A/N: This is my first fic, and I haven't actually read any of the comics with Miles in him… So please let me know if I portrayed him wrong!

Betraying Yourself

Chapter 1: When Innocence Fades

Have you ever been knowledgeable about a subject to such a high extent, but nobody else knows that, and they believe you to be average? Perhaps if you had been playing piano for years, yet you've never had an actual lesson. But when you do have a lesson, the teacher is telling you the difference between the white and black keys? Or maybe if you love playing soccer, but this is the first time you've been on an official team, and the coach is trying to give you different techniques on how to kick the ball? That's me, but my situation is a little more dangerous. I'm a tremendous genius, yet I'm only eleven. How is that a bad thing, you ask? I work for the "do-gooders," as we call ourselves, but I'm afraid that if they found out I was more than an innocent, above-average plane tinkerer who made slightly-useful inventions, they wouldn't accept me. I know that they've told me a million times "We'll always accept you for who you are," but all I can think is what the hell? What if I decided to turn on them and work for Robotnik? What if I decided to murder Robotnik and replace him with just as much tyranny? Would they really accept me then? Imbeciles.

Don't get me wrong, I do love my family, but they're just so damn clueless. I'm in my lab day and night inventing, and they don't bother asking "Hey, Tails, what'd you make?" or "'Sup l'il bro! You make anything last night to kick Robo-butt?" And when they do ask, I show them a wonderfully helpful invention that could help us win the war, and they hardly look at it. They'd rather ask that purple walrus; his intelligence is nowhere near the level of mine. Honestly! I couldn't have been taken in by anyone dumber.

I'll admit, I consider a lot of people dumb, regarding my inhumane IQ—which is one point five times higher than Robotnik's (which is 300, by the way)—but I'm certainly not ungrateful for what Sonic did when I was only eleven months old. But the one thing that amazes me is that I could speak English as flawlessly as a six-year-old could, yet no one questioned my abilities. Alongside that, I have a remarkable memory that no one ever questions either; I remember being born, for God's sake! And believe me, I wish I don't. Having memory of being in a woman's womb and taking thirteen hours to come out certainly isn't the best mental image to make you smile when you're feeling blue. But when I am feeling down (which is certainly most of my life), I just think of how kind my big brother and aunts have been to me for the past nine years, and realize I have to keep up this pseudo-Tails act to protect them at all costs. Who would've thought, right? Sonic and Sally and the other freedom fighters have been my safeguard for years, and yet I've been protecting them since I was four. That's when I made my first invention.

I remember the day Sonic jumped off of the Knothole slide into the monstrous pile of hay and told us all about a chaos emerald. The lustrous, shimmering beauty of the gem, and how much power it bestowed. I just knew that if we had one, just one, of those on our side, we could win the war and be free from Robotnik's reign in a heartbeat. So when Sonic put me to bed in our hut, I tip-toed over to my dresser and pulled out the paper and crayons I had taken from the big city just the other day. I had simply wanted to draw what I thought a chaos emerald looked like, but before I knew it, there were complicated formulas and steps for a freaking invention on my page. Later that night, around eleven, when I knew everyone was asleep, I stole across Knothole and opened the unlocked metal door of Rotor's lab/warehouse. I knew Rotor had his own hut, so if I was quiet and used a faint light to see my work, I wouldn't be caught.

I worked all night on that invention; setting and cutting wires, installing circuit boards, and making use of any materials I could find in Rotor's warehouse. After six and a half hours of hard work and no breaks, I nearly finished. The only problem was, I didn't have anything for the machine to track. So after thinking as much more as my little head could muster, I ran into my and Sonic's hut, and quietly took a power ring out of his backpack.

I hope Sonic'll forgive me… I thought. After an hour and a half more of separating particles and placing them into the main port in my device, I turned it on and immediately saw seven little blinking dots on the screen. In my excitement, I forgot I was supposed to keep quiet.

"Sonic! Sonic! I did it! I know where all the chaos emeralds are!" I scampered to the door, and hopped out as soon as Rotor opened it with a stunned look on his face.

