Disclaimer: Roswell, and it's characters do not belong to me. Melinda Metz, Jason Katims and 20th Century Fox have that particular pleasure. I'm simply borrowing them until the Season 2 DVD's get released.

Tomorrow's Yet to Come

Chapter Six – Miles to Go

Liz leaned her head against the car window, and watched the night darkened scenery speed by.

Go to the picture, she thought to herself. The obvious answer is the Granolith, but why? Why would Michael want us to go back there? Liz sighed and continued to stare out into the darkness. Max reached over and took her hand in his.

"It's going to be okay, Liz," he said. "I know you don't want to go back there, but don't have a choice. Someone is out there, and they are trying to hurt people we care about. We have to stop them."

"I know, I just wish we could talk to Michael or Isabelle, or someone!" she cried. "We're running blind, and we already know how well that always works out."

Max didn't say anything for several minutes. He drove on through the darkness, trying to find the right words to make Liz feel better about their journey. The yellow lines on the road passed as the miles sped by, and still Max was silent. He spotted a deserted rest area, and pulled in, and shut of the ignition. He turned in his seat and faced Liz.

"We won't go back," he said. "The thought of going back is killing you. I can feel it. I can't do that to you, Liz. I'll find someplace safe for you to stay, and then I'll go meet Michael."

"We can't, Max," Liz said. "You're right. I don't want to go back. I'd rather die than go back, but we don't have a choice. The thought of going back is killing me, but someone is killing our friends, and we have to stop them."

"Liz, don't. We'll find some other way," said Max. "You don't want to do this, and I don't want to put you in any danger."

"Max, you put me in danger the day you healed me!" shouted Liz.

Max pulled back violently, as if slapped.

"Max, wait, that didn't come out right," said Liz. She reached out and put her hand on his arm. "I know you would have never willingly put me in danger, any more than you could have sat there and watched me die. What I meant was, from that day on, I was in danger, but so were you. You put yourself in danger to save my life. How can I turn my back on my friends just because I'm afraid to face my fears?"

"Well, there's something else bothering you," said Max. "You've been way too quiet."

"Well, for one thing, I'm hungry again," said Liz. "But also, I'm concerned. We're going rushing into Roswell, based upon a picture, and a cryptic phone call from Maria. It just doesn't feel right to me."

"Okay," said Max, starting the car and pulling back out onto the highway. "We'll stop in the next town and get some food, and try and come up with a plan. Why are you so hungry all of a sudden? Liz, you're not pregnant, are you?" Max asked, his voice both hopeful and fearful.

"No, I'm not," said Liz. "For a long time, nothing I ate had any taste at all. It was like I was eating sawdust or something. I could taste the seasonings, but it's like nothing was good. I don't know if that makes any sense. But today, it seemed like my taste buds woke up or something. I just can't get enough food in my mouth. I'm trying to make up for almost two years of tasteless nothingness."

"I wish you had told me how you were feeling," said Max.

"I couldn't, Max, because I didn't really know myself," explained Liz. "Look, do you mind if I try and get some rest before we stop to eat? In addition to hungry, I'm also very, very sleepy."

"No problem," said Max. He pushed he car seat back a little, and Liz loosened her seat belt and laid down on the bench seat, her head in Max's lap. As he drove, Max absentmindedly ran his fingers through Liz's hair.

Michael painting. Maria on a stage. Someone watching, always watching. Isabel walking down the streets of New York. A shadowy figure following behind. Four identical paintings standing on easels around a sun filled room. Liz watches Michael paint. Reflections in the glass. Isabel looks into a store window. Liz's face appears in the glass beside Isabel. The shadow looms up behind Isabel. Max! But it's not Max. Run. Michael's studio destroyed. The shadow figure looks at the destruction in satisfaction. Max's face appears reflected in the mirror. Crowded airport. Alex and Isabel run. Michael and Maria on a plane flying into the sun. Kyle and Ava drive down a deserted road. The road is shrouded in darkness. The darkness swallows the car.

"Kyle!" Liz screamed.

"Liz. Shhh. It's okay sweetie. You just had a bad dream or something. Relax, it's okay."

"No, it's not okay. It's not," said Liz," sobbing, brokenly. "It wasn't a dream, Max. It was a vision, I know it was." Liz took deep breath and reached for her bag. She reached in and pulled out he journal. "Give me a second," she said. "Let me write it all down, before I forget, and then we can go over it." She scribble frantically in her journal, trying to recall every sight, and every sound.

"Liz?" Max asked softly. "I'm gong to pull over up here. There's a Denny's up ahead. We can get something to eat, and we can try and figure it out, okay?"

"It was you, Max. We're in danger, but I kept seeing you," babbled Liz. "How could it be you? You're right here with me."

"Calm down, Liz," said Max. He parked the car in the well-lit parking lot and undid his seatbelt. "We're going to go inside, get some coffee and some food, and we're going to talk."

Liz climbed out of the car her journal clasped tightly in her hand, and followed Max into the restaurant. They were seated quickly, and placed their orders.

Max waited until Liz finished her first cup of coffee. When she placed the cup back on it's saucer, he took her hand in his.

"Now, tell me everything. Don't leave anything out."