A/n: First of all, I'm really, really sorry for the long wait. I didn't have my computer, so I couldn't type this chapter, but it's finally here! Enjoy, and give me feedback, please!

I couldn't go straight home, so I decided to go to James's apartment. Judging by the yellow tape across the door, the police had already been here. I cursed, hoping they hadn't gotten to it. I squatted down and peeled back the worn, ugly welcome mat to get to the spare key hidden there. I pulled down the tape and slipped the key into the lock. My hand froze, not wanting to turn the key and open the door. I forced myself to swallow the lump in my throat, willing myself to hold back the wave of tears. Come on, Jade, I told myself, just open the door and go straight to it! Almost painfully, I twisted the lock and pushed the door open, my fingers finding the light switch automatically after so many years of habit.

Everything was in order, most likely put in place after the cops had been here. I crossed the room to get to the bedroom. His door was closed, and I paused for a moment, picturing that he was behind the closed door, typing furiously as he worked on another project for a new client. I shook my head, forcing myself to stop daydreaming about things that were never going to happen again.

Breathing shakily, I pushed the door open and surveyed the room quickly, finding everything to be in place in her as well. If there wasn't tape on the door, I wouldn't have even known the police had been here. I went over to the closet and slid the doors open. Dropping to my knees, I pushed aside boxes and shoes to get to the safe all the way in the back. Pulling it out, I was surprised that it was heavier than when I'd first seen it.

"I made this lock myself." James had bragged smugly, "So if anything ever happened to me, no one could get into it, no one but you. You'll know the password when the time comes." He'd told me.

I didn't know what was in it, then or now, nor had I understood then, but it almost seemed like he knew something would happen eventually, and I'm willing to bet it started around the time Joker came into the picture. I turned the safe around so the keypad was facing me and crossed my legs. After thinking for a moment, I punched in my old social security. The little light flashed red as it beeped. I frowned and bit my lip, thinking a bit more. I typed in my birth name and it beeped again. As a final attempt, I typed in Jessica Hale, my sister's name. Oddly, the little light turn green, and I briefly wondered why James had chosen it when I shook it off and opened the lid. A bunch of papers sat on top, and when I lifted them, I nearly gasped at what laid beneath them: rows of money stacked nearly to the brim.

I took out a few bills and thumbed through them, my eyebrows rising higher when I saw they were all hundreds. I replaced the money and picked up the papers, turning them over so I could see the familiar writing:

Jade,

If you're reading this, then it means I've failed at keeping you safe and I'm not there to tell you this in person. The least I can do is tell you the truth— the whole truth. So, let me start from the beginning.

When I was younger, maybe around three or so, my mother left my father, my biological father. He was abusive, always hitting on her, but like I said, I was too little, so I don't remember much of it, or him, for that matter. But one day, he turned from her to me, and that was the last straw for my mom; she left. She took me and moved us from Chicago to Gotham. A few years later, she remarried and had my little sister.

I don't know how much I'll end up telling you before you find this letter, so I'll just put it all here. A few years before I met you, she was attacked and killed. I kind of lost it after that; I dropped out of school and got involved with the wrong kind of people. Once, I was supposed to do a delivery for the mob, but it was a setup; a cop showed up instead. I almost went down for it, but Joker ended up killing the cop. Since he saved my ass, I started off trying to repay the debt by doing a few small jobs for him. The pay was a bit too good to pass up, so I kept going back for more work. It was fine, at least until I found you.

After I found you, and you told me your story, I decided to look you up, just to see how much of the truth you were telling me (I could tell that it was something you weren't telling me). I found out that your father and sister were found dead in your old house, and you were missing. I thought your father's name sounded familiar, so I did a bit more digging and found that your father had three kids: you, your sister, and me. He must have met your mother sometime after my mom left him, so I guessed that his habits hadn't changed, and he was still abusive. I did a bit more snooping in your family's hospital records, and my suspicions were confirmed. So after looking at the police reports on your father's and sister's death, I put most of two and two together before you'd even told me the rest of what had happened.

I stared at the paper in shocked silence, reading and rereading the words as the pieces clicked in my mind. My father was James's father. He was my brother? He didn't resemble him, so I guess he must've resembled his mother more… I sat the papers on the floor in front of me, my mind trying to process the new information. It would have explained why he didn't want me around Joker; he'd gotten the chance to re-do what he failed to do with his other sister, but… why not tell me that we were related if he knew? I bit my lip hard, trying to hold back the fresh wave of tears as I picked up the papers.

