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.
What is she?
A hybrid of sorts? A being caught between life and death? An evolved walker?
What a chilling thought.
Is this what awaits them all? Death followed by some shambling existence as one of them?
Aware of it all.
He pushes that thought as far out of his mind as he can, because it's too disturbing to consider. The longer he watches her, however, the harder it is to ignore.
How much is she aware of? What is her experience of this world? Does she have memories of her life? Does she mourn her former existence? How long has she been here? Why are they doing this to her? What purpose does it serve? How long do they intend to keep this up?
What kind of sick shit is this?
Merle wasn't one to get philosophical, or ask the big questions, but he has an inquiring mind and these were the inquiries it was throwing at him as he watches her go about her business. Business that appears to entail cowering in the corner, same as last time. Pointedly avoiding eye contact. Keeping her head bowed. This, he finds particularly strange, because cooped up like this day in day out, surely she should be more curious when it comes to visitors? Even walkers react to people in the vicinity.
"Well hey there, chickadee, don't get too excited ta see me now will ya!" he deadpans, chuckling at his own joke because somebody has to.
He watches her intently and although she doesn't move, he can tell she is listening. Encouraged by this, he decides to push on with the plan.
"An' I was even so nice as ta bring supper too," he grins broadly, waving the offering in front of the bars, "figured you might like a bite o' jerky, whaddya say?"
He pauses a beat, waiting for her to do that which walkers always do in the presence of food, but sadly, it isn't happening. He moves towards her and pushes the food through the bars - not so close that she could take his hand off if so inclined, but close enough should she be tempted.
He need not have worried. A wary glance is all he gets - a far cry from the usual growling, gnashing of teeth, stumbling routine.
Well, ain't that sumthin!? This biter don't bite!
He grins but is frowning too, because he isn't sure what to make of this. Not one to swallow his frustration at her dull behavior, he figures he'll try baiting her instead.
"Ya gotta c'mere if ya wanna chow down, ya get me?"
A tilt of the head, but beyond that nothing. It soon becomes apparent she has no intention of taking him up on the offer.
"Hey now, no need to be snooty, lil' miss, why dontcha come over here an' say hello?"
It seems she'd rather be snooty.
He shakes his head because it isn't right. This isn't how it's supposed to be. He's pushing all the buttons but only getting static.
A voice in his head points out his stupidity at this juncture, because if she isn't up for fresh meat, (which is basically what he is to her), she's hardly going to go all zombie on him for a strip of jerky, is she? He shuts it down right there and then, because he'll be damned if he's going to spend the following days puzzling over this.
Reckless decision made, he yanks the door open and now it seems she can't move fast enough.
Away from him.
Lord almighty.
She shuffles as far as she can into her corner and he instantly feels sorry because what hell has she been put through to end up like this? As he moves closer, she looks directly at him, eyes wide in terror.
Walker's eyes.
It's a stark reminder of the stupidy of what he is doing and he springs backwards so quick, his shoulder clips the door frame. He curses and slams the door so hard it nearly comes off its hinges, then curses some more because the last thing he needs is to have someone come down here to complain about the noise.
Thankfully, he hears no movement in the compound, but not convinced it will stay that way, decides to make himself scarce.
Not before doing one last thing, however.
He reaches into the cell, eyes never leaving her for a second, (in case she goes into ninja stealth mode and decides to rip his arm off after all), and carefully places the jerky on the ground.
He then backs off as far as he's able to do so, with his back against the far wall, hands up where she can see them and waits to see what she will do. To his surprise, she ignores the meat and crawls towards the door instead, which puzzles him exceedingly because unless she can pick locks, she isn't going anywhere. That isn't what she does though, no, she removes her jacket (a bundle of rags, like all else she is wearing) and jams it under the door. She then takes the jerky and is back in her corner, quick as a flash, eating so fast she could try for the world record. All the while, her eyes flitting from the makeshift doorstop to Merle, clearly hoping neither will budge.
He shakes his head in utter astonishment because she's rewriting the book here. The book of everything he knew about walkers and it scares the hell out of him. This is learned behaviour he's witnessing... the use of tools...
And just as last time, he's overwhelmed. Amazed but disturbed. Fascinated but struggling against a rising panic.
Lost to a deluge of emotions, he wisely retires.
At some point later, in the sanctuary of his quarters, as the initial shock fades, one thought gains upper hand in his mind. It's strangely charitable, considering how off-balance she has him.
Clever girl.