A/N:This fic comes from my headcanon that Allelujah was not a designer baby and was instead one of a number of super-soldiers-to-be taken off the battlefields of the Solar Energy Wars because the Institute wanted children but not a paper trail. This headcanon necessarily leaves room for the possibility of Allelujah having family back in his home country of Kazakhstan who think he was killed during the fighting.
It also takes no small amount of inspiration from the Family Reconstruction Act concept that was used in all of those GW/HP crossovers—and from Oedipus Tex's Hands, a deconstruction of some of the ideas in those fics. This story will hit a middle ground, tonally, between those two extremes.
This is a post-A Wakening of the Trail Blazer fic, with all the spoilers implied. Allelujah and Marie are engaged and living together in Tokyo, in the same building as Saji and Louise, who are also sharing their own apartment. Ms. Sumeragi and Feldt are still working with Celestial Being in space. The main warning is that Allelujah and other characters will be spending large parts of this fic in bad psychological places, including while they're narrating; if that's gonna be a problem you know about it now. There will be five story chapters and a short epilogue, all of which are all written already.
The chapter title is explained in text; see the end note for an explanation of the fic title and information about where to find more info about this fic.
Chapter 1: Suyinshi
"Ms. Sumergi, 'because I told you so' is not a good reason to hack into a database that is already being made public to everyone who actually has any business knowing what's in it!" Feldt finally snapped, spinning around in her chair and standing up to face her commanding officer.
Feldt loved Ms. Sumeragi, she really did. And she was so proud of her for trying to work on her drinking problem, even after she'd been faced with an amount of responsibility Feldt knew she saw as nightmarish. But she couldn't help wishing that Ms. Sumeragi would just remember that being part of an official government meant that they couldn't just break the rules whenever they wanted anymore.
"It's important?" Ms. Sumeragi tried.
"You said that before you convinced Christina and I to build our own version of Veda…but also before you talked Lichty into making Setsuna a fake ID so he could go to a bar for Lockon's birthday," Feldt said, crossing her arms. "So, which kind of important is this?"
Ms. Sumeragi winced. "Maybe in the middle?" she said, uncertain, wiggling her hand back and forth. "I mean, no-one will be in danger if you don't do it, but—" she broke off, then looked around the room furtively.
"We're the only ones on shift right now and I'm not expecting visitors," Feldt said. "You can talk about whatever it is."
"It's the SSI records release," Ms. Sumeragi said. "I'd wondered why Allelujah didn't disagree with it more—I mean, I knew he was totally in agreement with the principal of it; all those families whose kids were abducted during the war have a right to know what happened. I guess I chalked it up to him still being guilty about what happened with his intervention at the Super Soldier Institute. But still…I thought he'd be more upset about the idea that he might have random family members coming up out of the woodwork."
Feldt nodded. "So, something else was going on?"
"Something else, all right," Ms. Sumeragi said darkly. "I talked to Allelujah last night. Apparently, his records still say that he was disposed of after he was found to be unfit for combat. That's why he isn't worried."
"He's going to let his relatives think he's dead," Feldt said flatly.
"And I quote, 'Better than finding out they're related to a crazy failed experiment who killed thousands of people,'" Ms. Sumeragi said, voice hard.
Feldt sucked in a breath. "He's still thinking like that? I thought, with Marie—"
"She's good for him, but the SSI release is a nasty reminder of one of his bigger regrets," Ms. Sumeragi said. "And it's one thing to feel okay with what you are and what you've done, and another to feel alright with explaining it to a civilian you've never met before. He's never had a biological family. He's probably terrified they'll reject him."
"But…he deserves this chance," Feldt said slowly. "He'll never take it, if he has a chance to avoid it…but he has the chance to meet his biological family."
Ms. Sumeragi smiled at her, her normal mischief tempered with a hint of mournfulness. "You know he's my little brother in every way that matters. But what if he's got a real big sister or mother out there somewhere, mourning someone who's alive? Isn't that worth a little meddling?"
Feldt shook her head. "You're his real big sister, too. You're the one who was here for him, right? But you're right…this deserves some meddling." She grinned. "And some planning, too. Tell me you have a tactical forecast for this."
Ms. Sumeragi grinned, and held up a finger. "This one's all about controlling the flow of knowledge. Mostly, the flow of knowledge to Allelujah. I'll set up a timetable, but you're gonna need to do a little recon for me."
