Disclaimer: I do not own ff7 or any of its characters.

Authors note: Well, heres the second chapter. Theres a lot in this one, so I won't blame you if you get a bit lost. Please bare with it, it covers quiet a few years and events. Hope you still like it.

Sparkler Part 2

Gren kept his word. He wrote to them, though they received far less letters then he sent. Censor. He sent them money too. A quarter of his pay, as he had to save up for new equipment. He also visited, occasionally. He said it was tough, getting a pass into the slums when he was still a Rookie. They would meet him at the station, and make a fuss, but in the end, he always went back again.

It had been four months before Gren first visited. He was only allowed to stay for the day. The boys went crazy, especially Dan and Pete. They went around proclaiming how they were all going to join SOLDIER and be under Gren's command. Jessie could see how pleased that made him.

She asked him to tell her about it, once the boys had gone off to play with the burnt out car that had arrived last week. They were in the junkyard, sitting on the hideouts makeshift roof. The smog of the city was clinging to the surrounding buildings.

'The sky, Jessie, and the air, it's so clean up there! Ye can see the stars at night. Not like here. I'll show ye some time.'

'phhft.'

He frowned at her.

'Don't scoff, I will, you'll love it, I know ye will.'

Jessie picked at a scab on her knee, and pretended not to be jealous.

'Whadda 'bout yer training? Do you hafta shoot a gun yet?'

'I've done a bit in basic training, but mostly I'm a messenger at the moment. I'm too young ta be a proper SOLDIER yet, the real training don' start 'til you're fifteen.'

Four months gone, but Jessie could already see him changing. It wasn't just his speech, so much more polished then before, but it was his attitude as well. He looked at the Shamble House as if it was a thing of the past, a place to come back to for duty's sake. Not as a waiting home. Already, Gren was leaving.

'I'm gonna be a real SOLDIER one day, Jessie.'

He spoke softly, gazing down at the lads who were scuffing about in the yard. She sat in silence, not sure what to say.

'A real SOLDIER, not like them grunts I hafta serve under now. I mean a real one, with mako eyes.'

Jessie stared at him in shock.

'Ye wanna be one of them witch-men with shining gleemers?'

Gren frowned at the slang name, even though he had said it many a time.

'They're the best of the best. I saw some of 'em training. It was awesome. Ye'll see, I'll make it.'

They both fell silent then.

Gren left that evening, back up to the plate. Macca had strange look on his face as he watched his half-brother leave for the Upper Plate, but Jessie couldn't place it at all.

She often wondered what life was like for him. He told her stuff, when he visited, but she wondered about all the stuff he didn't mention. What were the men like, those that he learned from? Did they look down at the slum rat who wanted to play soldier?

Macca was relying on her more and more, even though she was only young. He got her to do the small jobs that he was too busy to do. She learned how to connect and cut wires, how to short-circuit a system.

She saw less of the boys, though still tried to get out with them at times. Dan was getting older, taking Gren's place as leader. He still took note of Jessie though; his sister could beat him black and blue if he gave her any sass. Arn was starting to come out with them, not wanting to be left under their mother's watchful eye. They had to teach him the tricks of the trade, all the side street routes, the best places to steal from, which areas to avoid. Pete especially enjoyed having a younger kid to boss around.

It seemed like a blink of an eye, but before she could figure it out, Jessie was fourteen.

Her days of scrabbling around the back-alleys with her brothers were over. She had to work full time to bring in enough money to feed the family. Macca's gambling had taken a dangerous turn.

Times were always tough in Midgar, ever since the war. But things in the slums had become drastically worse over the past few years. The pollution had always been on the back of everybody's minds, but it was becoming harder and harder to breath properly without choking yourself. And there was the food shortage. Not that that was a new phenomenon in the slums, it went without saying that those on the Plate got the cream pickings, while those underneath were left to rot.

Jessie knew Gren had no problems with food. The few times he had come down to see them he had grown far bigger and stronger then any of them. Like a tank.

And there was always Avalanche.

Not that she knew many solid facts about the rebel insurgents. For all Shinra demonized them with propaganda, Jessie didn't have it in her heart to go against them. It was hopeless, of course. It would take more then a rag-tag bunch of people to take down the mighty corporation.

