A/N: This chapter is where it becomes very apparent that I have a lot of headcanons which I have incorporated into my fic. Also, there will be discussion of PTSD in this fic—I made effort to do research, but there may be mistakes—and that also starts in this chapter, to some extent.

Like most writers, I attribute narration and thoughts ("he said," "Marie thought," etc.) but to make Hallelujah and Allelujah's internal dialogues easier to read, I have also chosen to bold and italicize Hallelujah's thoughts while only italicizing Allelujah's. (Ex: No, Allelujah thought. Yes, Hallelujah thought.)

Updates are now officially every Friday! The chapter title explanation can be found in the endnote.

Chapter 2: Konak Asy

The afternoon passed in a flurry of activity. By 4:45, Allelujah had learned how to make rice, watched the end of a movie he knew nothing about…and then moved back to his own apartment, where he helped unpack a massive amount of groceries, then spent hours alternating between cutting things up for Saji, watching TV, and freaking out in his bedroom. And now, he was setting the table, while Saji watched a steaming skillet of fish and vegetables simmer on the stovetop, and Louise grumpily stirred a mixture of sugar and vinegar into a bowl of rice at the counter. Marie, who had just finished butchering the beef Saji was cooking, had earned her TV rotation and was watching a modeling competition show in the living room.

As Allelujah set out the last of the cups, he had a thought. "Did we buy drinks?" he asked.

"…no," Saji said, looking alarmed. "Louise, do we have any soda?"

"Uh, I think we've got a bottle of Coca-Cola in the fridge?" Louise said. "You're the only one who drinks it."

"There's tea in the cupboard, too," Saji said. "Marie, I'm sorry to ask, but could you go get it?"

"Sure," Marie said, getting up. "Do you want me to bring anything else? I'm not sure we have enough chopsticks for everyone."

"I don't think people in Kazakhstan use chopsticks," Saji said. "It would be pretty mean to ask them to learn a new utensil when they're already meeting new people."

He pulled his keys out of his pocket, held them up, and tossed them toward Marie. Marie caught them without looking up.

"I'll be back in a second." she said.

With his task complete, Allelujah sank down into his chair. They had fifteen minutes until his relatives were supposed to be here. That was fifteen minutes to worry and obsess. He'd gone over all of this before, of course—but he couldn't really keep himself from doing it, not anymore. The sensation in his stomach could only be described as butterflies if there were some variety of butterfly that ate flesh.

Thinking of that put him in mind of the OO Gundam's in Trans-Am mode, a terrifying war machine with sparkling particles streaming forth from it in every direction, and he swallowed a hysterical chuckle.

But—his brother. Someone who was to him what Neil was to Lyle. Lyle tried to hide it, but Allelujah could tell how much his efforts to not be Neil had shaped him. Was that how all brothers were? Or was that just twins? He and Marie had seen other siblings on their travels. Some had gotten along; others had all but loathed one another. Saji had a sister, once—but he'd said she was more like a mother, so maybe that didn't count.

And an aunt…he wasn't even sure what you did with aunts. No one in Celestial Being had any—or if they did, they never mentioned them, even after the ban on talking about people's pasts was lifted. So, maybe aunts weren't important? But this felt important. Maybe because he just had an aunt, and not a mother or father to meet, it was different for him.

He didn't know what to do with a family. After his travelling, he'd finally sort of figured out what to do with civilian strangers. But people who wanted to know more about him than how he was enjoying the country he was currently in? He had no idea. The last civilian stranger he'd met was Saji, and, honestly, he didn't remember a lot of that. He'd been able to pass off his lack of competence at that time as trauma…or maybe he'd been too traumatized to even apply the little knowledge he'd had? He wasn't sure. Other than Saji, well, Christina had been…kind of civilian, except that it had been an act that no one but Tieria had really fallen for.

He was so completely unready for this.

Naturally, that was when the door open, and Marie walked back in, flanked by two strangers.

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Arman wasn't sure he liked Tokyo. He'd been in a large city before—or at least, he'd thought he had—but Astana was tiny compared to this place. This city was huge and crowded, every twisting road and side-street congested with people and vehicles. If he let himself think about it, he started to have trouble breathing just at the thought of how many people there were around him. He didn't belong in a place this big.

