A/N: All mistakes are my own.

Wenn wir gehn...in die nacht

When we go, then we only go together

When we wrote this so long ago, we didn't expect that there would be a time that either of us would have to act upon it. And yet here we are, here you are…and I can't help but think that those words will come to be far sooner than either of us thought.

The room is cold and impersonal, smelling of antiseptic and death. Even when I press my face to your hand, bury my nose in your locks, or fall asleep with my whole being tucked into your side, I can't pick out that scent that has always been uniquely you. This place has smothered it, taken that little bit of you from me like it threatens to take so much more.

I rarely notice anymore as the doctors and nurses come and go. Or when Mom, Dad, Gordon, Gustav, and Georg come to visit you. All that matters is you.

There are so many machines that are hooked up to your body. They are keeping you alive, taking readings of your heart and your brain, and doing so many other things that I don't understand. I don't even know exactly what is wrong with you. Every time the doctor tried to tell me, or told Mom, I just couldn't seem to hear them. All I could hear or see was you.

I hear when you're quietly screaming, sensing every breath you take

It's been so long, days, weeks, months, since I last heard your voice. Since I last saw you smile. Since I saw your talented fingers play across the strings of your beloved Gibson. Since I curled up against your warm body and you wrapped you arms around me. Since you held me close and loved me.

We were performing in Prague when you collapsed on stage. I didn't even know right away. You were behind me, and I was in mid chorus. The sudden absence of your guitar and then the silence of the crowd alerted me. And then it was as if everything slowed down. I felt as if I was running through molasses as I moved across the stage to your side, my ears deaf to my own screams of your name. Your guitar lay broken underneath one hand, the strap twisted in your too large clothing. You'd knocked your cap off when you fell, and your skin was damp with sweat. I remember you saying you weren't feeling good before we went onstage, but you'd be adamant that you'd play even with a fever, like always. Maybe if you hadn't…maybe if you hadn't been your usual stubborn self you wouldn't be laying on that pristine white bed before me.

In me, it's starting to get cold

I can't feel you anymore. It feels as if half of me is missing, as if there is this giant whole where you have always been so bright, warm, and alive. I never realized just how much of you I could feel until I couldn't. You'd always been there, since the moment I was born. Is this how you felt in those ten minutes before I was born?

Can you feel me? What is it like? Where are you? Why won't you open your eyes and come back to me?

Hold me, else I'll be drifting alone in the night

I miss your voice so much. Everyone thinks you are so quiet, compared to me, but you really aren't. I think I took our communication for granted sometimes. While I'm all flare and constant babble you are quieter, communicating in more subtle ways that are louder than my voice has ever been.

I miss your touch. You were always so much more sure of things than I was. Always there to pick up the pieces. From when we were five and I skinned my knee in the road, to when I didn't win Star Search, to my vocal surgery. Always soothing away my hurts and fears, kissing them, me, better.

Shadows want to catch me

It's been nearly a year now. It's been nearly a year and the doctors say that you aren't going to wake up, that you are brain dead or something like that. But that's not true, is it? I'd know if you were…gone. Only Mom still comes by to visit you. And me of course. The doctors say it's time to 'let you go' as they put it. Time to shut down the machines that are keeping you alive…keeping you with me. How can they expect me to do that though? I am you and you are me. Why can't they understand that? They kill you, they kill me. Why is it that no one, not Mom, not Dad, not Gordon, not the doctors, understand that?

How long can we still be here together?

It's another day…another day that I haven't heard your voice, haven't felt your willing touch, seen your golden brown eyes, or your smile. You seem so much paler today against the white of the bed; the tubes that surround you make your body seem thinner than I am. That's not right. I've always been the fragile one, been thinner, more delicate in build, not you. Feminine to masculine. Whatever is wrong, whatever made you collapse, it's changing you, and taking away the brother I know.

Mom came by earlier, she said that she has 'power of attorney' which I guess means she is the one that has control over wither you live or not. If only you'd just open your eyes…squeeze my hand…do something, anything. Then maybe they'd reconsider, then I'd be able to keep you, keep my brother.

I don't want to be alone there

I come to visit you every day, from before visiting hour's open, to well after they have ended. The nurses and doctors no longer try to make me leave. They just drop some food off for me, check to make sure I haven't joined you, and then they leave. I don't eat though. I can't. I don't have an appetite, and whenever I eat to appease Mom, I only end up throwing up.

I don't feel myself getting weaker physically, but mentally I do. The longer I'm separated from you, don't feel you, the weaker I get the and less my will to live is.

Jost called, wanting to talk about finding a new guitar player so that Tokio Hotel could continue. I told him no. There is no Tokio Hotel without you. Georg and Gustav agreed with me. This band was started by the four of us, and will end with the four of us. So wake up, wake up and play with us again. Hold me again. Kiss me again.

You are everything that I am, and everything that's flowing through my veins

It's been over a year now. Over a year since you collapsed on stage in Prague. Over a year since you've looked in my eyes and told me that you loved me.

It's been a week since the doctors came into your room and found me in the chair next to your bed. A week since they put me in a pristine hospital bed next to yours. And still, I can't feel you. I can see you, when I manage to gather enough strength to open my eyes, but I can't feel you.

Let us go together, Into the night

I hear the doctors come to talk to Mom about us. Saying that as you get weaker I do to. They say they worry for me and that the IV nutrients they are giving me aren't working. They don't understand what is wrong. There is nothing wrong with my physically, as far as they can tell.

Mom had a specialist come in to look at me. He said it's all mental. He said that it's the 'twin bond'. That he'd seen it before. When one twin is dying, the other dies as well. It even happens to twins separated at birth that never meet. The connection is there nevertheless.

Who would've known when we wrote that song together that it'd come to this? All those times we preformed 'In die Nacht' on stage and the fans loved it, loved the brotherly relationship we put across in it, along with the hidden messages.

Take me along and hold me, else I'll be drifting alone in the night

Mom is sitting between our beds. I can vaguely feel her hand wrapped around mind. She feels so distant though. I can barely hear the machines around us as they beep. Our heartbeats are in sync. They have been since they hooked me up. Doctors said it was strange. I don't think so. We are two of the same.

I feel myself drifting, going farther from that white room with the smell that makes my nose hurt. I hear, from a distance, mother's screams. I hear both our heart monitors stop. Then there is other noises, loud, shouts. And then there is nothing.

Even when fate will tear us apart, No matter what comes after that, that's what we'll share

Then there is something. Something that I have been without for so long. I feel you. I feel my other half. I can't see, I can't hear, I can't feel as in touch. But I can feel you. Weak and far away, but getting closer. My brother, my lover, my everything. My other half. My soul mate.

At some point it'll be time, let us go together, into the night…

And then you are there. Strong and healthy, smiling as you wrap your arms around me, drawing me close. We are together again. Just as we'd promised when we first wrote that song and every time we ever sang it, wither in private or on stage. I smile, feeling whole and well again as I tilt my head back to look into your eyes. They are my eyes, but so different at the same time. I see love in your eyes. And when you open your mouth, it isn't to say that I shouldn't have followed you. It is to say I love you.

With one last look back at that white room, at our bodies lying peacefully in these pristine beds, at our mother crying over our still hands, we turn and leave. Our arms are wrapped around each other. Never again will we be separated. Never again will fate, will life, and will anyone take us from each other. We are free to be together and no longer have to hide.

Death is our freedom.

My Tomi.

Wenn wir gehn, Dann gehn wir nur zu Zweit