Author's Note: Hey all. It's been a while since I've written anything lengthy for this fandom (or at all). I've been neglecting my urge to write for such a long time and I don't know why. I've been itching to get back into it and now that my passion for the KND has been reignited, I decided that I would try to get some words out for fun. And fun this has been! I've been wanting to do this story for a long time. This is, essentially, a reboot of one of my old (and terrible) stories, Operation: FADING, which was first published in 2010 and last updated in 2011. It was never completed because I lost passion for it. I feel like this take on the story is a bit more realistic, as I've changed some aspects of the plot (like Wally's age, for one example) and I'm hoping that you guys can forgive me for never finishing the old one. It's been such a long time that I'm not sure any of those readers are still around, but regardless I hope that someone can find this story interesting and enjoyable.

Fair warning, this story is going to be dark and mature. It deals with things that some may find triggering, such as (physical/emotional) abuse and suicidal ideation/actions/general self-damaging behavior. The story will chronicle a year in Wally's teenage life (from the age of 15 to 16) as he struggles through the difficulties of high school, of a fragile family life, and with his subsequent depression. All members of Sector V will be featured, and I'm going to try to get these chapters up as quickly as I can, though I make no promises about when that will be. Fun fact: when I read this chapter over to myself, I imagined it being narrated like a Wes Anderson film. Maybe that's just me trying to be too artsy. If you like where this is going or have any questions/suggestions, do let me know! Now I'm going to go rest my fingers and eyes and recover from hunching over my laptop for so long. Happy reading!

Disclaimer: The KND belong to Mr. Warburton, and rightfully so. I also don't own Frozen, but want to. Badly.

It was a Tuesday when Wally decided to kill himself. He'd gotten the idea suddenly, while sitting in the back of his family's station wagon. On that particular February day the sky had been clouded over and the air had a distinct chill to it; one that left his very core feeling iced and empty. Wally had always found himself fond of the winter. He enjoyed the prospect of bundling up in layers upon layer. He liked watching Christmas movies with his mother and liked drinking hot chocolate with his father. He liked tossing snowball after snowball at the head of his younger brother, who sometimes enjoyed the engagement of winter warfare, and who other times screamed as if he had been shot with a real bullet, and not just a block of ice. He even liked the sounds and sights and smells of the local mall during the holiday season. The shopping center always seemed to be full of frantic spenders. People who had, yet another year, waited until the very last moment to do their Christmas shopping. Wally liked how noisy and crowded the stores had become. He enjoyed watching people scramble, and he enjoyed the shiny things he found scattered upon every wall. It was his favorite time of year and his favorite season.

He'd watched Frozen for quite possibly the 12th time that week, which left him pondering how he related so much to the storyline of a children's animated musical film. Sometimes Wally felt like he was misunderstood, not just by his family but by everyone around him. The first time he'd watched the film, he rated it a measly 5/10 stars. He liked reviewing movies he watched, even though no one else seemed to show much interest in his opinions. Joey told him it was the best movie in the universe, something that Wally seriously doubted. Later, after probably the fourth viewing, Wally wondered how he could have been so misguided. He would never admit that he had grown extremely fond of the film, not even to himself. He put on his usual mask of indifference whenever the topic came up in conversations, though inside he struggled to hear much other than those infectious tunes. At home, Joey insisted on playing the movie nearly every day that passed. Wally always seemed irritated by this initially, but despite his groans would sit and watch it the entire way through without saying much other than "this is the last time I'm watching this with you, Joe." It never was the last time.

Wally felt like he understood the turmoil that the sisters in the flick had gone through, particularly Elsa, the ice queen. She had closed herself off for so long that she found it hard to open up to others, even her family. When she finally revealed her true self, the others judged and failed to understand. Wally felt that he and Elsa were very similar in those aspects. Though he lacked magical ice powers, he did have a knack for hiding within himself. It wasn't often he showed people what he was really feeling or thinking. Half the time the Australian seriously considered the idea that nobody knew who he really was. Not even his best friends, or his mother. Though they knew a lot about the person he was, he spent a vast majority of time holding up a façade; one weak yet somehow stable enough to fool everyone who looked at it. On the outside, they'd see a tall building (brick? no, maybe concrete, or steel) with a solid foundation, a fresh coat of paint, and not very many windows. The few windows that were there were guarded by bulky men and rabid dogs, none of who would let another soul near at any cost. If one were to look into the windows, they would find that the building wasn't nearly as extravagant and dense as it appeared. Within, the confines were rather weak and empty, and the floorboards seemed to be held together with nothing but chewed gum and some distant hope. Inside, Wally felt like the inside of a bruised banana. On the outside, his skin was so thick and so yellow nobody could really tell the damage was there. Not unless they poked and prodded enough, but then again not many people were interested in poking and prodding bananas.

