Finn's head pounded. His vision blurred and the words on the page ran together. The flickering lights weren't helping. In fact, every time they switched off, Finn felt like something exploded in his brain. Then the power just clicked off. For a moment all was well. Finn's vision cleared, the pain vanished and he released a breath he hadn't noticed he was holding. A soft whisper replaced the pounding.
Then the lights, all power came back all at once and the pain...it felt like Finn had been hit in the face with a branding iron. He screamed and grabbed his head, his weight shifted and the chair tipped under him, dumping him onto the floor. He curled up, kicked out, moaning and clinging to his calp. Sometime during the blinding pain, Burt came to stand over him, reassuring, strong hands on his arms and shoulders, pulling him to reality, any reality besides the pain in his hand. "Are you okay?" Finn finally heard Burt ask.
Nodding felt like trying to bend a lead pipe. "Yeah" he reassured. He winced at his own voice, both from its volume and from how weak he sounded. It felt weird, feeling Burt's large hand do the mom check-for-fever thing. "I'm fine."
"No." Burt replied, and suddenly Finn felt Burt supporting about half his eight. "You're not fine." Just like that Finn was vertical and half walking half being carried to his room. His face hadn't been hot before when Burt checked but now he was blushing furiously. He was being helped into bed like he was a little kid. He saw his mom's concerned expression. Then he was being eased onto his side. He curled up and felt Burt's hand on his back. His step-father's voice was low and strangely soothing and it pushed through the pain in Finn's skull. "What happened? Do you want me to turn the lights off? Has this happened before?"
"No" Finn murmured, his own voice was still too loud. Burt was obviously terrified and, really, it was just a headache. A blinding, crippling headache, certainly, but nothing he should have been half carried to bed for. He shifted and looked up at Burt. His gut twisted at the look of subdued terror on Burt's face. He winced as he whispered "I'm Sorry."
"No problem" Burt assured him. Finn closed his eyes, as much against the aching knowledge that this man wasn't really his father as against the steady beating his skull was inflicting on his brain. Burt stood slowly, then quietly even to Finn's sensitive head "I'll come check on you before we start dinner." Finn could hear Burt's footfalls as he left. The lights were off in the room now and for a moment, the pain lessened. Fin's mind cleared just long enough for him to wonder what the hell was happening to him.
Then the whispering started. Tiny, skittering, indistinguishable voices all talking at once in his head. The pain increased and there was the sound of someone moaning. Finn wasn't entirely aware that it was him. Head under his hands, Finn curled to protect himself. He just had no idea what he was trying to protect himself from. Then, one voice, unfamiliar, as scratchy and terrible as the rest cut through the pain over the rest of them. The words should have been chilling, this whole situation should have terrified him. Yet somehow, when Finn heard the words "We Will Rise" he took a strange sort of comfort, and the pain lessened further. "We Will Rise" repeated the voice. Finn knew, in all of the logical places in his head that whatever that raspy, skittering voice belonged to was not something he wanted rising. Those places had all been flooded with pain though. To him, the voice that said "We Will Rise and you will help us." was making a perfectly reasonable request.
Just above a whisper, he asked aloud "What can I do?"