But, somehow his brother did. And if he wanted to meet him, he'd have to bear it. So he clutched the handle of his luggage tightly enough that the grooves in it dug into his skin as he and Samal made their way through Tokyo's crowded sidewalks. Yet another stranger jostled him, and he glanced back at Samal, hoping to find an encouraging smile on her face. Instead, he saw a slightly strained grimace, and followed her gaze to a horrifyingly crowded area across the street, covered in signage.

"What is that place?" he asked softly, following her to the crosswalk.

As they walked, Samal glanced down at her phone, then at one of the signs. "According to the information Ms. Feldt gave me, that's the bullet train station."

Arman swore.

The bullet train was a claustrophobic nightmare that, according to Samal's phone, took half as long as it seemed to take. When they finally staggered off, they were in a slightly less crowded part of the city, still surrounded by towering buildings of mostly glass that reflected the sun so brightly that it hurt his eyes to look at them.

They spent a few blocks following Samal's GPS and gathering subtle, curious looks from other people on the street. Finally, they came to an apartment building that was a bit shorter and sturdier-looking than some of the others in the neighborhood.

Now, they just had to find the apartment.

The lobby was large and plain, white walls paired with blue carpets. A desk attendant gave them a curious look but didn't stop them from entering.

Good, Arman thought. Airport security was bad enough.

As they got into the elevator, Samal checked the information Ms. Feldt—such a strange name, he thought—had given them. "Apartment 548," she said.

"Okay," Arman replied, hitting the button labelled "5" and then waiting for the door to close. "Samal…what do you think he'll be like?"

"I don't know," Samal said. "From what Ms. Feldt said, he's had a hard life, but….she cared enough to bring us to meet him. So, whatever happened to him, he's still got people who care about him. I hope that means that he's at least a little happy."

Sobered, Arman said, "Me too."

The elevator opened with a ding, into a corridor that matched the lobby that they'd just left. Doors lined both sides, but Arman couldn't see apartment numbers anywhere.

How do we find it now? He wondered.

Just as he was starting to panic, he caught sight of a woman with long white hair leaving one of the apartments a few yards away from them.

"Miss!" he called out in English, hoping he'd be understood. "Can you help me find an apartment?"

The woman turned around—she was young, far too young to have white hair, so maybe it was platinum blonde?—and smiled at him.

"Of course," she replied, also in English. "Where are you trying to go?"

She walked over, cradling a bottle of cola and a box of tea in one arm, her eyes suddenly widening as she got closer to them. They were an unnerving shade of golden-yellow, he noticed.

"Wait—are you Arman?" she asked softly.

Arman drew back, surprised.

She held up her free hand, as if to show that she was unarmed. "I'm Marie; I'm your brother's fiancée," she said. "It's really nice to meet you."

Caught off guard, Arman managed, "I guess you know my name already."

Marie giggled, the motion wrinkling her nose and the corners of her eyes, and sending strands of silvery-white hair spilling over her shoulders.

I haven't even met Allelujah, and I'm already a little jealous of him, Arman thought. She's beautiful.

"Good to meet you, Marie," Samal said, extending one hand as she lifted the other to gesture toward her chest. "I'm Samal, your fiancé's aunt."

Marie shook Samal's hand with her own free hand. "Good to meet you, too, Ms. Samal," she said. She released Samal's hand, then motioned toward a door further down the hallway. "Our apartment's this way."

Arman followed her, nervousness constricting his throat. He was about to meet Arys—no, Allelujah, the man called himself Allelujah now. What would he be like?

His fiancée seems very polite, he thought as he followed her down the hallway.

"I hope you haven't eaten yet; we asked some friends of ours to help us make dinner," Marie continued. She twisted the doorknob and then nudged the door open with her shoulder in a practiced-looking motion.

"Alle!" she called, as she stepped through the doorway. "They're here!"

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Allelujah at least had the presence of mind not to respond by saying, What, wait, now? aloud, but he certainly thought it. He shot up from his seat at the table, jarring every dish on it so that a soft clattering sound filled the kitchen and provided a nice, discordant backbeat to his panic.

