Disclaimer: DC owns everything. Including me.
Author's Notes: Like The Fall, this story is part of my attempt to figure out Nolanverse Sherry. If you're unfamiliar with the gal from comics, a certain young Scarecrow harbored feelings for her before things went downhill. I'm planning to cover their situation more in-depth with Of White Coats and Straightjackets, but wanted to address a relatively common question from Batman Begins...
"Come on Jon, I swear he won't—"
Sherry sighed, moving her fingers over the horse's neck. Jonathan fidgeted with his books before looking down self-consciously.
A scoff. "Of course not."
"Then what's the problem?"
He caught her eyes, light brown and slightly impatient above withered grass. "I don't have a death wish."
The laughter startled him, prompting a glare that didn't phase Sherry at all. "You won't die. Come on," she extended an arm, "I promise not to let go."
"Don't you trust me?"
After some hesitation, he took her hand.