"Recon, really?" Feldt asked, grinning back.
"Nothing major," Ms. Sumeragi said. "I just need to be certain about all of the variables…"
"Commencing…"well, not armed, "commencing intervention, then!" Feldt said, cheerily.
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The door of the traditional crafts co-op's workshop swung open, stirring loose a small shower of dust from the lintel. Arman looked up from the belt he was embroidering and winced at the sight of some of it settling on a stack of cashmere scarves. He'd have to ask one of the younger girls who were carding wool right now to rinse them out later in the afternoon.
Through the open door came a blast of heat, normal for midsummer in southern Kazakhstan—though, since he'd been born in northern Kazakhstan, which was closer in climate to Siberia than to the rest of Europe, he still found the heat annoying at times. The heat was followed by the familiar figure of an aging woman with clay-brown skin dressed in an unseasonable long skirt, her brown eyes alight with mischief.
Grinning, his aunt Samal shook out hair as grey and soft-looking as uncarded wool and asked, "What would you give me for a suyinshi?"
Immediately, Arman felt the eyes of every other person in the workshop turn on him. A suyinshi was a gift given for a piece of particularly good news, and that made the conversation interesting for two reasons. The first was, of course, potential gossip. The second was the fact that Arman was known as one of the best traditional embroiderers in this part of Kazakhstan. So a suyinshi from him was likely to be something nice.
Well, he'd been intending it to be a birthday present…but if this was really news that good, it would be worth it. He reached under a pile of embroidered vests and pulled out a leather handbag decorated with interlaced, swirling lines of primary color.
He looked at her and raised an eyebrow. The women and men using looms at the back of the shop made a small ooh-ing noise when he asked, "Is it worth this?"
"Absolutely," she said, without hesitating.
That was about when Arman started to feel nervous. Aunt Samal may have been a supervisor at a telecom company rather than a craftsperson, but she knew his craft from years watching him practice it under her roof. If he was the best traditional embroiderer in the area, she was the woman who'd raised him, at least since the Solar Energy Wars took his parents, and she had more than enough knowledge to see that what he was offering her was something he could sell for good money. It was one thing for him to give it as a gift, but as an exchange…it was a little extravagant.
What was actually this big? Had one of his foster-brothers gotten engaged, maybe? Maybe Aunt Samal had gotten engaged, or someone had won money, or inherited money…
He handed her the purse, aware that across the workshop, his co-workers were quietly setting down their shuttles, moving their feet away from the pedals of spinning wheels, tucking their needles into fabric and rolling up their knitting as they strained to listen.
"What is it?" he asked.
"You should put down your work first," Aunt Samal said, almost gently.
Arman obeyed automatically, laying on his lap and looking up at her.
"That email we got from the government, last week, it wasn't right," Aunt Samal said, and all of the sudden, hope bloomed warm, sharp and painful in Arman's chest. "Arystan is alive."
"He—wha—" Arman managed to choke out before Aunt Samal swept him up into a hug.
"He's living in Tokyo with his fiancée, and one of his friends has made travel arrangements for us so we can go meet him," Aunt Samal continued, voice soft and almost sing-song as she rubbed his back.
The belt he'd been working on was probably on the floor. It was probably filthy by now because too many people walked through the workroom for even regular sweeping to keep the floor clean. He'd have to wash that out himself, since it was his own fault for having a breakdown in the middle of the workroom over his lost little brother.
But…he'd spent years thinking that he'd lost Arystan, in the same week that his parents had died, only to find out last week that his baby brother had been stolen by the government and experimented on. And then killed—no, disposed of.
When he'd first come here, Aunt Samal had taken him to therapists, and they'd all told him not to dwell on his experiences during the war too much. He'd started doing traditional crafts as a hobby to distract him from all of that. It had become his career when the sheer amount of practice he got using it as a distraction ended up making him unusually good at it. He'd only really stuck to it as a way of being traditional and Kazakh in the face of the HRL's, and then the A-Laws', embrace of all things modern and heterogeneous.
However, they also helped keep him on an even keel…until last week, where, despite having more than enough projects to do, he'd still managed to get thoroughly drunk twice and have four PTSD-fueled nightmares with his imagination's version of what had happened to Arystan at the Super-Soldier Institute's hands thrown in for good measure.
