A/N: I'm going to be on vacation for the next couple weeks, so it might be a while to update…anyway, thought I'd try to write a less Jensen-oriented story, and only moderately succeeded.

xxxx

It started with a headache, which wasn't really very odd. With the burden of being team lead and looking out for everybody, plus the constant stress of seeking revenge, it wasn't unheard of for Clay to go through the day rubbing his temples and popping Tylenol like candy. So when he woke up with a pounding headache, and a strong aversion to bright lights and loud noises, it wasn't really that strange.

Even when the nausea started, so severe that he couldn't sit upright without swaying dangerously and gagging in his mouth, it was within the realm of normalcy. When his right side went numb, though, his hand hanging limply at his side, his leg dragging when he tried to walk, the team knew something was seriously wrong.

"Dude, he could be having a stroke," Pooch said worriedly as he scrounged through the team's belongings. He finally produced a bucket and held it up victoriously, right before shoving it into Clay's hands as he started puking again.

"People die from strokes," Aisha said, a hint of anxiety in her tone. "And he's too young for that."

Pooch shrugged, but his shoulders were tense with worry. "Could happen."

"Shouldn't we get him to a hospital?" Cougar asked.

"Yeah. If this is a stroke, he's gonna need a hospital sooner rather than later."

"My body hurts," Clay groaned suddenly. Aisha raised an eyebrow.

"Your body hurts?" She repeated. Clay shook his head, then winced.

"No. Not m' body. Can't think…" Clay moaned, and Aisha exchanged a worried look with her companions. What the hell was going on?

About that time, Jensen finally arrived at the warehouse, a good hour and a half later than their planned meeting time. He strolled in wearing a Chuck Norris shirt and with a box of donuts in hand, grinning broadly.

"Morning, bitches!" He cried, setting the box down. "I brought donuts!" He was surprised by the seething glares he got from his teammates as Clay groaned loudly, clutching his head.

"Clay might be dying, and you're talking about donuts!" Aisha hissed. Jensen abruptly turned pale.

"What?" He gasped.

"We think he might be having a stroke," Pooch explained. "Help us get him to the car."

"Oh shit," Jensen murmured, looking at Clay. The team lead was pale with a greenish tinge, rocking back and forth slightly, left hand clutched to his temple. "It could be a brain tumor. Clay, do you smell anything burning?"

Clay groaned, Pooch and Aisha shot him twin glares, and Cougar rolled his eyes.

"What? It's a legitimate question!"

Ten minutes later and one bucket half-full of vomit later, they pulled up to the emergency room, fake IDs in hand. Clay was bundled off into a room pretty quickly after they described his symptoms, and when he spewed all over the reception desk it seemed to expedite things even more. The rest of the team was left in the waiting room with a clipboard full of paperwork to fill out.

"You sure this insurance thing will work?" Aisha whispered, looking suspiciously at Jensen. The hacker gulped visibly and nodded.

"Course I'm sure," he said. It wasn't the first time he'd faked insurance cards, and it sure as hell wouldn't be the last.

"How old is Clay?" Pooch asked without looking up.

"I don't know, 45?" Aisha guessed.

"56?" Jensen hazarded.

"56? Seriously?" Aisha demanded, staring at Jensen incredulously.

"What?" Jensen asked, spreading his hands. "Dude's old!"

"44," Cougar said. Pooch nodded his thanks.

"He doesn't look anywhere near 56," Aisha grumbled. Jensen stuck his tongue out at her.

"Allergies?" Pooch asked, looking up from the paperwork.

"Umm, none?" Jensen said, clearly uncertain.

"Strawberries," Cougar said. Pooch nodded his thanks and wrote it down.

"How do you even know that?" Jensen demanded. Cougar shrugged.

"Father's medical history? How the hell am I supposed to know?" Pooch demanded, gesturing wildly with the clipboard. "This thing has so many damn questions."

"I don't know," Aisha said. "Just make something up."

"About his medical history? That'll just make things worse."

"Whoa, whoa, back up," Jensen said, holding his hands up. "Clay has a father?"

"Jensen, stop being a smartass!" Pooch yelled, even as Aisha shouted his name and a few choice expletives. Cougar rolled his eyes.

"Excuse me," a nurse said finally, clearing her throat loudly. The bickering stopped abruptly. "Someone will be out to speak with you soon. In the mean time, please don't talk so loudly. You're disturbing some of the patients."

"Of course. Sorry," Pooch said hastily. The minute the nurse left, he turned to Jensen. "Way to go, Jensen," he hissed.

"Hey, that was not my fault," Jensen answered, glaring.

"Are you here for Clay Wakowski?" A voice said, and everyone stopped talking and looked up.

"Yeah," Pooch answered. Jensen was staring open-mouthed at the nurse, a huge woman, broad and towering, and with a voice practically as deep as Clay's. Cougar noticed and elbowed him sharply in the ribs, and Jensen bit back a yelp.

"Well, he's not having a stroke. Your friend had what's called a hemiplegic migraine. It presents with many similar symptoms as a stroke, but we've got him on some anti-nausea meds and some pain medication for the headache. He's pretty disoriented and he's having some slight speech disturbances, but those should go away with the rest of his symptoms. If he doesn't get well in another 24 hours, you'll need to bring him back in. Any questions?"

"Have you ever taken steroids?" Jensen muttered under his breath, then hissed with pain as he got another elbow to the ribs.

"No, I think we're good," Pooch said quickly, glaring at the hacker. The nurse nodded, then eyed Jensen. Jensen slouched down a bit so that his face was mostly blocked by Cougar's shoulder.

"Well, he's pretty out of it, so if one of you wants to come back with me to get him…" The nurse said finally, letting her voice trail off as the Losers glanced at each other.

"Don't look at me," Aisha said. "I had to empty his puke bucket."

"No," Cougar said simply. Jensen glanced at the nurse again.

"I'm good," he said quietly. Pooch sighed.

"I get the damn paperwork and now this," he grumbled, standing and following the nurse. He could barely contain a half-chuckle, half-groan when he heard Jensen's unmistakable voice.

"But seriously guys, didn't she look like a WWE fighter?"

xxxx

A/N (again): So I've actually had a few hemiplegic migraines before, and my parents did think I was having a stroke the first time it happened…pretty much the crappiest thing I've ever experienced, and most of Clay's symptoms mirror the ones I've had.