He was prevented from having any sort of open freakout, however, by the fact that his relatives were physically present and in his apartment. Alive, and breathing, and…wow, they actually looked like him. He had half-expected his relatives would turn out like the Vashtis, with him looking as unrelated to the other two as Ian.

But the woman's skin was the same color as his—for all that she was round-faced and short, with cropped, grey hair that laid flatter than his ever had. And as for the man…he was practically what Allelujah would've been if he'd never gone to the SSI. Well, not quite. He was a few years older than Allelujah was, the hair he'd pulled back with a woven headband was a darker, purer shade of brown, and his skin was a lighter tone. But his eyes were both the same grey as Allelujah's own left eye, his facial structure was near-identical, especially in the cheekbones, and they were both roughly the same height.

Adding to the similarities, they were both staring at one another.

Okay, I'm the host, Allelujah thought, perhaps a bit hysterically. It's my job to make him feel at ease. I need to figure out a way to make this slightly less weird than it is. Oh my gosh. I have a brother—no, no this is not the time. Be a host, say something—

"Uh, hi?" Allelujah said, walking into the living room.

Anything but that, idiot! he thought. You are meeting your brother for the first time you can remember, you should say something more meaningful than "Hi," what is wrong with you?

I can answer that, Hallelujah piped up. Do you want the list chronologically by when it developed or in alphabetical—

Not now! Allelujah thought, a bit frantic. You will only get to meet them if I don't scare them away first and making me look insane is not going to help with that.

The man smiled, genuinely. What did Ms. Sumeragi say his name was? Allelujah thought, racking his brain for the answer.

Arman, Hallelujah replied, the image of a smirk flitting through Allelujah's mind along with the information.

Thank you, now leave, Allelujah thought, careful not to say the words aloud. He took a deep breath, then held out a hand.

"A-Arman, right?" he asked. "It's, um, very—"

He broke off as Arman abrubtly took his hand and shook it, his grip firm and warm. He was grinning, and his eyes were bright.

"It's really good to meet you," Arman said, in English. His voice was rough and Allelujah abruptly realized that he was near tears.

What, over meeting me? Allelujah asked. I'm not worth being upset over.

Shut up with your stupid self-esteem issues already and talk to this guy, Hallelujah barked. The sooner he likes you, the sooner I get to come out.

Startled, Allelujah blurted, "We made food. Because you were coming. I hope you like it."

What is wrong with you, gosh, say, 'nice to meet you, too,' he thought, half-furious with himself. You're always so direct with Marie, you were practically saying 'I love you' even back when she didn't know you from Adam, and this guy is related to you. He deserves better. What the heck, Allelujah?

He kept hold of Arman's hand, and added, "I'm really glad I'm getting to meet you too."

Arman smiled back, his expression still warm.

His companion sniffed the air and asked, "Is that why your apartment smells like a restaurant?"

Allelujah nodded. "Saji was the one who did most of the work," he said, gesturing toward his friend, who was busily moving platters from the counter to the table.

"Oh, let me help you with that!" the woman said. "I'll just be a minute. Allelujah, my name is Samal, and I'm your aunt. I really do want to speak with you more, but I feel awful letting, ah, Sarji—

"Saji," Louise corrected from the living room.

"Louise, be polite, you used to pronounce it 'Sají,'" Saji chided as he retrieved a pair of oven mitts from a drawer that Allelujah didn't remember putting any in.

"—put all the dishes out by himself," Samal finished, looking only mildly put out at the interruptions. "Now, why don't you boys go talk? Maybe the girls will come help us in the kitchen…"

"Louise is excused from anything that involves hot dishes for the forseeable future; there are medical reasons…" Allelujah listened to Saji ramble on out of one ear as he turned his attention to Arman.

"Let's, uh, go sit down," he said.

Arman nodded.

They sat down next to one another on the couch, while Louise perched in a nearby chair, presumably ready to offer aid or simply watch the unfolding drama as circumstances allowed.

