When You Come Back to Me Again

-Balto and all other related characters are the property of Universal Pictures.

-This story is based around the song ‘When You Come Back to Me Again’ by Garth Brooks. All rights to that song belong to him and his producer(s).

-This story and any ideas within are the property of LoneWolf (me). Please do not use any of these ideas or my plot without my specific permission. Thank you.

Chapter One

Nome, Alaska 1942

In a small house on the edge of town, Balto woke to the sun in his eyes. Blinking, he looked over at the person sleeping next to him. Jenna lay curled up under a thick wool blanket, her muzzle curled into a smile as she slept. Balto leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. Her eyes flickered open and her smile widened.

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

“Good morning Jenna.” Balto yawned as he stood, pulling on his work pants. “How do you like your eggs?”

“Over easy. Thanks.”

“Sure thing, Jen,” Balto said, kissing her once more on the cheek before walking out the back door. He came back into the kitchen with a pair of eggs from the ice chest outside. Cracking them into a pan, he smiled at Jenna as she came down the stairs. He poured two glasses of milk and held one out to her. She took it and sat down at the table. A moment later, Balto set her plate before her and sat down next to her with his. As he was about to lift his fork, though, he spotted someone out front and went to the door, opening it just as the paper boy arrived. The boy smiled and held out the morning news. Smiling back, Balto took it and put a dollar in the kid’s hand, much to the boy’s surprise.

“Sir,” he said, “what’s this for?”

“That should cover whatever we owe you.”

“But sir, the paper’s only a penny a day.”

“Then consider it a tip.”

“Thanks mister Balto,” the boy called as he dashed across the street to the next house. Balto waved and turned back inside. Sitting down at the table, he resumed eating as he and Jenna shared the paper. After breakfast, Balto went upstairs and came back down dressed for work; that is if fighting was considered a job. Wearing his Navy suit with pride, he topped the uniform with a dark blue officer’s cap that matched his own eyes perfectly.

“You’re leaving?” Jenna asked in surprise, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Jenna, you know I wouldn’t do that to you,” he replied, “I just have one thing to take care of at headquarters. Back soon.”

True to his word, Balto returned home in the afternoon carrying a slip of paper. Jenna took notice and asked what it was. Balto held it up and smiled.

“I’m taking my week of leave now.”

“I knew you wouldn’t miss our first anniversary.”

“Not for the world,” he grinned. Jenna wrapped her arms around him and they kissed for a moment. Jenna pulled back and smiled.

“Come on big guy, I made dinner.” Balto followed her into the kitchen and they ate by the candlelight. Later, Balto led Jenna into the living room and turned the radio on. He then turned and bowed to her.

“May I have this dance?” Jenna smiled and took his hand. As they began to sway with the music she said,

“I can’t believe it’s been a whole year.”

“One more week,” Balto replied, twirling Jenna around and catching her. As he held her close, Jenna draped her arms around his neck and pulled him towards her.

Suddenly, there came a knock at the door. At first, they tried to ignore it, but then it came again. Balto sighed and walked to the front door, throwing it open. Star’s familiar face stared back at him. Only fourteen, he had been too young to enlist when war broke out, so he sighed up for the closest thing to the service available: Delivering telegrams and notices for the Naval Office at Nome Harbor. Though most boys would have felt let down, Star took his job as a gift and prided himself in having never missed a day of work. Always cheerful, he said hello to Balto and Jenna whenever he passed them on the street, but as he stood before him now his face was expressionless. He reached into the pouch he carried slung over his shoulder and pulled out an envelope with the stamp of the Navy all too conspicuous on the front. He held it out and Balto took it.

“Sorry sir,” he whispered as he saluted Balto and walked away. Balto watched him for a minute, and then turned his eyes to the letter in his hand. Rather than take his time, he tore the envelope off and unfolded the message inside. His eyes skimmed over the paper, but he only needed a few words to know what was happening. Balto T. Wolf…report…active duty…0600 hours…February 8th …Admiral Benjamin J. Forester. He shook his head and refolded the letter.

