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Summary
"This feels like a fuckin' dream," Jesse says roughly, "Like someone in Deadlock got sick of my shit and knocked me into a coma and this is what my conscience decided to make up."
Gabe rubs at his jaw slowly.
"Why would you dream of this?"
Jesse shifts and rests his chin on one of his knees.
"I'm safe," Jesse whispers, "I'm valued, in some way, I have potential, right?"
Jesse looks up at his commander for an answer.
Gabe nods once, a slow dip of his chin.
