The hand under his arm jerks him awake, though consciousness is a thin, buzzing, muddled event. He doesn't think he can talk, he can barely focus on anything, cognizance trapped under the pressing weight of the invading force between his temples. He grasps weakly for a handhold before another stab of pain hits him, his back arching, letting out a thick-throated groan as Tim collapses down onto him. He's pinned under dead weight and it's coming it's coming closer.

"Tim," he gasps, his fingers finally wrapping around Tim's arm. Tim's curled up and coughing, and Jay can only shake him limply. "Tim, get up." He squirms out from under him and forces himself up, his whole body trembling, too weak to stand. It's down there still, looking at them, pulling at them, but he doesn't look, he squeezes his eyes shut and digs his fingers into Tim's shirt. "Tim, I'm here, get up. Please, Tim, get up."