Michael would argue that looking after her is as important a plan as any other he could have come up with. Wanda's gotten good at not giving him an in to argue, though.

He's not as stony as his face suggests. It's a real human body he inhabits, with real human warmth. There's a half-second of stillness as she clings to him, a hidden calculation going on within as Michael sorts through his past vessels' experiences. Hugging isn't an angel thing outside of the cupids. He draws on Adam's memories of his mother, her arms comforting and secure around him—none of that one-armed, backslapping hesitance to commit that he finds in too many others.

He wraps his arms around her and returns the hug. It's methodical, as if he's connecting the dots to make a picture, but the final result feels natural to him rather than stiff. If this brings her comfort, then it's all according to plan.

"You have my word," he says. "Do you remember the storms? Being rounded up and brought to the Singularity? I'd forgotten it, but now that I remember I don't recall how we got from there to where we are now. I believe that's where we really are."