"I got you, I got you," Jason shushes you soothingly, stroking your back as you come out of your Lazarus Pit-induced panic attack. He holds you by the shoulders to stabilize you. "I'm here. You're gonna be okay. I'm right here."

He knows exactly how this song and dance goes. But Jason is here. You don't have to suffer through it alone like he did, and you bet he'll damn well try to make sure your pain isn't as bad as his was the first dozen or so times around.

He's fighting back the instinct to just hug you through the whole thing only because he knows more physical contact than just hands isn't always great. "I know it hurts. But you gotta stay with me, hear?"