So, after all of that, to know that Arystan was alive…that he had a fiancée, and someone else who cared about him enough to pay for his family's transportation…
He pulled away from Aunt Samal, rubbing at suddenly-damp eyes. "Why didn't he contact us?"
"The girl who emailed me said that he's afraid we'll reject him," she said, frowning. "She said he's been through a lot, and the context of it…I don't think she just meant what the last email told us about. For one thing, he might have been in the military at some point."
So his baby brother hadn't just been experimented on before somehow escaping death. More than that had happened to him, including, possibly, fighting in one of the recent wars.
He swore softly, then said, "So, she made arrangements for you and me?"
"She said that you and I were the closest relatives, and that more people would probably be a little overwhelming," Aunt Samal said. "But she got us train tickets to the airport, and plane tickets, and even tickets for the bullet train in Tokyo we need to get to their neighborhood."
"Wow," Arman said. "Are his friends rich or something?"
"I think they must know someone who is," Aunt Samal said. "Maybe an ally or something. But, there's something more important that I need to show you!"
"What?"
"Look at this!" Samal said, taking out her smartphone. She brushed a finger across the screen, then flicked through a few menus. Her actions brought up a picture of a tall, muscular man in a fitted shirt, with skin the pale brown of her own and hair that was almost a mahogany shade, with an odd green sheen to it. His nose and cheekbones were all but identical to Arman's own.
"Is that…" his voice broke, and he could feel his cheeks burn with shame at the idea that anyone, particularly his coworkers, was seeing him like this.
"He sure grew up handsome," Aunt Samal observed. "The girl who emailed me says this picture's a good two years old, but it's still quite something, isn't it?"
"Yeah," Arman said softly, his vision blurring as he stared at the phone. Arystan's eyes were mismatched, one as grey as his own and the other an unnerving golden shade, but they were soft, if a bit tired looking and edged by lines that aged him beyond his—Allah, he would be 24 in this picture and 26 today.
"He calls himself Allelujah now," Aunt Samal said softly, pulling away the phone. "I'll send you the picture."
"A-le-lu-yaa?" Arman echoed. Mindful of their audience, he didn't say, I guess it's better than E-0057, but he couldn't quite keep his stomach from twisting at the reminder of how the initial email had referred to his younger sibling.
"It's a Greek version of a Hebrew word," Aunt Samal said. "It means the same thing as alhamdulillah."
Arman wasn't a very devout Muslim, but he went to mosque occasionally, on the big holidays, and he knew enough to understand that phrase. He couldn't help wondering how a boy living in the Super-Soldier Institute had ended up with a name with such a meaning, but that was a question to ask his brother, when he met the man.
"Thanks be to God," he said, grinning, as dozens of questions bubbled up from his co-workers.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Allelujah frowned, adjusted the position of his wrist, and attempted to get his spatula under the omelet sizzling merrily in the middle of the cast iron pan in front of him. He had only lifted it a few inches when it tore. He swore loudly and flipped the damaged omelet as quickly as he could.
Marie snickered, and he glared at her over his shoulder. She just looked up at him from her place at the kitchen table, looking innocent.
"Saji told you to stick to scrambled eggs for now, you know," she said.
He scowled, and turned back to the range, where the egg was still bubbling and steaming. "I'm a super-soldier; I should be able to do this much."
"You're a super-soldier who's only had about three cooking lessons," Marie pointed out. "Don't be so hard on yourself."
He took a handful of cheese out of a bowl beside the stovetop and sprinkled it on the egg, then folded it over. "This is a basic life skill. A simple one. If I want to live on Earth, I need learn to cook. You already did it, and you were younger then!"
"That probably made it easier for me," Marie observed. "Don't worry, Alle, you'll get it, I promise."
"Easy for you to say," Allelujah replied, without heat, flipping the omelet.
When it looked finished, he grabbed a plate out of an overhead cupboard, moved the omelet onto it, and then switched off the burner. Picking up the plate, he walked over to the table and bent down over his fiancée to set down the eggs in front of her. He grinned at her, then took advantage of his position to give her a quick kiss.
After that, he got his own omelet out of the oven, where he'd left it to warm, and joined Marie at the table. He stared down at his own breakfast…which was torn in several places, and actually somewhat resembled a yellow version of a blown hydraulic line he'd helped Ian fix once.
"So, do I get a fork today, or are you insisting on chopstick practice?" Marie asked.
"That wasn't me, that was Saji," Allelujah said, holding up his hands. "I was just agreeing with him because…I don't really know why, actually."
