Work Text:
“Kitty! Give it back! Lizzie said it’s my turn!” Lydia whined, reaching for the toy Kitty was holding over her head. Kitty was also standing a few steps up and would kick out at Lydia every time it seemed the youngest Bennet would try to come up.
“I want to play with it now,” Kitty said snootily, “you should respect your older sisters. Māma says so.”
“Bàba says that we shouldn’t be,” Lydia paused, her five-year-old face scrunching up in deep thought as she carefully sounded out Jeremy Bennet’s oft repeated phrase. “Fool-har-dy and e-go-tis-tic-al about oneself.”
“Bàba isn’t here right now,” Kitty said, moving one of the toy’s arms in a seemingly absent-minded way.
“It’s my turn!” Lydia stomped her little foot in frustration. “Lizzie said so!”
Kitty glared at her, but then smiled. “Fine.” She tossed the toy at the youngest Bennet sister with a little more force than was absolutely necessary.
The toy hit Lydia on the top of her head and bounced off, crashing to the floor, breaking into a dozen pieces. Lydia’s hand came up to the top of her head, and she looked between Kitty and the toy, her eyes getting wet. Kitty’s eyes were wide and her mouth was slightly ajar, surprised at the completely unexpected turn of events that would occur when a toy was thrown from a few steps up towards a five-year-old with motor skills which befit the age.
Lydia burst into loud sobs, clutching her head, her hair scrunched up in her fists. It didn’t take long before the sounds of running reached the two youngest sisters. Kitty stood a step up from Lydia, her face turning pink with the effort to not cry like Lydia was. Jane, Lizzie, and Mary came into the hall, eyes frantic and mouths downturned with concern.
“What happened? Is everyone okay?” Mary asked, looking at Kitty, whose eyes were shiny with unshed tears, and at Lydia, who was still sobbing loudly.
Lydia attempted to say something between her sobs, but nothing intelligible in English nor in Mandarin came out. Lizzie spotted the broken pieces of the toy scattered around and nudged Jane’s arm, nodding towards it. The two eldest sisters quickly figured out what happened.
“You and Mary should get them cleaned up and get Lyddie some ice,” Jane said, eyes still on the broken toy.
Lizzie nodded and directed her attention towards Kitty and Lydia. “Let’s go get you cleaned up and get some ice.” She and Mary both held out their hands to their sisters, and after a few moments of sniffling from both Kitty and Lydia, the youngest two each took a hand.
“We’ll be in the living room,” Lizzie told Jane over her shoulder. Lydia looked miserable next to her, face red and wet from tears and snot, and her hair bunched up and messy like a scarecrow.
Jane stood in the hall, watching her sisters leave, before she turned her attention to the bits of plastic scattered around. Sighing, she crouched down and started picking up the largest pieces, setting them off to the side. Once that was done, she went into the hall cupboard and pulled out a broom and dustpan, sweeping up the rest of the toy. She put the broom back and walked to the nearest rubbish bin, which was in the bathroom, and dumped the dustpan into it. A moment’s pause to put the dustpan away, and Jane was on her way with the toy to the living room.
The other four were sitting on the sofa, tissues piled in laps and Lydia holding ice wrapped in a dish towel to her head.
Jane observed them, and set the pieces on the coffee table in front of them. She gave them a neutral expression, and with a tone that reminded them of their Bàba, asked, “Are we happy?”
Kitty and Lydia both started tearing up again, their dark eyes shining. Silently, they shook their heads, “no”.
“What did we learn from this, Kitty?” Jane asked, crossing her arms. Mary and Lizzie shared a glance, both of them seeing how Jane was imitating their Bàba.
Kitty mumbled something, looking down at her hands.
“Kitty?” Jane prompted again, not letting the second youngest off.
“Don’t throw things at Lydia,” she said reluctantly, tearing one of the tissues into shreds.
“And?”
Kitty looked up at Jane, silently asking her if she had to keep going. Jane just stared back at her impassively. “… Don’t take things when it’s not my turn…”
“Good.” Jane said. “Bàba will talk with you when he gets home from work.”
“What?” Kitty protested, hands stilling. “But you just–”
“You know the rules, Kitty.”
Kitty slumped into the sofa cushions, crossing her arms and glaring at the pile of tissues in her lap. Her feet kicked out in irritation, and she grumbled that this was unfair.
Jane and Lizzie felt no sympathy for her, having had gone through similar things before Kitty and Lydia were born.