A/N: Here's another FGB drabble, this time for bsmog. She asked for EPOV. This one dovetails with the previous drabble. I've got a few more drabbles to fill in some info before I get to the big oneshot. I'm guessing she'd let me share this, since she let me share the last drabble, the Seth POV from Support Stacie.

Erinnerung

I was getting used to the observing, learning how to watch without eyes. All my senses were combined now. I followed her movements as much as I checked on my family to see how they were coping. Not very well, I noted, feeling a momentary twinge of guilt. But then I felt the calm settle over me. It was hard to hold onto any emotion here. Most of the time I simply was.

I tried to send a message to Alice, because I knew she was near the voice that called to me. I could feel their thoughts mingling, even though they didn't know each other. The voice was with my sister—my other one, not the baby girl I'd never gotten to know.

I was still trying to find Emmy. She had to be here somewhere, but maybe I wouldn't have recognized her. Did she stay frozen as a baby? What was I? Was I still the same age as I was at the crash? I felt the same, but how much time had gone by? I thought about how I was able to hear my family and wondered if little baby Emmy had been listening for me this whole time. Would she have warned me about getting on that plane? Why couldn't I feel her?

It struck me then that aside from the tugging of grief back to the other side, I felt alone. Why couldn't I feel anyone else? Was I stuck? I almost panicked, but then the calm and light settled over me again.

My thoughts shifted back to the other side, to the dual pulling from that voice and Alice. How strange, to feel both of their thoughts, feel both of their grief tear through my mind at once. I was frustrated. I wanted to make things right. I would have punched things if I still had hands. Oh, Alice, my sweet baby girl, I thought, go to her. Maybe she can help. Her thoughts stayed the same color of sorrow. I tried to compress all my atoms into a single, dense ball. Go to her, I thought again, focusing my thoughts like a laser. It's your Eddie. Go to her. Find her.

Had it worked? I wished I could see. I wished I could be there, make things right. Suddenly I could feel it—something had changed. The two beacons of grief came closer and closer together until they were in the same place, one amplified by the other. It was almost too much for me to feel.

I was shocked to see a memory I didn't even remember: me pushing Alice in a swing when she was still small—I guessed it must have been soon after Mom and Dad had adopted her. Alice was laughing, just genuinely laughing, her mouth open, her eyes wide with delight. Now that I saw this borrowed memory, I could remember my fingers curled and springing against the swing seat as I pushed her higher, higher. If I had breath, it would have been sucked from me from the vividness of the image, from the intensity of how much I missed Alice right then.

Who was this voice who knew these secret, lost memories? It was a gift, remembering the feel of rubber on fingertips, the way Alice's hair ruffled in the wind, the pride I felt in my heart, the love I could barely contain for my perfect new sister.

The beacons were separate again, mourning in their own, separate ways. I tucked the new memory in my consciousness. Don't forget again, I thought, as I felt the tugging shift slightly, the grieving souls once again wandering independently, tiny tugs of grief from all over the earth, lighting up like runway lights.