A/N: I did research on most of the aspects of this story, but I'm still not sure about everything, so sorry if anything seems way out of place.
Nigeria was a hellhole, and the decrepit warehouse that was currently housing Clay and his team was stifling. Even at night, the air sat heavy and humid and dank, and the five men stretched out on cots on the dirt floor were clearly uncomfortable because of it. One man in particular seemed even more restless than the others, lying sprawled out on his back in nothing but a pair of boxers, limbs askew and blonde hair matted with sweat. He was tossing back and forth, clearly uncomfortable, and moaning softly every few seconds. His groans became gradually louder until they were full-on yells, incoherent shouts of panic.
"What in the hell is going on?" Roque demanded, knife extended in front of him.
"Sounds like Jensen," Clay said, sitting up. He flicked on a flashlight that he had sitting next to the bed and swung it in the direction of the hacker. Cougar was already stumbling towards Jensen's bed, and Pooch was squinting at the sudden light.
"What the hell?" Pooch mumbled.
"That's what I said," Roque answered. Cougar was squatting down next to Jensen, reaching a hand out to the fitfully sleeping hacker.
"Jensen," he said, shaking his friend's shoulder. "Jensen!"
Jensen came awake swinging, his eyes wild in the dim lighting.
"Jensen, what the hell is going on?" Pooch demanded as Cougar nimbly ducked the tech geek's flailing fist.
Jensen stopped suddenly, breath heaving as he blinked in surprise.
"What's going on?" He mumbled, noticing Cougar for the first time and scooting away from him. "Where the hell am I?"
"We're in Nigeria, Jensen, on a mission, remember? You just had a nightmare," Clay explained. Roque snickered from behind him.
"What are you laughing at? Is this funny to you?" Jensen demanded, the anger in his voice clear.
"Hell yes I think it's funny. You've been moaning like a little girl over there-"
"I was not!"Jensen yelled, and Roque laughed harder. Even the others were snickering now. "There is nothing funny about this. Y'all can just shove it up your ass."
"What's your problem?" Pooch said suddenly, frowning. The others were still laughing, but Pooch seemed to have come to the conclusion that there may have been more going on than was at first apparent.
"What's my problem? My problem is that I'm stuck in the middle of some place, hell if I know where, and it's hotter than hell in here." As Jensen spoke, his words started to slur slightly, and when he tried to stand, he swayed precariously.
"Are you drunk?" Clay asked, frowning. All laughter had stopped now, and Cougar was standing directly behind Jensen, ready to grab him if he lost his balance again.
"Drunk?" Jensen mumbled, bringing a hand up to swipe at his forehead. "No…I don't think so…where are we again?"
"Nigeria," Clay said slowly. "Cougar?"
"He looks pale," Cougar said quietly, reaching a hand out to Jensen's shoulder. He frowned. "He is shaking."
"What the crap?" Clay muttered, moving to join Cougar at Jensen's side. Jensen, for his part, was blinking rapidly, swaying on his feet, and mumbling incoherently.
"Jensen? Hey kid, can you hear me?"
Jensen's eyes shifted to look at Clay. The team leader was a bit startled by the glassy, distant quality of the blue-grey eyes that were trained on him.
"Clay?" The hacker mumbled finally. Clay chuckled lightly.
"Yeah, it's me, buddy. How you doin'?"
Jensen brought a hand up to his head and squinted.
"Not sure."
"Not sure?" Clay turned to look at the other men, Pooch sitting, clearly concerned on the edge of his bed, Roque with his head in his hands, glancing up at Jensen, and Cougar, his brown eyes clearly conveying his worry.
"Clay?" Jensen's voice was brittle and thin.
"Yeah?"
"Don't feel so good," Jensen said, and then his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed backward, only Cougar's quick reflexes keeping the hacker from collapsing to the floor.
"What the hell is this?" Clay barked as Jensen started seizing. Cougar was holding him in quiet fear, eyes wide. This was bad on so many levels; it was screwing their mission to hell, and something was clearly seriously wrong with the hacker, the little brother of the team.
Pooch had come to help Cougar, and they gently maneuvered the thrashing man to his cot, as Roque stood and abruptly ran to one of their coolers.
"Roque?" Clay asked, hoping that his friend would have an idea.
"My grandma had diabetes," Roque said tersely as he tossed beer and water bottles out of the cooler. "When her blood sugar got too low, she got all confused and weird."
"Hypoglycemia," Clay said, understanding dawning. "We've got to get sugar in him."
"Got it," Roque muttered, holding up a bottle of Mountain Dew.
Jensen had fallen still now, and was breathing slightly better, but had yet to regain consciousness.
"We've got to get him to drink this," Clay said to Cougar and Pooch, and they nodded, shifting the hacker's weight so that he was sort of sitting up. His head dipped forward, and Pooch carefully tilted it back.
"Hey Jensen, you need to wake up brother," Pooch said, slapping Jensen's face lightly. Jensen's eyelids fluttered until the hacker was staring vaguely at Pooch's face.
"Pooch?" Jensen slurred, a lop-sided grin on his face. "Whatcha doing?"
"Waking you up, kid," Pooch answered, letting Clay move in next to him.
"Here, Jensen. This'll make you feel better," Clay said, holding the bottle up.
"That?" Jensen said, and Clay nodded. "Okay."
Jensen took a tentative sip, coughing at the sweet liquid, but managing to keep most of it down.
"There you go," Clay said, watching in satisfaction as Jensen drank most of the bottle. A few minutes later, he'd fallen back asleep, clearly more comfortable than he had been.
"Okay, what just happened?" Pooch demanded once Jensen had been settled.
"Hypoglycemia," Clay answered wearily. He scrubbed a hand at his forehead.
"But what caused it?"
"When was the last time he ate?" Roque asked.
"He ate dinner with me. It was around 7:00."
Roque sighed. "Unless he's suddenly diabetic, I'm out of ideas."
"Well, whatever the hell it is, I hope we can figure it out soon. This could blow our mission."
That thought settled heavily on the team; their mission was a deep black op, and if anything went wrong, they would be on their own.
"We should get some sleep," Pooch said finally, and the others nodded. Five minutes later, four men slept soundly, snores echoing through the warehouse, and one man sat protectively on the edge of a bed, quietly watching over his friend.