"So, uh, how was your trip?" Allelujah asked lamely, berating himself inwardly for the poor choice of question.

"It was….your friend was very nice to purchase the tickets, but I have never been to a city this large before," Arman said, spreading out his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "The bullet train was very crowded."

Allelujah nodded. "I don't really like it either," he said. 'It makes me so claustrophobic that I can't actually deal with riding on it' is encompassed by 'not liking it,' right? "I'm glad that you got in safely though."

Arman smiled at him again, but it was tinged with sadness this time. "I am too. I can't believe this is really happening."

"It doesn't really feel real to me, either," Allelujah said, entirely honestly—because, with only a few hours' notice, he was still getting used to the idea that this was going to happen, much less the idea that it was actually happening right now.

"Tell me about yourself!" Arman said, enthusiastic, gesturing widely. "I want to know about…about everything I've missed. Or at least some of it. What do you do?"

"Right now, I look through classified ads and take cooking lessons," Allelujah blurted, without really thinking. "I, uh, don't have a job yet."

"So Marie's paying for the apartment?" Arman asked.

"Uh, no, that's our pensions," Allelujah said carefully.

"Dinner's ready!" Saji called, from the kitchen.

"What's this about pensions?" Samal asked.

"It's, uh, how we're paying for the apartment right now," Allelujah said, flushing a bit, as he sat down. "Um, you can sit wherever you like. We normally don't have guests other than Saji and Louise, so we're not really used to doing seating charts."

"So, you were in the military?" Samal asked, sitting down. "Which branch?"

Once he was in his seat, Saji bowed his head and clapped his hands together. Louise, Marie, and Allelujah immediately copied his motion. "Itadakimasu," they said at once.

Samal looked confused.

"What was that?" Arman asked.

"It's a Japanese custom," Saji said. "You do it before you eat."

"Oh, okay," Arman said, copying the motion and saying, "Itakadimasu," which was pretty close, for someone who'd only heard it said once.

His relatives successfully distracted from the complex question that was his military service, Allelujah dug into the food. He was happy to discover that he had not overdone the rice and, more importantly, that even if he had, all of Saji's food was too delicious for anyone to notice any of his minor errors.

"You're an excellent cook," Samal commented, glancing at Saji. "But, I've been wondering for a while…are you or your girlfriend related to Marie somehow?"

Saji, Louise, and Marie stared at her, wide-eyed.

"N-no!"

"Why would you think that?"

"I'm sorry, but that's impossible."

Allelujah looked from his friends and fiancée—two people who were the last remnants of their respective families, and a test tube baby from a different continent than either—and then to his relatives, who were confused at the offense the three had taken at the question.

"Actually, they're just really close friends," Allelujah said. "They're like family, but no one's related to anyone else."

"It's just that, if you look at Louise's and Marie's cheekbones—" Samal started.

"Marie's from the Institute, like Allelujah, and I'm a Halevy," Louise said flatly, with a quaver to her voice that Allelujah could barely make out. "Marie, Alle, can I use the bedroom?"

"Louise!" Marie said, half-scolding, half dismayed.

"Guess I'm not up to company," Louise said, a bit sharply. She looked pale.

"Go ahead," Allelujah said. "Feel better."

Louise pushed back her chair and walked back toward the bedroom, steadying herself against the wall with her flesh hand when possible but never even trying to use her artificial hand for that purpose. Crap. She only does that when she thinks she might have a seizure.

Saji had clearly noticed the same thing. He glanced after her, worried, but didn't get up.

Arman looked at the rest of their faces, alarmed. "What just happened?" he asked.

"Louise has some health problems," Saji said. "She hasn't been out of the hospital that long, and I guess we overestimated how much she could handle."

"Will she be okay?" Arman asked, concerned.

Allelujah felt a swell of affection for his sibling. Whatever else was true of his newfound relative, it was in his favor that he was compassionate enough to care about Louise's health.

"What did she mean about being a Halevy, though?" Samal asked.

Saji blinked. "You didn't hear about that?"

"About what?" Arman asked. "We…tend not to watch a lot of news, unless it's about Kazakhstan. It's better not to borrow the rest of the world's troubles."

