REBOOT Halo Universe: A Land Of Titans

Title: Remembering The Rookies

Description: An older SPARTAN comes across an old friend during a mission, only to see that his buddy is still an ODST, despite his warnings. This is about the day Slade worried about someone more than himself, this about the day Bruce nearly died in a war zone. This is about two heroes, one who still follows a noble path by our people's standards, and one who walks a far more complex and battered road.

A/N: Really sad drabble, decided to write it after listening to music on Youtube. If anyone is to blame here, it's Chemical Romance.

...

"Find anything yet, soldier?"

"Not yet, sir!"

"Well keep looking, there's gotta be a survivor around here somewhere."

A large, strong SPARTAN oversaw a group of young space marines as they searched through the rubble that was the remains of Decemberest; one of twelve planets that were the UNSC's main stations for military camps, military prisons, and housing. The poor, innocent planet had been home to hundreds of neutral Covenant and human civilians who had declared themselves against the great war, and had gone into hiding. However, the Covenant was not at all pleased to see many of their own species fleeing the war, and decided to teach them a rather grizzly lesson.

Slade Wilson, the SPARTAN guy, had no idea if there were any survivors. He had seen a few animals and stray alien pets, but otherwise, only one or two children had been found thus far in the rubble. He searched around a bit himself, looking for any signs of life in the terrible destruction caused by several hundred Covenant ships that had attacked the area only two days prior. The troopers had only been able to enter now thanks to the heavy danger, but according to rumors, a few ODST's had been secret dropped in during the fighting.

As Slade turned over a large, concrete block; he came to a halt, staring down at the helmet before him. He slowly picked it up in his big, gloved hands and turned it over a few times, reading off the label quickly. Bruce-420 (He had always joked about that). This was Bruce Wayne's helmet... Slade's best friend. The man shot up, tossing the black and yellow helmet away before diving into the rubble, digging and digging, looking for any remains of his dearest friend.

"Come on, Bruce." Slade muttered very angrily, rooting through the trash and destruction. "I know you're in here... don't you give up on me, soldier."

A loud coughing broke Slade's train of thought, making him blink and step back in surprise as a hand shot out of the mass amounts of carnage and rocks, dragging the rest of himself behind him. "Don't you know," Bruce began, grinning at Slade, face covered in cut and gashed. "I'm a trooper."

Slade bit back the temptation to chuckle, quickly kneeling down and digging the other man out of the rubble, ignoring any other one-liners Bruce might try to pull on him. "Get up, trooper." He muttered, yanking Bruce up and out of the rubble, tossing him unceremoniously over his shoulder. "I'm getting you to a medic."

Bruce coughed up blood, clearing his lungs. "Wow... guess I should say thank you." He muttered weakly.

"Guess you should stop talking and try breathing, Wayne." Slade snapped, trudging over the destroyed battle field and towards a medic tent. "Keep your trap shut, we're almost there."

"And here I thought I was a goner..." Bruce admitted, starting to black out. "Dammit... they really got me this time, huh?"

Slade continued into the tent, tossing Bruce onto a table. "Too bad they didn't kill you, or at least make you mute."

"Whatever... surprised to see you here, Deathstroke. It's been a long time since I saw you, when was it... 2552, start of the war?" Bruce asked, relaxing slightly on the medical cot. "You're still doing that damned mercenary work, right?"

"It wasn't that long ago... and yes, I'm still a mercenary, Bruce. In fact, I recently trained your son, Richard Grayson. A fine student, liked to spare the innocent." Slade explained.

Bruce wheezed, glaring at the tent ceiling. "Goddammit... I'm gonna kill that boy..."

"Not if those injuries kill you first." A nurse said, passing by as she got a few things ready. "We'll be needing you to leave the area, sir." She said, facing Slade with a worried expression. "Wayne needs immediate surgery."

Slade nodded, standing up and giving Bruce's shoulder a small squeeze. "Good luck, rookie."

"Rookie?" Bruce repeated, just before the anesthetic could be put on him. "I haven't been called a rookie in years."

"Well... you're still one to me, Wayne." Slade said before walking away, mind refocusing on his mission to clean up the area.

...

