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The soft tapping on the bars of his cell is what brought Will from his most recent trip into his head, the water cool and the fish always biting. He opened his eyes slowly, not bothering to look out at the person calling for his attention; for who else could it be at this hour, but the turnkey himself?
"Frederick," Will said, his voice echoing against the stone.
He could hear the shuffle of Frederick's cane against the cement floor, the creaking as the door to his cell was opened. The warmth as Frederick settled beside him on the bed, nudging Will's legs over to make room for himself on the small cot.
The span of a few heartbeats went by. Will could hear the other man's breathing in the dark, the little catch in his throat that highlighted how nervous he was.
To be in a cage with a killer.
"I may have...misjudged you," Frederick's voice was crisp, slow at first but picking up speed like confidence, "and I'm afraid that has put me at some risk with a certain colleague of mine."
Will allowed a smile to pull at the corners of his mouth. "I've told you, Frederick. I am not the intelligent psychopath you're looking for."
Frederick shifted, turning more towards Will, wanting the other man to look at him instead of lying there and staring fixedly at the ceiling.
"Nobody believes you," he said feverishly, reaching out and putting a hand on Will's knee. That drew his attention, and Will flicked his gaze to Frederick for the first time since the other man had entered his cell.
"You believe me," he deadpanned.
"Yes. And you're in here."
"You're in here with me, aren't you?"
Frederick huffed a breath, wilting a little and leaning back so that the expensive material of his jacket chaffed against the rough walls. "I suppose I am," he murmured.
The pair sat in silence, doctor and patient, more alike now than they had ever been different.