And, much like Elsa, Wally didn't seem to be quite as affected by the frigid temperatures as the rest of his family. His parents, though themselves fond of the holiday season, seemed to detest the inconvenience that was Ohio's winters. In Australia, Christmas was celebrated in the summertime, when the sky was clear and the sun was smiling down on them like an old and cheery friend. Wally moved to America when he was just shy of his 10th birthday so, though he had some vague memories of holidays past, he was rather accustomed to the harsh and long winters of the midwest. Joey, who had lived in Cleveland since before he could talk, didn't know to expect anything different. The brothers both had adapted quite well to the climate and typically looked forward to waking to blankets of white. It had snowed the night before, leaving the neighborhood vacant and quiet. Their father cursed under his breath as he scraped the ice from the windows, making sure to drive careful when they set off in the direction of school (and in his case, work). Though Wally found the sight of a fresh blanket of snow covering his side of the city beautiful, he found that for the first time in forever he was unimpressed. Awakening to the blinding sight from his window did not excite him. When he'd put his winter coat on, he was left feeling unsatisfied and uncharacteristically cold.

Finding himself with a rather weak appetite that morning, he settled for a glass of orange juice and a piece of crust from Joey's toast. He assured his mother that he would eat something later at school when he grew hungrier and ignored her look of confusion and maternal concern. He leaned over to kiss her goodbye, to tell her that he loved her too, and joined six year old Joey in the car that his father had just finished digging out of the snow. There he sat, watching the fingers of his father snake around a switch upon the dashboard. A moment later, a warmth started to fill the vehicle. It seemed to move around him but never seemed to really reach him well enough for him to taste the effect. Joey, who had raced to get the front seat, twisted his spine to peer back at his older brother. Wally could see his mouth moving but the sounds that came out were distorted, as if playing on a radio with a bad signal. He said nothing in return and yet the child continued on, unfazed by the lack of response. Wally momentarily wondered why Joey was like that, but the thought passed him just as quick as it came. He turned his head, and with it the radio station, and stared out at the desolate street.

It was the moment that his father called his name for the third that Wally decided to kill himself. Shaken out of his quiet thoughts, he met his father's eyes in the rear view mirror. Again, he was asked a question. He stole a glance at the digital clock on the dash and noted it was 7:42 AM. The image of his neighbor's frozen mailbox remained in his head even as he spoke.

"Hmm? Oh. Yeah, I can do that."

Afterwards, he returned his longing gaze to the window and tried to forget that he wasn't alone with himself. He let his eyes, deep pools of green, linger over every corner, every shape that they spotted outside. He took careful attention to the way the trees stood tall, the way their branches were sprinkled with sweet powdered sugar, sometimes so thick and so heavily that they were weighted down, threatening to collapse beneath the weight of the powder at any given moment. For a moment he considered he was nothing more than a tree, weighted down by the heaviness of the world around him. He felt it would be nice to have some French toast come next morning, to drizzle the slices with syrup and powdered sugar. He would dust the bread with as much white as he could, wondering how far he could take it before the toast suddenly disappeared beneath the weight of the powder. Wally wondered what it would feel like to disappear. At 7:44 AM he decided he would find out.