The words would have normally annoyed Allelujah, but he saw the expression on Arman's face. He was avoiding something unpleasant. Allelujah might not be the only person here who was trying to put on a good face for his long-lost relative.

"The Halevy family was massacred during a family wedding by a group of pseudo-Gundam pilots," Marie explained. "Louise was the only survivor."

"Oh," Arman said softly.

"The poor girl," Samal said. "I can see that I was right when I thought that she seemed like a tough young woman."

"She is that," Saji said, with a slightly weak smile.

"So, how did you meet Allelujah?" Samal asked, after taking another bite of her meal.

Allelujah froze, but Saji just gave a small laugh. "The circumstances were a little complicated, but we probably wouldn't have met if it weren't for my old neighbor. He didn't exactly introduce us, but he's the reason I ended up in the same place as Allelujah."

"He doesn't live near here anymore, though?" Samal asked.

Allelujah couldn't help it, he laughed. "No," he said, still chuckling a bit. Marie jabbed him in the side.

Arman gave him a questioning glance.

"Setsuna—um, Saji's old neighbor—he's in space, right now," Allelujah explained, still grinning. "Like, on an exploration mission. He's probably about as far from this apartment as it's possible to be."

"Wow, you know an astronaut?" Arman asked. "That's…wow. I wanted to do that, for a little while, but it was a lot of school, so I decided against it…"

He trailed off, as Allelujah wondered, Does Setsuna even have any formal education? Then, a thought occurred to him.

"What do you do?" he asked.

Arman shrugged. "I work at a traditional crafts cooperative store. I do…well, uh, traditional embroidery, actually."

"Embroidery?" Saji repeated, incredulous.

"That's really cool," Allelujah said quietly. All this time, I didn't even know I was Kazakh, and he's been doing traditional crafts…it's enough to make a person feel a little inferior.

"Really?" Arman said. "Because, I mean, back home people think it's kind of nice, but I'd heard that in other countries—"

"Kind of nice?" Samal echoed, incredulous. "Arman, you're the top traditional embroiderer in our part of the country."

"Wait, really?" Allelujah asked.

Arman nodded, blushing.

"Did you hear that?" Allelujah asked, turning to Marie. "My brother's the best embroiderer in part of a country!" My brother can make things, instead of destroy them. My brother has a connection to his past. My brother is good at what his does. I have a brother and I can be proud of him. This is…kind of great.

Marie grinned back at Allelujah, then turned to Arman. "That really is pretty impressive."

"It's just embroidery," Arman said, dismissive.

"He sounds like Marina, saying, 'It's just singing,'" Louise announced, as she walked back into the room.

She looked shaky, but not bruised or ill. Whatever had happened had been unpleasant, but not bad enough to endanger her. Still, Saji was probably regretting his decision not to go back with her—but, on the other hand, he had agreed to let her handle her "episodes"—Louise's catch-all term for her panic attacks and seizures—alone if they were in private and she had time to get to a safe place to do so.

"Who's Marina?" Arman asked.

"The person who paid for your trip, probably," Marie said, neatly sidestepping the question.

"So you have more than one friend who could afford to pay for a trip like this?" Arman asked, looking surprised.

"Not really, but Ms. Sumeragi could've either asked her, or called in favors from some people who don't actually like me but owe her," Allelujah explained.

"Oh, yes, Ms. Feldt mentioned her," Arman said.

"Well, that proves that Feldt was involved," Allelujah said under his breath, glancing at Marie.

"I didn't think there was really a question about that," Marie replied, just as quietly.

"So, Arman does embroidery, what do you do?" Louise asked Samal.

"I work for a telecom company," Samal said. "Nothing exciting, but it pays the bills."

"Not every job has to be something exciting," Allelujah said.

"True enough," Samal said. "Say, you never told me what branch of the military you were in."

Avoiding the question twice would be suspicious, Allelujah thought, as he answered, "I piloted a mobile suit."

"Both of us did," Marie said, grabbing his hand and squeezing it in solidarity.

Arman looked distinctly troubled by the subject, and Allelujah couldn't help but be worried.

