Jason hates that there is a Lazarus Pit in the Batcave. He gets, on some level, why Bruce would have taken the opportunity to keep it there. Scientifically, practically, all that crap. But he still hates it. He tries not to think about its existence. It creeps him out to know it's there.

So he's not exactly pleased to be kneeling in front of the thing right now. Because the worst part of having a Lazarus Pit in the Batcave is because it's ultimately there in case they need to use it. And more than anything, he hates that today they need to use it.

He waits for that initial gasp, that first jolting movement, before he reaches to haul your body out of the Pit. He maneuvers you into a recovery position on the floor, pats your back as you cough, keeps a hand on your shoulder to try and keep you grounded.

"Hey, it's okay. It's okay, I got'cha. Breathe. I know it hurts. You're alright."

He knows the pain, the disorientation, the panic. He pats your back again, trying to help you cough out the acid green water so you can get a steady breath. Nobody was there to help him through this - to hold him while he panicked and choked, to steady him through the pain, to tell him he'd be okay. He's not leaving you to face this crap alone.

Death was always a risk in your line of work. Bruce kept this damn thing, at least in part, to try and mitigate some small piece of that risk. No one had ever wanted to have to use it, but here you were. Bruce had wanted to be the one in here with you, but Jason had insisted it be him - he knew what it was like, knew what to do. No, if they were going to use this cursed thing, the least Jason figured he could do was be the one to pull you out of the Pit and bring you back to him. Back to your family.

And maybe he could make the whole process a little bit easier on you than it had been on him.

"C'mon, get it all out, get a good breath. You're alright. You're safe."