::hands over keys to someone who can keep her pups in line::
She was panting, gasping, wheezing a little, because it hurt, oh god, it hurt and wouldn't someone just please, please make it stop, she'd do anything if only the pain would stop!
She was cold, but sweating, and she could hear the raging winter wind blowing through the cracks in the boards. She cried out as her body shook and shuddered, as the baby shifted inside of her.
But she was frail, and weak, and the baby was strong. "Tom," she gasped to the woman beside her. "Tom, for his father. Tom Marvolo Riddle," she whispered. If nothing else, she'd give the boy a name ... because she didn't think she'd be able to give him anything else.
She could feel herself fading ...
She felt herself ... falling. A harsh bark of air crossed her lips as she felt herself hitting a hard floor. Her hands flew to her belly, but it was ... well, not flat, but not swollen with child anymore, either. "Tom," she gasped as she tried to open her eyes only to realize they were open.
Merope peered through the grey haze surrounding her vision - or tried to. She couldn't see anything, or anyone, but she heard ... something. The scrape of a chair against the floor, a sigh, a mutter of 'not another one' and then someone stepping over to her, crouching over her. Hands were on her, and she cried out but she was weak, so weak. "Please, Tom," she whispered as she squinted to peer through the fog toward the person over her ...
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A quiet noise parted her lips as she jerked, as she twitched, as she slowly came awake. Her lashes fluttered as her eyes opened, and she looked around curiously. She didn't know where she was, but it looked nice. Nicer than the orphanage. Nicer than her house. Nicer than the alleys she'd curled up in in London while she was pregnant.
Her lips parted and she almost called out before she thought better of it. No, no need to draw attention to herself. She could just ... sleep a bit more. Her eyes closed, and she started to let herself do just that before she remembered.
Tom!
Sitting up, she pushed at the covers. Someone must know where her baby was. Someone had to have taken care of him while she couldn't. While she was ... asleep. Or unconscious. "Hello?" she called softly, hopefully. Maybe someone was there, just outside the door, listening? Waiting for her to wake up?