“What is it?” Jenna asked with fear in her voice.

“I’m to report for active duty tomorrow morning.”

“What? But your pass of leave-”

“I know,” Balto soothed, “I’m sure there’s been a mistake at headquarters. I’m going to go talk to Admiral Forester and see what’s going on.” He put his cap back on but turned at the door. “It’ll be okay Jenna, you’ll see. Get some rest. I’ll be back in a while.” Jenna stood in the doorway and watched him go, knowing how rarely the Navy canceled missions because of personal matters.

Later, Jenna paced in the living room, now wearing a red dress her mother had given her. Finally, she sat in one of the two chairs and let her head rest on the back. Not long after, she opened her eyes again at the sound of boots in the snow. She rose from the chair and looked out the front window. This time she saw Balto, but almost wished she hadn’t. His head was low as he walked down the street. In his hand he clutched a crumpled paper marked ORDERS. She met him at the door, a silent question reflecting in her eyes. Balto closed his eyes and sighed.

“My orders…still stand,” he said in a voice that was almost a whisper, “Only now I’m to report to h.q. two hours early. Four hundred hours. We depart tomorrow morning.” He hung his head and walked toward the stairs, but Jenna caught him by the arm.

“Then we better make tonight count.” She walked into the living room and turned on the radio. Balto watched, slightly confused, from the entryway. With a smile, she said,

“We never finished our dance.” Balto approached and she wrapped her arms around him. They danced slowly, never missing a step, savoring what might be their last night together. At the song’s end, Jenna walked back upstairs into their bedroom and Balto eagerly followed. They embraced again and Balto felt tears on his uniform. Looking at Jenna, he said,

“I’m not a captain tonight. Tonight I’m just your husband.” He laid his cap on the table and Jenna pressed her lips to his…

The next morning, Balto walked into the Navy office and saluted to a man in a tan suit and cap.

“Admiral,” he said respectfully.

“Captain Wolf,” the man replied. He dropped his arm and Balto dropped his. “Follow me.” Colonel Forester led Balto to his office and shut the door behind him. “Listen son, I’m sorry to take you away like this. God knows you deserve that week leave more than anyone I know. But you’re the best we got and I need you for this job.”

“I understand, sir,” Balto replied, “Sir, permission to speak?”

“Granted.”

“Sir, May I ask what this ‘job’ is?” Forester walked over to a map of Alaska and the Pacific Ocean. After looking at it for a moment, he sighed and said,

“The Japanese are launching an attack on the Aleutian Islands. Our Marines are holding, but they won’t be able to for much longer. We’ve got reports coming in about air raids and a Japanese fleet and God knows what else. But here,” he pointed at the map of the Aleutians, “on Attu, is where we’re in real deep trouble. They’re overwhelming our Marines and we’ve got no way to get ‘em out thanks to a small Jap fleet here.”

“And that’s where I come in,” Balto said it as a statement, not a question. He couldn’t read minds, but he knew the colonel well and even thought of him as more of a father than his commanding officer, though he’d only told this to Jenna.

“Precisely!” colonel Forester said, “Your job is to find a way around that fleet or bash your way through it and rescue those poor boys. You’ll have Captains Lawrence and Rolland along side you the whole way.”

“Nikki and Bill; what about Kaltag?”

“He’s fallen ill.”

“Oh.”

“Is that all of your questions, Balto?”

“Yes sir.”

“You’re dismissed.” Balto closed the door behind him and a tired MP escorted him out to the docks. As he walked along the wooden gangway, Balto sighed and gazed up at his ship. His destroyer may not be the biggest ship in the Navy, but as far as he was concerned she was the toughest. He’d taken her out in gale force winds and back again. She’d even doubled as an icebreaker for the cargo ships to follow. As he scanned her from bow to stern, he knew the reason for every mark on her hull, but everyone on board knew why the tips of her big cannons