I know you must hate that I hadn't told you the truth, but I couldn't. Not then, at least; you weren't ready. Of course, I had to take care of you; I felt like I had to. Not because you were an obligation, but because I'd failed to take care of my sister the first time, and I'd have been damned if I let a second chance slip by. I know it sounds pretty selfish, but I won't say sorry. You were just a kid when you got here, and Gotham would have eaten you alive. I know it's odd, and you probably won't understand it, but it was a feeling I got after I found out. I knew I loved you and I wanted you safe. I don't regret what I did.

So I changed your name and got the right documents for you to finish school. I let you stay with me until you were old enough to get your place, but even then I kept you close. I taught you what I know about computers so you could hold your own without me, just in case something happened to me. Things were fine until you told me Joker contacted you. I knew he was dangerous, so of course I tried to figure out why he was interested in you.

Strangely enough, I kept getting dead ends. I was the one who took his info out of the system, and I kept copies of all of it just in case, but there wasn't much there in the first place. You kept pressuring me to tell you why I was getting so protective, but I couldn't tell you why unless I told you everything…

It's why I'm writing this now; I planned on telling you everything tonight, but this is a worst-case-scenario back-up plan. I'm sorry if I don't get to tell you everything I know, but it's important you know what you're getting into. I figured I must have failed at getting you out of Gotham, so whatever happened to me, I want you to keep living. For me, for your sister, and most importantly, for yourself. Like I said, the Joker's a dangerous man, so if you let him kill you after I'd tried to get you out, I'll bring you back to life and kill you again myself. I love you, kid. Remember that.

James.

(P.S— I left some money in the safe, and I want you to keep half of it. The other half, I want you to take to my mother.)

On the back of the last sheet, he'd written his mother's address down. I blinked down at the paper, kind of confused. I'd never met the woman; hell, he'd barely ever mentioned her. So why would he want me to meet her after he was gone? I looked up at the clock on his nightstand, and, with a short mental argument with myself, I grabbed the safe and headed for the door.

James's mother lived in one of the nicer areas of Gotham. The house was a nice one, nicer than any place I'd ever lived in. It had a small lawn, white fence, and a fairly nice car parked in the driveway, meaning that someone was home. It would be a perfect picture in the dictionary for the "American Dream". Great.

I pulled at the loose thread on the sleeve of my jacket nervously as I stood at the end of the driveway, wondering if I should just send the money and the letter he'd left for her in the mail. Before I could talk myself out of it, I stalked up to the door and knocked loudly. I winced and stepped back, almost punching myself for being such an idiot. The opened a few tense moments later and an older female version of James stood inside. They shared the same grey eyes, the same brown hair, but she had a few grey hairs and faint wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and mouth that hinted at her age.

I must have been staring because she cleared her throat, "May I help you?"

I blinked and started, shifting my weight and wetting my dry lips before I spoke, "I'm sorry. Are you Mrs. Peyton, James Peyton's mother?"

Her shoulders stiffened before sagging under the weight of her lack of sleep. "Yes… the police have already been by here, and I told them—"

"Oh, no, I'm not with the police, ma'am." I interrupted her before she could close the door in my face. "I'm… was a… friend of James's." I struggled with my words, not sure if I should tell her that I was his sister. "He sent me here."

I could see the confusion on her face, but she stepped back and opened the door to let me in. She led me into the living room, and I hovered nervously before sitting on one of the couches. Mrs. Peyton sat across from me on the other couch. The next few moments were awkward silence until I reached in my purse and pulled out the envelope with her name on it and gave it to her.

"I went to his house after I'd heard what had happened." I said quietly, staring at my twisted hands in my lap. I blinked back the tears that were building, determined to not cry until I was done here. "He'd left a note telling me to give you that and this." I sat the bag on the coffee table with her half of the money.

She looked down at the envelope in her hand as she spoke, "You were close with him?" her eyes shined with the tell-tale sign of tears.

I looked away, a lump in my throat as I nodded, unable to speak. As she began to open the envelope, I stood abruptly, turning towards the door. "I'm sorry, I have to go." I mumbled, not wanting to intrude on her private moment.

Before she could stop me, I rushed towards the door, nearly slamming it behind me as I ran.

I didn't make it home before I broke down in tears. I sank onto a park bench, my chest heaving as I struggled to get air into my lungs. My sobs echoed around me, and I brought my legs up to my chest, burying my face in between them. "It isn't fair." I whispered to myself. "It isn't… fair…"