On their way back. Which means he had seen his mother, though it also means that she's dead and there's nothing he can do to change that. Shaky as she is on this suddenly very real, not at all sci-fi version of timelines, Maria held some small hope that Michael could go back to Roswell and change what was to happen. But that's not how this works, it seems. After all, Max went back and Max couldn't change anything, either.

She looks up and around, because this is an awful place to be doing this, having this conversation. But they've just left a stop; they've got a little distance to go before the next. And even then, if they were off the train, she isn't about to leave him hanging for some undefined period of time.

She squeezes his hand.

"I know, Michael," she says, looking him in the eyes lest he interpret her any other way than the real way.

"I know all of it. And I know so much more, too. Because you're looking at me like I'm not a part of your secrets and I am.

Not because you told me, I might add," she says, a little testily. It stung for a long while, and she doesn't want Guerin thinking everything was sunshine and roses when she found out.

"But because Rosa Ortecho showed up in my fucking store room one night trying to steal booze and there was no where else to go after that but toward the truth."