17 de fevereiro de 2014

"We Don't Have a Choice..."

The search for an identity. That was always a major theme on Roswell. Michael was always the character who was more interested in finding out the truth about who they were and where they had come from. This is the moment when Michael starts to actively search for his origins. And, for a long time, he does it against the will of is best friends. 

I think that his initial search – despite Max and especially Isabel's disapproval – is very compelling. Unlike his friends, Michael doesn't have any 'roots' in Roswell, which fuels his quest to find out where he belongs. 

Unlike Michael, Max and Isabel are happy with their lives and are not particularly concerned with their alien origins. They may be curious, but they don't want the 'alien unknown' to stop them from living out their peaceful lives. 

Disclaimer: Written for love, not for profit. The characters do not legally belong to me. They belong to: Melinda Metz and Laura Burns who created them, Jason Katims who developed them, 20th Century Fox Television and Regency Television who produced them and the WB and UPN who broadcasted them.
Images taken from Google search.

     Since it was still early, he decided to go to the Evans’ home. They needed to know what was going on. “Are you insane?!?” Isabel asked, horrified. She had always been scared for Michael’s safety, and now she was furious to learn that he had walked ‘right into the jaws of the beast’ to find... she didn’t even know what exactly. “I didn’t just wander in, all right? I had a cover story,” Michael clarified, although Isabel was still not at ease with his explanation. “And what was your cover story,” Max asked, trying to hide his own fear for his friend’s safety. “I was selling candies for charity,” Michael said. He picked a piece and offered it to them. “Peanut cluster?” They looked at him, unimpressed. “And they bought it,”  Max asked. “No, they all seemed to be on a diet,” Michael replied, putting the candy back inside the box. “Not the candy, Einstein, the story,” Isabel clarified, annoyed. Michael didn’t understand why they were so upset... Nothing bad had happened to him! “Yeah, they bought the story!” He assured them. At that moment, the penny dropped. “Why are you wearing that,” he asked Isabel. She looked at her clothes, feeling self-conscious. “Because, Michael, I have a date... with a guy... that I like,” she said, buttoning her blouse. “In fact, I like my whole life here. In fact, I have a date next Friday that I’m hoping I won’t have to miss because I’m running from the law.” While she was talking Max picked up  Michael’s discouragement at her ‘I love Roswell so much’ speech. Max couldn’t help to relate to both of them. He loved Roswell too, but if a clue was really out there waiting for them to find it... “You two, the point is this.” Michael started again, refusing to abandon his idea. “That file has got to be in Valenti’s office. All right?” Max leaned back on the couch, slowly massaging his temple. He knew Michael wouldn’t leave until he could mobilize them for his cause. “He leaves for the day at 7:30. There’s no one else in the entire wing of the Sheriff’s station. We go in, we find the file, we get the info, we put the file back--” “So how do we break in?” Max asked, sitting in front of Michael. He couldn’t deny his curiosity, but he didn’t go far enough to avoid is sister’s icy glare. “Hypothetically,” he added, to Isabel’s benefit. Michael could also feel his friend glaring at him, but Max’s interest encouraged him. “The window. It’s got a lock on it. Nothing you can’t handle.” “Alarm system?” Max asked again, feeling Isabel shooting him a warning look. “Hypothetically,” he added, once more. “Piece of cake. Even I could deactivate it.” “Max, don’t humor him, okay? I can’t believe you’re even considering this!” Isabel said, annoyed. “I just want to know how feasible the plan is...” Max replied. Michael nodded in agreement. But Isabel’s furious look forced Max to reassure her: Which it’s not... feasible. It’s not feasible, Michael.” He repeated to his friend. The tide had been turned. Max was curious and that was good enough for Michael to go on. “This is what we’ve been waiting for our entire lives. I mean, this is the first time we’ve ever had any clue that might tell us who we are. We don't have a choice!” Suddenly, there was a sound of keys on a lock and their parents called. Feeling his time running out, Michael continued in hushed tones. “And with government agents after us, we had better get our asses in gear, don’t you think?” “Agents?” Max asked, galvanized by the word. “What are you talking about?” Isabel asked, afraid of the answer. “Talk to Liz.” Michael said to Max. He was just letting that information sink in when he heard his parents’ voices. They came in, bringing with them two family-sized pizzas. Michael declined a dinner invitation and left, letting his words haunt Max and Isabel for the rest of the night.


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