"Because you're kind of a pushover when it comes to anything you don't have strong convictions about," Marie said, smiling. "It's all right, I think it's cute."
Allelujah leaned back and reached for a drawer behind him, then grabbed two forks. "Forks this morning, here you go," he said, reaching over to hand one to her.
Allelujah's cell phone, lying forgotten somewhere in the living room, started ringing loudly, startling him badly enough to drop the fork.
"Were you expecting a call?" Marie asked, startled.
"No!" he replied, alarmed. After the ELF disaster only a few months, they were both rightfully more paranoid, and the list of people who would be calling them was much shorter, what with Setsuna off across the universe, and Saji and Louise in the apartment across the hall.
Allelujah was the first to the phone. When he picked up, Sumeragi Lee Noriega's face came into focus in the air above the phone's screen, which did nothing for Allelujah's sudden anxiety.
He recalled, suddenly, the call they'd gotten a few days ago, from Feldt, when she'd asked how long they thought they might need to leave their newly-bought apartment in an emergency. Had they been expecting something else to happen?
"Ms. Sumeragi, what's happening?" he asked, aware that his nervousness was showing on his face.
He felt Marie's hand on his shoulder as he stared down on at her image.
"It's nothing bad, Allelujah," Ms. Sumeragi said. "I just wanted to warn you in advance about your guests."
"What guests?" Allelujah asked sharply. "Ms. Sumeragi, what did you do?"
Ms. Sumeragi's expression turned serious. "I meddled, and if you want to be angry, you have the right, but I don't regret what I did and I think you'll thank me eventually."
"What did you do?"
"I contacted the relatives that the SSI records release found for you and asked Marina Ismail to help us pay for them to come to Tokyo," Ms. Sumeragi said.
"You—dear God, what?" Allelujah barked, feeling his knees go dangerously weak even as his eyes narrowed.
"Maybe you don't think you deserve to meet him," Ms. Sumeragi said, tone hardening. "But look me in the eye and tell me that your brother deserves to think that you were disposed of by the HRL for being defective when you're alive and well."
"My—my brother?" Allelujah breathed. He felt Marie's hand grip his shoulder.
"His name is Arman, and he's 29 years old," Ms. Sumeragi said. "You were separated from him and your parents during the chaos of the Solar Energy Wars in Kazakhstan—"
"I'm from Kazakhstan?" Allelujah whispered, wondering, sitting down slowly as Ms. Sumeragi continued. He felt the couch sink under him as Marie settled beside him.
"—And when he survived the conflict, he was sent to live with your aunt, Samal, who lived in the south and is the other person you'll be meeting this evening," Ms. Sumeragi finished.
"Sent to live with—then, my parents are…" Allelujah trailed off.
In the projected image, Ms. Sumeragi closed her eyes, pained. "I'm sorry."
Allelujah felt more numb than anything at the revelation. It was difficult to grieve people he'd never known…and honestly, there was a shameful part of himself that was deeply relieved at not having to explain what he'd done with his life, or what had been done to him, to his mother and father.
"This evening?" Marie asked sharply, her tone closer to Soma's than usual.
Ms. Sumeragi laughed nervously. "Maybe I should call back later…." she said.
"Wait!" Allelujah said. "What time? What are their surnames? Do they know how to get here? What do they even look like?"
"Approxiamately five p.m., Temirovich Aliyev and Kanatevna Karimov respectively, yes, and you'll just have to wait and see," Ms. Sumeragi said, a smug smile on her lips.
"Ms. Sumeragi, you can't just—I don't want to—I told you I didn't want them to know about me!" Allelujah protested.
"They're your family, and you have a chance to meet them," Ms. Sumeragi said firmly. "If it goes badly, you never have to see them again. But at least you'll have tried."
"You need to stop forcing my fiancée into things," Marie said quietly.
"Yes, it's going to be your job, soon; you should start doing it," Ms. Sumeragi said blithely. "Now, I'm about to go on shift, so I have to end the call. Please let me know how it goes."
The hologram winked out of existence.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Saji had never really had much endurance—not in battle, and certainly not when it came to romantic comedies. He was thrilled that Louise was finally home to watch one again, and that it could even make her smile occasionally…but wow, it was boring. Not exactly his idea of how he wanted to spend a day off. Louise's latest actor-crush, a Union-born brunette who vaguely reminded Saji of Lasse Aion, had just stormed out of his female-love-interest's apartment after a completely avoidable argument, and Saji was beginning to pity him and his delusion that he could actually escape.