The decision came so easily and so naturally that he did not stop to consider how silly it was. Satisfied with the thought that had randomly plagued him, he let out a near silent breath and found himself bemused by the way the seconds seemed to be ticking by excruciatingly slow. He realized that the day had presented itself much like any other day before that and that, as far as mornings went, his was going along rather smoothly. Joey failed to have another meltdown and his parents didn't waste even a single breath arguing, something that should have surprised him, considering their relationship consisted mostly of fighting and sex. Wally could swear his mother and father hated each other, and likely only remained married for the sake of their children, and for the sake of not having to deal with the financial and emotional expenses of separation. One night Wally's father had stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him so loud that his bedroom shook. He was gone for the weekend, heaven knows where, but returned as usual, pretending that nothing had ever happened. Wally hadn't dared to ask why, afraid of knowing the answer. That night he heard his parents in their bedroom as he crept down the hall to retrieve a glass of water, Joey fast asleep in the other room. He heard the sounds of hushed whispers. There was no mistaking the sound of the weathered mattress springs, of the bed frame hitting the wall. His mother released a strangled moan that left him feeling hollow and horrified for many reasons. He hurried back to bed and occupied his mind with The Simpsons' season 8 DVD. He struggled to sleep that night, and many nights to follow.

Some time after the incident where his father vanished for the weekend, Wally's mother revealed she was pregnant and was expecting another child in June. He did his best to feign excitement but found it much too difficult to. Upset at the news, he told his mother he was sleeping over at Hoagie's house. He didn't allow himself very much chance to pack and prepare for the sudden trip, even forgetting a toothbrush and a change of clothes. He grabbed his phone charger and wallet, wrestled the keys from Joey, and left. He had to bite his lip so hard on the way over to his best friend's home that he could taste blood in his mouth, though it was all he could do to keep his composure and not collapse into a puddle of goo on the walk throughout the neighborhood.

It wasn't that Wally resented the idea of extending the family. In fact, the idea would have delighted him had it not been for the fact that his family was on the brink of falling apart at any given moment. His parents could hardly stand to be in the same room with one another, aside from the times when they were keeping him up at odd hours of the night, unclothed and one glass of wine too far gone. His mother was prone to outbursts and spent half of her day yelling at her sons for things need not be yelled for. Once she accused Wally of stealing money from her purse, which he rightfully denied considering he hadn't. Outraged by the thought and by the way he refused to admit to the unjust crime, she struck him across the face. She apologized a moment later, sorry for having lost control of her anger. Wally loved his mother dearly and knew that she was not a bad person. She showed so much care for him, and especially Joey, over the years that there wasn't a single cell in his body that was foolish enough to question her love for even a second. Still, as a mother she lacked general compassion and patience, something that troubled him more because of Joey and less because of himself. Wally had developed a thick skin and a hard shell early on and learned to deal with the way he was treated on a daily basis, but he worried endlessly for his brother, who was still young and unnaturally sensitive.

Joey had always been a bit of an odd child. At times he would talk and talk and talk for hours on end, tongue moving so fast that sometimes he stumbled over his own words as if he physically could not keep up with his brain. He struggled with gauging other people's interests in his winded conversations and failed to recognize when his spiels were detested until he was being silenced with a light smack at the back of the head or a shout. He often fixated on specific topics, like toy trains and cartoons and especially insects. Joey had been obsessed with entomology for three years and would sometimes become so enthralled in his ant farms and encyclopedias that he would enter his own little world, tuning out the sounds of anything and everyone around him for what could stretch on for hours. As well, he seemed to lack a mental filter, not unlike his brother and parents. It got him into a lot of trouble, something that Wally could relate to often, though sometimes Joey seemed to blatantly disregard the existence of other people's feelings in whole, though it never appeared to be purposely. On countless occasions Wally had sat with the fragile boy and tried to explain why he needed to be careful and polite, but Joey never could really seem to understand this on a deeper level.

When Joey was upset, which was quite often and quite often for vague reasons, he would shut down or explode. At times he would have horrible meltdowns that lasted hours, sometimes at home and sometimes in public places. Once he had missed the bus because Wally had woken late that morning and had failed to get him there on time and screamed loud enough to acquire curious stares. Embarrassed and angry, Wally had tried to calm the child down, but at moments like those Joey seemed virtually inconsolable. Others often judged him for being so grown and still throwing tantrums, and figured he was a kid who had been spoiled rotten by pushover parents. Wally knew this had very little to do with Joey's upbringing and more so on the fact that something had never really felt right with him. As his older brother, Wally made it his job to look after the boy, especially when the strain on their parents' relationship affected the way his parents behaved. His family had always been slightly dysfunctional, but close. Within the past year the comforts of home had deteriorated into nothing but a distant memory, and Wally spent more and more time out with his friends than with his relatives, wanting to shield himself from the stress of the crumbling household. Still, he invested a large part of himself in Joey, doing his best to protect the young boy from the horror that was the Beetles family.