Still, if there was any hope, it was Avalanche. They had evaded Shinra's dogs so far.

At the moment, she was sitting quietly in the Shamble House, bouncing the newest addition to the family, baby Jan, on her knee.

She sighed. Ray, her second youngest brother, had died just after his second birthday. It had been a virus, a disease or something. It wasn't unusual, plenty of babes in the slums died early on. Her Ma had been devastated. She hadn't gotten out of bed for weeks, leaving Jessie to run the house. It was only when Macca went spare at her for acting like '-a stupid trull, get up an' stop yer pining, there'll be more a-coming anyhow-' that her Ma got up. She was back to her old self soon enough.

Here was her Ma now, bustling around the family room, and chastising the lads for eating like pigs. Macca was out, gambling.

'Sit up, you lot, an' quit yer jabbering, yer sound like rats in a sewer, the way yer b'having.'

'But Ma, ye forget, we are a bunch o' rats!'

'Whiskers an' all!'

The two boys ducked their heads laughing to avoid a swipe from their Ma, and Jessie tried not to chuckle as well.

'Ooh, ye scurvy curs! What did a mot like me do ta deserve the likes of you lot.'

'I can tell ye Ma, it happens when a mot an' a cove…'

If she let him, Pete would rabbit on with his foul mouth all night. They may be slum rats, but the McKenzie crew wasn't a rude, uncivilized mob. Her Ma had said as much. Jessie stood up, babe on her hip, and pinched her little brothers ear, twisting it painfully.

'Ye stop that dirty mouth of yers this instant Peter McKenzie, or you'll be right sorry! What has Ma told you about fouling the language in this house, hmmm?'

She let him whimper there for a moment before releasing his ear. Pete yelped as he fell to the floor, his brothers rolling around in laughter at his punishment.

Ma scowled at them again.

'Stop tha' racket now! Peter! I want an' apology from ye for Jessie here!'

Ma bustled into the kitchen as the browbeaten Pete sullenly stood up and expressed his regrets to Jessie. She smiled and ruffled his hair affectionately.

All the boys, even the baby was in bed before Macca came home that night. Jessie had waited up with her mother; they both knew the deal by now.

Sure enough, well past midnight, the old man arrived stumbling home from the bar. He staggered into the house, half drunk, only to be caught by his silent wife and daughter.

Jessie could see the worry lines on her Ma's face as they dragged him to bed. He wasn't laughing, dancing or trying to kiss Ma, so they knew he had lost more then his dignity tonight.

Her Ma spoke softly in the darkness of the room.

'Ofta bed now, Jessie-lass, ye'll be havin' a hard day's work ahead tomorra.'

It was the same every night. Jessie had no doubt that they would be flat broke if she didn't pilfer at least half of her Da's pay to keep the house hold with. She didn't know if he was aware of it, but her Ma said it was best not to enlighten him.

When she was in her fifteenth year, Jessie dropped out of school to work with Macca full time. She would actually be paid full wages now. Not that it was very much, it was less then her fathers because she was a girl, but it was damn better them nothing.

She met all his work mates, although she knew most of them already, and she had never met Mr Ignis. He was a half-crazy old man who had been a sparky for as long as any of the men could remember yet had never done an ounce of constructive work, at least, any that the other sparky's could see. He was a wiry thin man with ash gray skin and a drinking problem. Macca told her he was a veteran. Jessie asked what of and he said the Wutai War.

That had shut her up.

He was all right, if you got him on a good day. Whenever Jessie saw him he was shuffling around his little workroom, frizzy hair askew and back hunched over his table.

One day he caught her watching him. His deep-set eyes gave Jessie a chill and she was pinned to the spot by his piercing gaze. Instead of yelling at her to take a trip, he had smiled gleefully and beckoned her over.

She had walked over cautiously to his workbench. It was a heaped pile of gadgets, wires and trinkets that Jessie had no idea what they were. Mr Ignis had some kind of gadget in front of him. It looked like it had a timer on it, as well as a couple of buttons and gauges.

'Ye wan' ta see wha' eim up ta, gixie, eh?'

