a lot of sense, and she sure as hell didn't want to go back to that group home. No one could ever replace her father, but she had a chance for some sort of life with Dooku. It wasn't the kind of life she'd always imagined, but it was something. "How did you get over your loss, Durge?" she asked flatly.

"Who says I did?" He looked away from her then at some point past the hardwood floor. "You never really get over something like that, no matter what those idiot Jedi say. You just replace the hurt with something else. Being mad works for me."

Asajj's brow furrowed. "Who are the Jedi?"

Now Durge brightened. "Ah, you'll meet some of them at school on Monday. Bunch of hippie morons, if you ask me. Always think they know everything about everyone. Think they're doing the world a load of good by preaching about friendship and harmony and that kind of bullshit. Do yourself a favor and keep away from them. They'll try and get their hooks into anyone." He turned to her with a what was probably meant to be a smile. "I'll show you around, let you know who's cool to hang with and who ain't worth your time." He stood abruptly, the swiftness of the movement surprising given his size. "Just don't expect me to watch your back all the time. New kids always get hazed, especially when they look different." A meaty finger pointed at her half-shaven head was all the elaboration he gave. "So keep your eyes open."

Asajj watched him walk towards the door. The weight that had formed in her gut since first stepping foot in her new home had lessened a bit. "Durge," she called out. He looked back. "Thanks."

One side of his mouth turned up in a half-smile she found oddly comforting right now. "Don't get used to it. You're on your own now."

Somehow she knew that wasn't entirely true. Although she wouldn't count on him (or anyone) for anything, it was nice to know that someone was in her corner, even if it was only at his leisure. The crushing loneliness would always be there, she was certain. But maybe Dooku could indeed teach her how to control it. Maybe even channel it into something else that could be useful.

She looked at the bed again. Suddenly the floor didn't seem as comfortable and welcoming as it had earlier. She carefully climbed onto the mattress and under the sheets. A flash of guilt shot through her as she realized she was actually looking forward to a new day. What right did she have to be excited about anything when her father was dead? She buried her face in the pillow and allowed herself one more thought before succumbing to sleep: I'm sorry, dad. I miss you so much.