But then, there was the part that made it nearly worth it. Louise snuggled up against him, her hair slightly scratchy against his cheek as she nestled her head between his neck and shoulder. Even after switching through three shampoo brands, it was still constantly dried-out, a side-effect of one of the medications her doctors still had her on. But she was here, a reassuring, if slightly heavy, weight pressing down on his left thigh.
Which was rapidly going numb. Joy. He didn't want her to move, but the pins and needles were going to hurt, and he was, as Louise liked to remind him, "Still as much of a wuss as ever even if you did pilot a Gundam for a while."
Not-Lasse-the-actor was…why was he at a baseball game? Whatever, who cared, he was saying something and Louise was perking up in interest, which meant that Saji needed to pay attention.
Of course, that was when someone knocked on the door.
Louise groaned softly in annoyance and turned her face into his shoulder. "Don't answer it," she whispered into his sweater.
"What if it's important?" Saji argued, gently pulling away from her and getting up.
He walked back to the entryway, the plush carpeting of their small apartment pliant and cushiony under his stocking feet. The photos hanging on the wall on the wall registered in his peripheral vision even as the knocking continued and he walked faster.
When he finally opened the door, he tried very hard not to panic.
Allelujah was standing there, every muscle in his body tensed. He was sniffling slightly, and his cheeks were a raw red to match his bloodshot, wet eyes. His hair was disheveled, and the hand that was even now carding through it gave Saji a clue as to why. The last time he'd seen Allelujah Haptism looking this rough, he'd been fresh out of four years of A-Law prison and an unexpected encounter with his long-lost love. Speaking of her, Marie stood a half-step behind him, a hand clasped around his arm with a grip that seemed equally intended to comfort and to prevent him from running. She looked more put together, but there was a noticeable dark spot coloring the front of her silk peasant blouse. And, given that the two of them were here, in the middle of the day…
"What happened?" Saji asked, already mentally running through what they'd need to pack if they had to leave in a hurry. They'd done laundry yesterday, thank heaven, and he'd recently withdrawn a decent amount of money so that he and Louise could go on a day trip to a rural farmers' market—
"God help me, you're thinking of what you'll need to bring if I'm here to tell you we have to leave, aren't you?" Allelujah said, voice rising hysterically. "You're supposed to be the civilian. They're going to run away screaming, I know they are."
"They?" Saji repeated. "Allelu—" He broke off, after seeing the blank, panicked look on the other man's face. "Marie. What happened?"
"Allelujah has something he'd like to ask you about," Marie said, gently nudging her fiancé's arm.
Allelujah practically jumped, then said, "U-uh, yeah. Saji, will you help me make dinner?"
Saji blinked. "Excuse me, what?"
"Whaddya need his help with dinner for?" Louise asked. Saji startled slightly—between the military training and the fuzzy socks she'd bought last week, his girlfriend was stealthy. He hadn't even heard her come up behind him.
"We have unexpected company," Allelujah said, rubbing at his eyes. "I want to make them food. Not just omelets, good food."
"Is someone from Celestial Being—" Saji asked.
"No," Allelujah said.
"Then, who?" Louise asked, sounding so much like her nosy high school self it almost hurt. "You two don't get out much, and I can't think of anyone from the A-Laws who would visit unexpectedly."
"Colasour," Marie said, drawing out the word like a curse.
"True," Louise said, faintly amused. "But Commander Mannequin-Colasour wouldn't let him."
"Also true," Marie said, inclining her head slightly.
"It's family," Allelujah whispered, his voice strained.
Saji let his jaw hang. "Family?" he asked. Who? Marie's adoptive family, even that Andrei jerk, are dead. And Allelujah's told me he has no idea who his even—
"My brother, and my aunt," Allelujah said, eyes unfocused. "This doesn't even seem real. Marie, are you sure…"
Marie looked at him, eyebrows drawn together and lips pursed so tightly that they were paler than her hair. She took a breath. "It's not Hallelujah. Or a dream. This is real."
"You found them?" Saji asked.
"Ms. Sumeragi found them and then invited them to our house without telling us," Allelujah said, his voice deepening to a growl as he spoke. "I swear, I'm going to—"
"Hallelujah, not helping!" Marie snapped. "He already thinks he's hallucinating—"
Allelujah—no, Hallelujah—snickered.