Having no idea as what to say to the crazy man, Jessie bit her lip and nodded. He cackled gleefully like a small child up to mischief and motioned her closer.

'Ei'll tell ye a little secret then, Ei shall.'

He looked around warily, as if to make sure no one was in earshot.

'Ye wan' ta see what this ole' mad cove gits up ta all day?'

He moved back to show her the collection of gadgets scattered around him. Jessie found, despite herself, that she was half-curious to see what the old man actually did. She took a little step forward.

With a shaky hand, Mr Ignis, picked up object in front of him.

'Itssa bomb.'

Jessie's eyes widened, and she almost jumped when he tossed it casually in the air to catch it with the other wizened hand. He chuckled at her reaction

'No fear, young gixie, it willna' go off, its got no powder, see?'

Turning the supposed bomb over, he showed her.

'Ei don' have any of the stuff needed, well, no' much anyhow. Those tha' buy 'em off me get tha' themselves.'

Jessie felt her stomach turn over. The old man sold bombs. It made her slightly afraid yet intrigued at the same time. She managed to get her voice working.

'Who…who do ye sell 'em to?'

Mr Ignis merely winked, tapped his nose with his finger.

No' fer the likes of ye ta know, lass. Don' go spillin' like a birdie on this ole cove, will ye?'

Seeing her hurried nod, he turned his back to her and started fiddling around with one of his little gizmos. Jessie took it as her dismissal and backed away.

It wasn't always easy for Jessie to do her work. She was still young and inexperienced. Many clients gave her trouble, especially if Macca wasn't around. She'd had to knee a man in the privets more then once when they'd tried to grope her. She always went away fuming and humiliated. Macca did nothing, if and when she told him. He'd just shrug and tell her it was the slums.

She spoke to Mr Ignis again. He didn't work solely on bombs. He made other things too. Things that would open electric Shinra doors, decrypt codes, and trace a bugged person. He even eventually taught her how to make some of the stuff herself. Sometimes he would call her over to show her the newest device he was working on. Sometimes he had such a fowl temper she did everything in her power to avoid him.

She guessed they became friends. Not close friends, but they didn't mind the others company.

The biggest mistake you could make with ole' Ignis was mentioning the war.

'Hey, Ignis…'

It was a good day, he was showing her how the wires connected up on one of the more complicated devices.

'…where d'ye learn all this any way?'

She saw his back stiffen. He made no reply.

'Sir…?'

Jessie stepped up, frowning.

'Was it…it-it wasn' in the war, was it?'

He whirled suddenly on her, roaring.

'DON' YE SAY NOTHIN' BOUT THE WAR, AN' NOTHING BOUT THEM GODS CURSED YELLA SKIN SLANT EYES!!!'

His eyes looked glazed and unfocused. Jessie leapt away from him, heart in mouth. She was stunned, afraid, shocked.

It took a moment for Jessie to realize that Mr Ignis wasn't looking at her. He was looking past her. As suddenly as it had arrived, she saw the anger on his face fade away, watched as his shoulders slowly slumped down. His fists, raised in anger, dropped to his sides. He just stood there, staring.

'M…Mister I-Ignis?…ye…you alright?'

When he made no answer, Jessie stepped tentatively forward, hesitating in uncertainty.

'Ignis?'

'…couladoneitifjen-'

'huh?'

The old man looked up at her surprised, as if he had been unaware of her presence. Shaking his head, he turned slowly to lean heavily on the workbench.

'Ah, min gixie, off ye git now.'

His voice was soft, scratchy and ever so weary. Jessie stared at him and realized his face was the same. Old, weary and haunted by the past.

'Hurrugh…go on, lass, ye ma'll be waiting fer ye.'

Ignis waved her away, and Jessie felt she should do something, but did not know what. There was nothing else but leave. Truth was, she felt like crying, but she didn't want to put that guilt onto the old man. Walking quickly away, she glanced back briefly to see old Mr Ignis move into the shadows of his lonely workroom, and wearily make ready for the coming night.

Hmm...just mentioning that the out burst still feels a bit iffy to me, as I'm not quiet sure how well it works. What do you think of Mr Ignis? Well, please review to give me some tips and your opinion.