The Prisoner Of Woodbury

Chapter 2

It's several days before Merle pays a visit to the catacombs again.

Part of him had wanted to go back at the earliest opportunity, (to have absolute confirmation of that which his eyes had shown him), but this impulse was swiftly repressed by the part of him that knows better than to think that this could be anything but bad news.

Alas, sensible decisions did not tend to prevail with Merle; he relied on gut instincts to guide him, and let's face it, he's hardly alone on that one.

We cannot help but be drawn to that we should leave well alone, you see. A glimpse into the unknown is never enough. We have to peek behind the curtain, check under the bed...

... steal into the cellar.

Then there are questions, of which Merle has many. Granted, most of them are variations of "what the f*ck?" but hey, that's a valid reaction. Perfectly understandable, all things considered.

The one that is really bothering him however, is why, upon discovering what she is, did he not kill her? He has a blade lashed to what's left of his arm and has never hesitated to use it before, so what made the difference this time? The answer to that question makes him distinctly uncomfortable. It means confronting a side of him, he's barely able to admit exists. Deep down, he knows precisely what held him back at that critical moment, and it wasn't shock or cowardice - not knowing what to do or being man enough to do it, but remorse... regret...

He must be losing it, because how on earth can he have a problem with killing walkers?

Fortunately, he doesn't.

Terrified he's turning soft, he's out at first light the following day, offing walkers with practiced ease, no sign of anything approximating remorse to put a dent in his fragile masculinity.

Which brings him back to his original question: Why did he spare her? Well, the answer lies in the question: He thinks of her as 'her'. As a person. Not an 'it', i.e. one of the dead.

One could understand this before he discovered the truth, but now? He couldn't get over how many times he caught himself doing it. How often he has to remind himself what 'she' is. Which once again brings about questions as to why she is different. Indeed, the more he thinks about it, the more he begins to doubt what he saw.

To fear means to feel pain, to suffer. Walkers do not do these things. He's no expert, but from what he's seen, they don't have grey matter enough for even the simplest of emotions, let alone, something so complex as fear.

She did though... she was afraid...

Deer in the headlights scared.

He saw it the moment he looked into those eyes.

Eyes, that were unmistakably those of the dead...

... and yet somehow... of the living.

Goddamn, goddamn, goddamn...

Were Merle a believer of magic, he'd ask what sorcery this is, but he most definitely is not. He's just an ordinary guy, who feels as if his chain's being yanked.

Sadly, he cannot go to those in the know for clarity; the Governor is screwy and Milton's a snitch. Best not to poke the badger, he reckons. For this reason, he goes about his day as he would any other and keeps all knowledge of the matter to himself.

But where to go for answers if he's in this on his own?

Down, down, deep underground, where the secret places are...

Why, yes, to the source of his malaise. It's the only way to find out, surely. So that's how he finds himself outside her cell in the dead of night once more, staring at her as if she's a puzzle he cannot solve.