Jason Todd grimaced as he dragged your limp form. The sounds of your final gasps still rang in his ears. He couldn't let you stay dead, couldn't let the world lose you again. Grief and determination fueled his every step. He hated that pit, but he couldn’t live without you. You were his everything. His rock. He would not let your memory fade. He knew the price, for every time the pit claimed a life, it changed the essence of the one it brought back.

In the dingy, dimly lit underground chamber, bathed in the eerie glow of the Lazarus Pit, Jason hovered over the barely conscious form of his newly resurrected friend. The Lazarus Pit was a chaotic force, its magic unpredictable and volatile. The transformation was not just physical. Some of your hair had turned as bright as snow and your eyes a new green. You gasped for air, feeling as though you were suffocating underwater. Panic welled up, making your heart race, your chest tightening, hands clawing for fresh air. Your lungs ached, craving oxygen as you struggled to will your body to respond.

Jason, sensing the turmoil, leaped into action. Laying a hand on your heaving chest, he murmured reassuring words, his voice a soothing lullaby. “Breathe...just breathe. You're alive now. You're safe.”