With his mother tense and unstable and ruling the house, and his younger brother troubled, Wally didn't understand how anyone could see his mother being pregnant as a positive thing. His father was hardly around, always at work, always somewhere. Their conversations were short and forced, and though he could tell that his father was conflicted and hurting, Wally resented him for his absence. The family had always been somewhat tight with money, as well, and having another mouth to feed seemed inconvenient and troublesome. At times, when their father had gotten fewer hours of work scheduled, they would struggle to provide for their dog, Saint, who was a sweet and caring lab with a massive appetite and an even more insatiable desire to chew through socks.

On the verge of their parents' fall out and everything, Wally did not understand why his parents hadn't been more careful. He'd known for many years that he and Joey had become because of "happy accidents", as their parents had explained ("why, you boys were the best mistake I ever made!"). He never doubted the fact that his parents wanted him, or Joey, even if they had come at surprising times. Still, the last thing this family needed was a new baby in the house and Wally felt disappointed in his mother and father for letting something like this happen. He didn't want the child to come into his home and suffer the same demise as he and Joey, though he felt that his mother had embraced the idea of another infant simply because it was a final hope for her relationship with her husband. Perhaps all they needed was another child to bring them closer together. Wally knew this would not fix all the flaws in their relationship, but he was too smart to verbalize this at the risk of being reprimanded for it. Instead, he tried to push the thought out of his mind for the time being. At first it was easy to avoid the realization, to pretend that it had been made up. But once his mother started to gain weight and her belly began to grow, it became too hard to ignore.

Though he typically had a distaste for school, Wally found himself relieved when he was in class and away from his mother. Despite this, he often struggled to focus on what was being taught and usually found his eyes wandering from the chalkboard before he even realized it. He hardly put much effort into taking notes on lectures and studying for exams was something he only pretended to do to get Joey out of his room. His grades suffered throughout his educational career, and in sixth grade he had been referred to a specialist after causing repeated distractions in class. The therapist diagnosed him with ADHD, which explained why he always found it hard to pay attention and sit still when he needed to, or wanted to. Though relieved to know that it wasn't his fault that he was like this, Wally had felt a bit down after the diagnosis, feeling that something had been wrong with him. His mother refused to put him on medication, which he refused to take, and had special arrangements made at school to help him stay on track. It helped a little, and his grades improved considerably the remainder of the school year, and when he'd moved onto junior high. For a while Wally began to apply himself, not wanting to disappoint anyone and not wanting to let his ADHD get the best of him. It wasn't until things started to get rough at home that his motivation began to falter slightly, and with it his GPA.

Now a freshman in high school, Wally could find very little in himself to even show up for homeroom and history and even P.E.. He liked the fact that he was busy and away from home, but much of the time his mind was distracted by his thoughts. Sometimes he felt so stressed that his heart would race as he walked towards class. Sometimes, for reasons he didn't know, he would suddenly feel ill. A few times he'd hid himself in a bathroom stall, willing himself not to pass out or cry. Wally wasn't someone who cried often, and rarely in front of others, but lately he felt his strong exterior cracking, threatening to cave in on him and bury him alive. He told himself he was just overwhelmed with high school and the news of the new baby. He stayed away from home as often as he could, making it hard for his mother to notice this change. At times she noticed he wasn't eating as much as he typically did, but he usually shrugged it off with an excuse and left, finding that he could no longer stand to look at her or his father.

On that Tuesday in February, Wally arrived to school seven minutes before the bell. His father had been careful and slow as he drove Joey to kindergarten. He left Wally at the high school with an "alright, see you later, son" and disappeared down the street. Wally stood and watched the car grow smaller and smaller as it vanished from sight, waiting until he struggled to imagine it even in his own head before he turned and made his way to class. At 8 AM sharp the bell rung and Wally took a seat in a chair near the windows. He raised a hand and responded "here" when his name was called for attendance and gave the instructor eye contact and his undivided attention for a whole two minutes before he began to doodle in his notebook. He drew trees and french toast, both drowned and weighted down by the incomprehensible density of white.