"Were you on the same team, then?" Samal asked. "Or squad, or group, or whatever they're calling them now."

Allelujah tried not to let panic show on his face, but before he could come up with a way to technically not lie, Arman asked, "What's wrong?"

He heard a soft sigh from Marie as he slumped forward, defeated. "We weren't…exactly…with the same military, always," he said.

Arman stared at them. "You're kidding."

"No, it was exactly like Romeo and Juliet but with giant robots," Louise broke in. "I wasn't there but Feldt and Milena gossip."

"What does that make you two, exactly?" Marie replied, annoyed.

Louise flushed and looks away.

Marie's smile was triumphant.

Allelujah wanted to hide in a hole somewhere.

"Wait—so, what, were you just in separate militaries, or were your countries actually fighting?" Samal asked.

"We were fighting," Marie corrected. "There was some confusion. We had been friends," she paused, suddenly uncomfortable, "in the Institute, but we didn't recognize one another at first."

"And then, once you did, did you quit?" Arman asked, wide-eyed.

"I already had ideological concerns about my chosen faction, so I chose to defect to Allelujah's side," Marie explained. "We stayed in the military until the war ended."

"Wow," Arman said. "That…wow. Samal, my little brother's fiancée defected from an army for him."

"I heard," Samal said indulgently.

"And you two also fought?" Arman asked. "Is everyone here a veteran?"

"All of us are," Saji said. "But…honestly, I don't really think that makes good dinner conversation."

Arman looked troubled again.

"I suppose not," Samal said, with a hum of agreement.

Allelujah slumped in his seat further. As the evening progressed, he became more and more convinced that Samal and Arman were avoiding the SSI deliberately, for his sake—and he did appreciate that. But asking about his later life wasn't a lot safer—not when he wasn't sure how they'd react to him being a member of Celestial Being, never mind the fact that he'd killed most of his fellow SSI test subjects and had been imprisoned as a terrorist for four years. None of that was dinner conversation, either.

He wanted to ask about his parents, but that would probably be painful for Arman, which made it a poor topic for dinner conversation as well. Arman, after all, probably remembered them—he might even remember Allelujah from before the Institute, back when he'd been…

Lord save me, he knows my birth name, Allelujah realized, all at once. I could ask him. He could tell me. I could know who I was before I was named by my future wife, before I was a test subject—

Except, how awful would it be to have someone ask you that? he thought. I'm sure he's considered the idea that I don't remember my name, since I'm not using it…but he might have convinced himself I have other reasons…he might even think I remember our parents. Great, another way I get to disappoint him. I hate Ms. Sumeragi so much, I hate Ms. Sumeragi so much—

You have exactly two seconds to get your crap together before I take over and say "Hi" to the family, Hallelujah interrupted. Your little ice queen probably thinks I already have, with how long you've been spaced out.

Don't you dare! Allelujah thought sharply. He blinked, refocusing his vision, and saw Marie looking at him, her expression a mixture of worry and extremely subtle caution.

"Sorry," Allelujah managed. "I just got lost in thought."

"Careful," Marie said. "Your food will get cold."

Allelujah nodded.

"Marie was telling us about how you travelled around the world after the war," Samal said. "I think it sounds like it must've been lovely."

Allelujah managed a genuine smile at that.

"It was," he said. "I think my favorite place was Morocco."

"You just liked Morocco because of that one place with the cheap dessert menu," Marie accused.

"Is that such a bad thing?" Allelujah replied, grinning.

He wanted his family to have this, a mental image of the two of them having fun and teasing one another, before he had to talk to them about everything else.

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A/N: 'Konak Asy' is variously defined as "food for guests," or "entertaining guests." It is sometimes associated with the old custom of making a traditional mutton-based dish called beshbarmak when a guest comes by butchering a sheep when they arrive, a tradition that dates back to when the Kazakh people were largely nomadic.

One of my more minor headcanons is that Louise's prosthetic, while realistic, is not heatproof—thus she has to be careful in carrying hot things in this fic.

More info/updates on the fic can be found on my tumblr (ninthfeather dot tumblr dot com) under the "what became of his ancestry" tag.