SLADE: 9, Bruce: 6

"You gotta reach for it, Bruce!" Slade said happily as he stood high above his best friend, holding up a stuffed teddy bear.

"No fair!" Bruce yelled, glaring at Slade as he stomped his foot childishly. "You're all bigger than me 'cus you gotta be a SPARTAN." He pointed out, crossing his arms as his face grew redder with his building anger.

Slade sighed, handing back the stuffed animal to Bruce. He could've kept teasing him, he probably wanted to, but he'd never make Bruce cry on purpose. "Sorry, Bruce. If you could be a SPARTAN, I'd totally get them to sign you up. But... they won't let you, I'm sorry."

Bruce sniffed, hugging his stuffie to his chest. "I just wish you weren't gone all the time... I miss you."

"I know, rookie." Slade said, kneeling down on one knee to lock eyes with Bruce, icy blue eyes meeting a similar pair. "But listen, you've still got Mr. Pennyworth to hang out with, and whats cooler than an ex-assassin?"

"He never wants to do stuff." Bruce argued, still looking ready to cry. "I... I miss my parents." He launched into Slade, hugging him tightly as tears finally fell from his eyes.

Slade hugged back, rubbing his buddy's back kindly. "Look... how about we go into town and see that new space movie? You know, that one about the cowboys who meet those super cool alien guys?"

"Really?" Bruce asked, tears drying as he rubbed his eyes weakly.

"Sure." Slade said, taking the much younger boys hand in his own as he headed for the mansions door. "If we hurry, we can even get ice cream afterwards."

Bruce looked even more excited now. "I love ice cream, especially vanilla!" He declared happily, hopping up and down.

"I know you do." Slade said, ignoring the fact that in three days, he'd be dropped off for another mission on another planet, far from Earth.

But, Slade Wilson refused to think about that, instead, he thought about aliens and cowboys as well as different flavors of ice cream as he led his best and only friend to the movie theater. And if anyone were to tease Slade about being best friends with a 'rich rat', or if anyone teased Bruce for being friends with a 'street thug', Slade would knock their teeth out.

...

SLADE: 19, BRUCE: 16

"Are you really leaving?"

Slade sighed as he adjusted his chest plate, staring into a mirror intently as he tried not to look directly at the sixteen year old behind him, who was seated patiently on his own queen sized bed. It was true, Slade-372 of the SPARTAN's, was about to go to the very depths of the Human-Covenant war. He wouldn't be coming back in a long time, if he even survived at all. But at the very least, if he was coming home again one day, Slade knew that Bruce would be waiting for him.

"Yes, Bruce. For the millionth time, yes, I'm leaving for the war. Don't worry, I'll be back before you even notice I'm gone." Slade said, it wasn't a promise, God no, he couldn't promise his best buddy a thing. Not when he knew that he wasn't coming back, not when Slade was going on a suicide mission in three days. "I'll be back soon."

Bruce stared at Slade, eyes full of fear for his friend. It was only now that Slade realized how much Bruce had grown, that his friend wasn't so tiny anymore. Bruce had gotten much taller in the last two years, not nearly reaching Slade's height, but at least he wasn't tiny. He was working out alot too, his muscles now becoming lean and apparent on his still somewhat thin body. Bruce's eyes were still that dazzling icy blue that matched Slade's own pair, the color still amazed the SPARTAN, it looked better on Bruce in his mind.

"You're not coming back, are you?" Bruce asked, locking eyes with Slade. Well, eye, Slade had lost his left eye three years ago in a battle.

Slade bit back a sigh, refusing to look at Bruce anymore as he looked away, throwing his space marine backpack over his shoulder. "I have to go, Bruce. I'll be back."

"Promise?" Bruce asked, jumping off the bed and glaring up at Slade, expecting an answer.

"I can't promise you that, Bruce. War is war, I can never guarantee anything for you." Slade explained, turning away as he walked out the door.

He had hoped Bruce would stop, but the raven haired teenager only followed close behind. "I'm coming with you." He declared, not looking the least bit scared for once in his life. "I'll join the space marines, maybe join up with your squad."