"—and I promise you will get to meet them, eventually," Marie said. "Unless they really can't handle Alle, in which case they absolutely won't be ready for you."
"Fine," Hallelujah muttered.
And just like that, Allelujah was back, blinking, disoriented, and steadying himself against their doorway.
Saji glanced backward at Louise, who in turn cast a mournful glance at her interrupted movie before nodding.
"Why don't you two come in?" Saji asked.
"Thank you," Marie said, wrapping a careful hand around her boyfriend's waist even as he started panicking.
"Oh God, Hallelujah got out again, I am so sorry," Allelujah babbled, frantic. "That was—it really wasn't more than a few moments, was it? It only felt like a few moments but sometimes it gets confusing…"
"Only a few seconds," Marie said softly, leading him over to the couch. "He came out with your anger and left when I told him to."
"Thank God," Allelujah said. "Saji, I'm so sorry to ask you about this, but I really want to do something, and they're supposed to be here by five, that's not enough time to hire a caterer, even…"
"So, wait, seriously, let me get this straight," Saji said, sitting down next to them. "Ms. Sumeragi found your aunt and your brother, who you've never met, and invited them to your apartment without telling you? And they're coming tonight?"
"That's right," Allelujah said blankly. "My brother's name is Arman. He's older than me."
Louise cursed under her breath as she settled in next to Saji. "Is that why you look like a mess?"
"Y-yeah," Allelujah said. "Marie had to calm me down. A lot."
Now that he was seated, some of the tension had bled out of his posture, and he just looked exhausted. Carefully, Saji reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.
"I'll help you make dinner," he said, smiling. "It'll be amazing. They'll love it."
Allelujah smiled back weakly. "Yeah, I bet they will," he said. "I just wish I was sure that they were going to like me."
"They will, Alle," Marie said, voice worn thin.
"You don't know—" Allelujah said.
"Would it help to have more people there?" Louise asked.
Allelujah tilted his head to one side, thoughtful. "Maybe, yeah."
Saji removed his hand from Allelujah's shoulder, and turned to glance at Louise. She avoided his eyes. She misses this sort of thing, he realized. She doesn't have family anymore, and neither do I…and it might help Allelujah, too…
"It might be nice to have us there, at least for a while," Saji suggested. "Y'know, as a kind of buffer?"
Allelujah nodded, decisive. "Yeah," he said. "You should come."
Saji took a deep breath. "Okay, well, then, we should get some food together. Do you think they'll like Japanese food or Spanish food better?"
"I don't know?" Allelujah said. "There's practically nothing on the internet about what people eat in Kazakhstan …"
"Kazakhstan?" Saji asked.
"Uh, it's where my family is from," Allelujah said, looking a bit overwhelmed. "Where I'm from, I guess. All I really know is that they eat bread there."
"That's not much," Louise observed.
Saji was quiet for a few moments. "We're in Japan; I'll make Japanese food," he said. "If they don't like it, we'll figure something out later on."
"O-okay," Allelujah said softly.
Saji looked at him carefully. He still looked exhausted…and Louise still looked put out about missing the end of her movie.
"Marie and I will go shopping for ingredients," he said. "You and Louise can start the rice and finish up the movie."
Allelujah stared up at him, his terrified expression amusing on the face of a person who had defeated armies of mobile suits singlehandedly. "I don't know how to make rice," he said. "We haven't gotten to that."
He definitely needs to sit down and watch the movie with Louise, Saji thought. Even if his relatives are really nice, he'll never make a good impression on them if he's this tightly wound.
Aloud, Saji laughed softly. "All right, I'll show you how to start the rice, and then, we'll go shopping."
A/N: The fic title is pulled from the Kazakh proverb "He is a fool who has forgotten what became of his ancestry seven generations before him and who does not care what will become of his progeny seven generations after him." (source: Kazakhstan: Unfulfilled Promise by Martha Brill Olcott)
I'll be posting some meta about how I approach writing Hallelujah and Allelujah on Tumblr eventually, if anyone is interested in that-since this is the longest fic with those two I've ever written. All stuff related to this fic will be under the Tumblr tag "what became of his ancestry" which is currently not being used by anyone else.
The cover image is a closeup of an embroidered Kazakh garment from the Moscow Museum of art, by the way.
