How Far We Are

"Next!"

Lucía patted her mother's knee, waking her up from her restless slumber. They quickly picked up their ragged bags and made their way over to the counter.

"Name?"

"Hawke. Lucía Hawke." She pointed to her companions, "Carver Hawke, Leandra Amell, and Bethany Hawke."

The last name was said in such a hurry that the officer took his apathetic eyes away from the form he had started to fill to take a look at the last member of the family. He rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Nationality?"

"Fereldan."

"How long will you be staying?"

"I hope many years."

"You must know, Miss Hawke, that you won't be eligible for any kind of pension for at least 7 years."

"Yes, I know it."

"You understand this."

"Yes."

The officer looked at her.

"I suggest you look for another place, Miss Hawke. It is obvious from the look of all of you," he eyed the rest of the group, "that you need financial and social assistance badly. You will not find it here." He reached out to get the stamp of 'Rejected', but her hand stopped him.

"Please, sir. We don't have another place to go." Lucía's cheeks burnt with shame.

"Miss…" The man withdrew his hand contemptuously.

"We can't return."

"I've already heard that story from half of Ferelden. There's nothing I can do for you. I'm sorry."

"I don't need you to do something for me. I only ask that you permit I have this chance…" Her dark eyes looked aside, and even though the fringe almost covered them, he saw the glistening of tears.

Lucía took a deep breath and glanced at her family. Her mother was wiping the drool falling off her sister's cheek –Bethany's self-control had suffered greatly with the exodus and today was a rather difficult day– and her brother was hiding under his cap as usual. She could feel his vulnerability, in spite of the macho attitude he'd adopted after their father had left them.

For her, it was a lost battle. She had no way of persuading someone in a language that she didn't fully understand, let alone a government employee. Those were hard to persuade in any language. She closed her eyes and swallowed her pride.

"I will do anything."

The officer raised an eyebrow. Her cheeks were red. Surely she hadn't meant…?

"Miss…"

"Anything."

The fire in her eyes made his heart skip a beat. He cleared his throat and played with a pen. What to do. It wouldn't be easy, and it could possibly be dangerous. If someone at the Department leaked that he was helping a family of refugees with an amenta, he'd probably lose more than the annual bonus. But there was something about this woman that told him that, given a chance, she would make it. He wondered about the hundreds of people that were turned down every day, and if his companions felt the same way about them.

"Listen: there's no place or opportunity for you in this city, but there's a train that leaves at 9 tonight, departing from Platform 8 at Central. If you contact this person," he scribbled a name and directions on a slip of paper, "he'll be able to help you."

"But…"

"Believe me, it's your only chance." His green eyes were fixed on her. He didn't blink. She nodded and thanked him silently. "Tell him… Tell him that Broody sent you. I'm giving you a limited pass. You can reapply for citizenship in two years, but not before. If you're lucky, you'll be someone by that time."

He took the 'Temporary approval' stamp from his desk and applied it to the form. He signed his name –L. Fenris– at the bottom of the page and slid it over the counter towards her. She took the form and clutched the other piece of paper with a trembling hand.

"Thank y-"

"Next!" His eyes looked away.

Lucía turned around and sighed with relief. She waved at her family with the form, much to the joy of Leandra and Carver, took Bethany by the hand, and walked out of the Migration Pavillion.

When she told them about what had happened with the clerk, Carver snorted.

"I can't believe you fell for that! He surely did it to get rid of you, dumbass! I swear, I don't know why we let you do everything for us. That's it, next time I'm taking care of things."

"Carver, please." Leandra put a hand over her son's shoulder. He shrugged it off.

"Alright then, let's go to this 'magical' station, to see what help we can get."

They walked the 30 blocks that separated them from the station because they didn't have enough money for transport. Bethany complained once, but Lucía offered to buy her something to drink once they got there, and the girl had calmed down. When they reached the station, it was almost time for the train to leave. She read the name and directions on the paper and frantically look for a match among the hundreds of faces walking up and down the platform. And then she saw him, standing at the steps of the last wagon, in a worn-out suede jacket and half-finger gloves.

"Andrés?"

The man didn't reply. She called his name again and ran towards him. A short man who was standing next to the man patted him with the back of his hand and nodded towards her. The man turned around and raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Andrés?" Lucía asked, panting.

The man frowned for a second and then smiled.

"Anders."

Lucía re-read the slip of paper. She blushed.

"Sorry, I read it bad. Anders, my name is Lucía Hawke. This is my family. A man called Broody told me to find you. He says you can help us, yes? That the train can take us to another city where we can stay?"

Anders looked at the Hawke family. The mother and the boy didn't stir anything in him, but the girl… He felt a voice in his head, telling him they had to help her.

"Okay…" he said slowly. "You can come with us, but you must know that where we're going is a difficult place. Very few people succeed."

Lucía's heart sank a little.

"Still," he continued, "it's not impossible to make a living, provided you're not afraid of working hard."

"I'm not." Lucía shook her head emphatically.

"Okay then! My associate here, Varric, will help you with whatever luggage you have. I hope you're not squeamish about the seating arrangement…"

"Oh no, we're not squeakish," she said hurriedly.

Anders gave her a half-veiled smile. He shook her hand warmly.

"Welcome to the Free Marches. Get a seat. We're leaving in ten minutes. Say goodbye to Kirkwall, at least for some time. If you're lucky, when you come back, everything will be different." There was a light in his eyes that made her believe that change was possible.

"Change," she nodded. Things can only look up for the Hawkes, she thought.

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Title: 'How far we are' is a line from Enya's song "Fallen Embers" - the title of the story is "Falling Embers" because of the same song, and also because to me it's reminiscent of an in-game part.