Slade whirled around, forcing Bruce against the wall by his shoulders. Slade glared at Bruce, bearing his icy blue eye to look at Bruce angrily. Bruce glared back, not being deterred by Slade's obvious aggression. "You listen to be, playboy. You weren't born for war; I was born with nothing else but war. You are not following me onto the battle field, I am not going to watch you die at the hands of a Covvie or by friendly fire."

"You can't stop me, Slade Wilson." Bruce stated clearly, not breaking eye contact with the older and far stronger teenager. "I have nothing else but a damned company, Slade. I'm not even good at being a playboy for God's sake! I'm following you into the war, I don't care what you do or say. Even if you leave this afternoon, I'll just go to the local sign-up, I can fake my age to be eighteen, you know I can." His voice was unbreaking, not about to fall.

Slade stared at Bruce for a long time before releasing the teenager, letting his friend fall with a crotch. "Fine." He said hollowly, not sounding the least bit pleased. "But if you go, Bruce... I'll never talk to you again."

"We'll see how long that lasts." Bruce said playfully, a wry smile on his face. Obviously his serious demeanor had fallen, and was once again replaced by the Bruce Wayne Slade knew so well. "What time are you leaving?" He asked.

Slade checked his watch, sighing deeply. "Two hours."

Bruce chuckled, already heading down the staircase, towards the front door. "Plenty of time to get signed up. Come on, Slade. Let's go."

Slade followed after Bruce. After they walked out the door, Slade looked back, giving Wayne Manor one last look. Little did Slade Wilson know, but that would be the last time he would ever see Wayne Manor.

...

CURRENT DAY

Now, Slade glared at a knocked out Bruce Wayne. Bruce's helmet and armor were gone, lost while he rested in a coma. Slade hoped he would wake up, as much as he hated Bruce at times... he was still his best and only friend. Slade needed Bruce, and Bruce needed Slade, that's how it was and always would be. They were all they had left. Slade's family was gone, leaving without saying goodbye. All Bruce had were his adopted children, who were all old enough to care for themselves, and no longer needed him around to save them. They were orphans, brought together by the hands of fate, although, neither Slade nor Bruce truly believed in such a thing.

"Wake up, Wayne." Slade muttered, staring down at the passed out hero, knowing full well that his friend might never re-awaken. "Dammit, just... pull it together! Don't you dare give up, Wayne."

After another hour, Slade started to wonder what he would do if Bruce died. He'd have to tell the kids, God... Richard would be devastated, Jason might get mad, Tim would be shocked, Cass would cry, Stephine would demand justice, Damian would kill everything in his path, and Terry would train himself until he collapsed. Slade shook his head, willing the thoughts away. It would be okay soon enough, Bruce was a fighter; he wouldn't die over something as small as a few bruises and broken bones.

"Slade?"

Slade snapped upwards, staring with one, wide eye at Bruce Thomas Wayne, who stared up at Slade lazily, looking tired and fatigued. "Bruce?" He asked, watching the billionaire carefully. "You're alive, I thought you'd die for certain!"

Bruce glares at you, the same glare he wore as an agitated teenager when you were both kids. "Fuck off, of course I'm alive, if I left, you'd do something incredibly idiotic, like killing everyone on my squad. Now help me up, I have work to do.

Slade helped the man to his feet, ignoring the way Bruce seemed to clutch onto Slade as they stood together. After that, Bruce managed to work his armor on, daring anyone to tell him to rest. Slade smiled, for once in his life, and stayed with Bruce until it was time for him to leave on another mission.

"You're leaving again?" Bruce asked that morning; he didn't ask in a sad and pathetic way like he did as a kid, but in a disappointed and worried way. "Another mission? Where?"

"Septemberest." Slade said simply, throwing a backpack over his shoulder as he turned around, facing the man who sat comfortably on his bed. "I'll see you again though, I can promise you that much, Wayne."

Bruce chuckled, watching Slade with a worried expression. "Just... make it back in one piece, alright?"

Slade nodded, walking away towards a parked Pelican. "You can count on it."

...

A/N: First completed drabble, hope you liked it, I'll definitely be getting further into the chemistry between these two later on in future drabbles, but for now, this should do well. Please R&R, would love some actual responses! Next drabble will be how the Teen Titans formed/how Beast Boy got his powers!

~Supercasey.