izzyalienqueen | Antar, About 5.5 months after Fandom

Isabel had literally tightened her belt to keep her pants from slipping due to the weight she'd lost. It was the one sure sign that she'd been trapped in the cell for far too long, unable to really exercise, existing only on the little bit of food they gave her.

She welcomed the dreams and the visits, enjoying the cold comfort they gave and losing herself in the false reality they created. Rescue wasn't something Isabel thought of any longer. And despite herself, it was getting harder and harder to say no when everyone urged her to accept Kivar.

	"Hey, Isabel," Peter said from where he appeared on the ceiling. "How're you holding up?"
	Isabel looked up and smiled. "Peter! Hi!" If she closed her eyes, it was as if she was back in her room in Fandom. Of course that meant not thinking about the fact that Peter had never spent any time on the ceiling of her room.
	"It's always good to see you smile, even with all of this other stuff going on," Peter said.
	"A visit from a friend is always a reason to smile," she answered. "How are you?" She wasn't going to talk about the other stuff, it was easier to pretend.
	"Same old, same old. School, clubs, wackiness, villains, rinse, repeat," Peter shrugged. "Still just going out and doing what I have to do, you know?"
	Isabel nodded. "Yeah," she said, her voice just a little shaky. "Power and responsibility and all that."
	"Speaking of, how are you doing with your responsibilities here?" Peter asked.
	"I've been shirking them I guess," Isabel said quietly, looking anywhere but at Peter. "At least that's what I've been told.
	"Forget what other people have told you," Peter said. "What do you think? I mean, you're the one with the power to end a lot of suffering. You're the one whose opinion counts here."
	"I don't know what to think anymore. I just want this to be over," she admitted.
	"If you really want it to be over, and I mean all of this, the fighting, your extremely glamorous life here, all of it, it's within your power," Peter said, lowering himself down from the ceiling on a web. "You have a responsibility to your people. Hell, to yourself, too." When his feet reached the ground, he hugged Isabel. "I know you'll do what's right for everyone."
	The tiny bit of will that had been sustaining Isabel for as long as she'd been in the cell broke as she listened to Peter speak. "You're right," she nodded, returning the hug. "I know what I have to do now." Stepping back, she smiled. "Thank you."
	"You're welcome," Peter said. As he faded away, he chimed in, "For what it's worth, I think you're going to be a great queen."