Disclaimer: Voyager belongs to Paramount Pictures. No infringement intended.

The metal of the Delta Flyer was twisted. The sparks were still cascading down on the floor, up in the air, swirling their madness inevitably on anything they could touch. The door was slightly ajar -- a rough landing -- a crash for that matter -- has a habit of tearing things apart.

Kathryn Janeway sat up and looked around at what was before her; she looked for her two friends, Tom and Chakotay. Where were they . . . it was so hard to see. Why was it so hard to see?

"Cha--Chakotay?!" she coughed as smoke, thick and black as the night of madness, it cut off her air.

Kathryn pushed her body to the floor, feeling sore and broken. She had gone to great lengths, she knew, to make even that amount of movement happen.

"Paris?!" she hollered, her voice cutting itself out -- out into nothingness.

"Here," Chakotay's voice came to her. They had been close -- and yet she hadn't been able to find them. There wasn't that much room to work with was there? 'Disorientation, Kathryn,' she could explain it to herself. 'Don't panic, it'll be alright,' she argued. But would it? It would.

Chakotay knelt, by her side, "Tom is in the back, looking for a medkit and environmental suits. It's going to get a little cold," he knelt by her, his breath materializing in the frigid air, as his finger pushed off what was left of a snowflake from her nose. "Don't you think?"

Kathryn started to laugh but cried out in pain instead. "Something's broken," she stated quietly.

"The medkit will fix you up," he tried to help her sit more comfortably -- but each touch, each movement hurt even more.

"No," she paused and listened -- listened to her body. "I'm broken, Chakotay. There's something wrong -- I don't know if --"

"Here we go," Tom knelt down, looking at Chakotay for an instant -- but in that instant he knew there was something there. They would have to talk.

The pilot pulled out the tricorder and flipped it open to ecstatic noise. He ran it over Kathryn Janeway's body, he looked at the readings and then he looked at Chakotay.

"Well?" Kathryn had asked the question. "Nevermind," she took a look at their faces, "I know it's not good." She laughed a bit, but winced again. Holding up her hand, she warded off Chakotay's open gesture, his reaching for her -- probably to make it all stop, "No, no -- don't. I know what's happening."

"Voyager will be here soon, Kathryn. We'll get you back -- get you the Doc. But first," he stood, "let's get warm."

"Commander," Tom grabbed his arm and stopped him.

Kathryn closed her eyes and wished she hadn't. With her sight distracted, she could feel the warmth of blood running down the side of her ribs. And no doubt, she bled from within.

"What is it?" Chakotay asked.

"There are two suits," he stated, looking at Kathryn and then back at Chakotay. "Only two."

"What?" he asked in disbelief. "I thought they stored three before we --"

"One was damaged -- the sparks from the back console . . . " Tom was pretty speechless, "it's no good."

"Well, gentlemen," Kathryn spoke up, though her voice sounded smaller to her in the midst of the great big wild of their situation. "I suggest you suit-up. Immediately."

"We can't do that. You have to make it back to Voyager, Captain. In your condition -- the cold could--" Tom started.

"Kill me? I'm already dying," she stated. "What makes sense is that you two remain in good shape and make it back. Just," she made a floating motion with her hand that stated nonsense, "blame it on Darwin if you have to, but get in the suits."

"Kathryn--" Chakotay started sternly.

"Chakotay," she returned with just as much heat, "I am still the Captain, even here and even now . . . you were given a command . . . make it so."

Tom sat back on his feet, still in a crouched position, to take it all in. The temperature was dropping rapidly and the numbness that was sure to envelope his body any time soon was slowly working its way up through his hands that apparently, though he couldn't feel it in his nerves or muscles, was holding the medical tricorder. There was nothing wrong with not feeling -- in fact, many things were less painful that way.

"Captain," he stated, as the idea produced its way through his system, sending him a greater shock than any open flame could at the moment. "You're right."

"Of course I'm right," she smiled and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"No!" Chakotay refused. "I disagree."

"Chakotay," Tom turned to him, "think about it. When the temperature drops -- it's going to drop. Back in the 20th century -- people believed that if they were frozen when death arrived -- that they might be able to be revived."

Kathryn looked at the man, "The coldness shutting down the bodily functions but also preserving."

"Exactly," Tom stated.

"What are you suggesting?" Chakotay asked quietly.

"He's suggesting you let me freeze to death, Commander," Kathryn stated dead on.

Chakotay turned his back to them. It was absurd -- the whole thing -- every moment was playing on at an incredible rate -- asking him to believe it was all happening when he couldn't make it so. But his silence was in fact an answer.

Part 4