I saw Sonic throw a disbelieving glance at Aunt Sally, but that was good! That way I could surprise them with what I had done!

"Alright, big guy, show me whatcha got," Sonic said, kneeling down and ruffling my fringe.

I playfully swatted his hand away, saying "Hey, quit it!" with a smile. Regaining my composure, I said, "I was up all night working on this, but I finished! I made a tracker and we can find all the chaos emeralds with it!"

"Tails, do you mind if I look at that?" Upon hearing a new voice, I whirled around, and looked up at the mechanic of Knothole.

"Sure, Uncle Rotor! I worked super hard on it!" I handed him my device, and I saw him play with the buttons, and open up the back, staring at all my work.

"You sure you did this, little guy?"

"Mmhm!" It was hard to tell if he was impressed or not; his face was so… Indifferent.

By now, all the Knothole residents had gathered around, and were waiting impatiently for what Rotor would say next.

Rotor slowly took his eyes off my invention and stared at Sonic, who rose from his spot on the ground at a rather sluggish pace, and said, "Sonic… I think you've been raising a genius."

That was my proudest moment, and it always will be. Because that was the day that Sonic found out he could use the chaos emeralds to our advantage. As I had discovered, Uncle Chuck's power rings (designed specifically for Sonic) were created with chaos energy, so Sonic had the ability to harness the gems' power. And that was all because of me. For all we know, if I hadn't done that, we'd still be in war and Sonic would never have used the emeralds to save our lives; hell, if I hadn't done that, we might all be dead by now.

As rewarding as that moment makes me feel, I can never seem to shake the feeling that that was the day of my downfall. The day my innocence began to fade and I became a whole new Tails on the inside. I had matured so much, I began to call myself 'Miles' when I scolded myself for doing something unspeakably dense. However that habit quickly tarnished after the incident with Miles on Moebius.

Ah, yes, Miles. That boy is a piece of shit, let me tell you. Yes, he may be my anti, but as many people don't know, our anti's aren't our complete opposites in everything. As you may know, Scourge is cocky and runs at sonic speeds. Rosy is positively mad, but so is Amy—Amy is simply better at hiding it. And Miles? Oh, dear, evil, fucking Miles. He has the exact same level of intelligence that I do, but the reason he's my opposite is because he uses his brain to help the anti's—the villains—and I use my brain to help the freedom fighters, the heroes. But there was one time I allowed Miles to use me for his malevolent purposes. And I can never get that three-day period out of my head, no matter what I do. I just know he's going to use it against me someday, somehow—and that someday is going to be soon.

Do you remember my implausible memory? Well, I've been trying to delete this memory (I'll let you know in a few decades when that happens), yet I still recall every last detail. The Freedom Fighters were on Moebius, looking for Scourge for some cruel prank he pulled. We had all split up, and I had been in the forest by myself when I heard a rustle coming from a tree, and it had been too loud to be a squirrel. I had snapped my head up, and saw a devious face and a gray-haired head, and had sighed. I had told Miles to come down, and to stop spying on me.

I remember the smell of the wildflowers nearby; I remember how he had jumped out of the tree using his tails to land softly and barely make a sound; I remember him circling around me, telling me I was "too smart for those goons," and that I needed a partner who shared my genius. He had known I was hiding who I was, and he had whispered it wasn't good for me to keep all of my intelligence inside my "cranium.". While rubbing his temple, he had said in a drawn out, bored tone, that we were both "surrounded by idiots." Sure, Rotor and Boomer were smart, but nowhere near as smart as us. And you know what? I couldn't take it. I couldn't take the stench of his breath, which smelled like bland lettuce, as if he ate salad without dressing. I couldn't take his strange sexual intimidation.

And I simply couldn't take it because I knew he was right.

