Dr. Wings has a look on his face that shows he's stone cold busted. He then says that it wasn't premeditated, but rather a split-second decision and, upon some encouragement, he says he guesses that he thought the community needed his medical support. Before he can quite finish that sentiment, Tom decks him but good. It's very satisfying. In a stellar bit of dialogue, Dr. Wings hovers on the floor and says, "I guess you had to do that, huh?" and Tom replies, "You guessed right." Dr. Wings shows that he also has a correspondence degree in psychology as he tells Tom that he must feel pretty guilty. Tom doesn't know what he's talking about, so Dr. Wings says that it was Tom's morning to collect provisions. But Rebecca knew how exhausted he was and couldn't bring herself to wake him up. Well that's not his fault if the Skitters stopped all the alarm clocks on the planet from working! God.
Dr. Wings says that Rebecca really loved Tom, but it should have been him out there during the morning of the attack. He adds that Tom is as responsible for her death as he is and maybe more. This guy clearly likes being punched in the face. Also, these two should stop being so embroiled in their own human drama and realize that, in fact, the Skitters are the ones most responsible for Rebecca's death. Stop the cycle of blame! Dr. Wings adds that because he's still around, Tom has a chance to see his son unharnessed. Rebecca's death might mean saving Ben's life. Tom says that the Skitters won't win, and Dr. Wings replies with a toolish, "We'll see." Tom says that no matter how each of them survived, maybe they owe it to those who didn't to become the best of mankind. Dr. Wings gets a look on his face like, "Seriously, people?" and walks off.
Apparently the Skitters didn't melt all the candles on earth, because there's a whole bunch burning underneath the bulletin board of missing kids. I'm surprised Lourdes didn't fashion a Virgin Mary out of lentils. Tom hangs a picture of Ben and then goes to sit near Hal and Matt, who are snuggling in their sleep. Cut to Rick, who also appears to be sleeping peacefully. Then cut to the captive Skitter who starts to stir more. His eyes pop open and so do Rick's. Oh, shit! There is some dastardly mind control fuckery that is about to go down next week!
Next week: Dastardly mind control fuckery, I tell you!
Potes recommends that you serve a crisp sauvignon blanc with your Skitter a la King. She can be tweeted @traciepotes and emailed at firstname.lastname@example.org.