He had suggested (more like ordered) that I should just ditch the search for Scourge, and we could go in his underground lab; work on countless projects each day, and I could defeat Robotnik and take his place as ruler, and allow Sonic and the others to share a few inches of my glory. He had grabbed my wrist, and dragged me a few miles to his hiding spot, where his so-called "underground lab" was—just like Knothole, a tree stump that led to a hiding spot. However, instead of a fun, enjoyable slide, it was a straight-down drop. Miles had explained his method like so: "I can utilize my tails to glide down and make a soft landing; however, if some other goon attempts to infiltrate my covert territory, they shall simply shatter every bone in their body, and immediately cease to exist." I had mentally thrown up.

I had been in awe—no, I was horrified—at all of his inventions. There had been mind controlling devices, dissecting tables and tools, strange beeps and hums from some large, lethal-looking machine that had too many buttons and sharp tools to count, and mechanisms that looked as if they could take away your soul; the list goes on.

He had only explained one machine to me: "This is my mind-reading instrument," he had explained as his finger had pointed to miniscule remote with three buttons—grey, greyer, and greyest— which was wired to a rather large-scale screen. With a flick of a switch, the screen came to life. "Mind reading requires actual brain particles, however, so I tricked Scourge into thinking he had a mental disease and he needed brain surgery." A devious smirk had replaced his previous dead-pan face. "I took a few small units from his unhealthily small brain over there on my dissecting table, and—"

"Hey, it's not nice to make fun of people with mental diseases!" I had indignantly interrupted with a pout on my face.

Miles had snapped a wire to my head with a small electric shock to which I had replied with an angry "Hey!" and pushed the grey button. An image of Sonic on his knees in a white padded room, screaming and tears streaking down his face had appeared on the screen."Ah, yes. You're heroic friend; your big brother," he had mocked. "Well, I suppose it was just a matter of time before his mechanized sex-partner broke through his fragile skull and shredded him apart."

Wait, what? "Who the hell are you calling sex partner? Sonic loves Sally, and he's like that because he couldn't save her from being roboticized! What the hell is your problem?" I had fumed.

Just another sickening smirk. "Well, correct me if I'm wrong, but they did have a child at fourteen, no?"

A menacing grimace. "That's none of your damn business."

"Hmm, feisty, are we? That's certainly how you make the best inventions. Anger gives you the greatest inspiration."

I had decided right then and there that I was leaving. "I'm out of here. You're a sick bastard."

Eyebrows slightly raised, he had just stood there silently. And then burst into the most nauseating laugh that could make any grown man cry. "You posses no choice! Who do you think I am, Scourge? Think again, fox boy."

Eye twitch. "You do realize you're a fox boy as well." It hadn't been a question.

"Yes, however, I am not seen as a fox boy. I am viewed as an evil genius, attempting with near-success to overthrow our king, a dim-witted soul with particles of his brain missing. You, however," he had sneered with obvious contempt, "have displayed yourself as an innocent boy who has a strange, over-obsession with planes and tinkering with random objects. No one honestly understands your true power, including you as well. You need to harness your intelligence and employ it for what you were given it for. Robotnik is a genius; he took over the world. I'm a genius; I am in the process of achieving the same goal. And I am only eleven years of age."

"So? I'm on the good side, and I always will be. Nothing you say will change my mind."

He had started to advance towards me, which had forced me to retreat. "Oh, but I already have. Your mind is made up; you're just too stubborn to admit it." Another step forward; another one back. "Be on my side; no one has to know. Just arrive at night when everyone is sleeping and your beloved brother is in his special padded room." Two more steps. "Help me with my schemes, my plans. And you shall rule by my side." By that time I had been up against the wall with him whispering in my ear again.

That had been the last straw. I had shoved him off of me, with the words, "If you stop doing that, I'll do what you want! I'll help you, whatever you need, just stop that!"

Another revolting smile, his fangs presenting themselves through his colorless lips. "Perfect."

The next three nights after that, I would travel to his lab through the portal he created in his lab with the chaos emeralds. He would simply snap the wire to my head with the same small shock, and read all of my thoughts—every last secret and weakness of the freedom fighters and Mobius. I felt terrible, but every time I tried to flee, he would grab my wrist and strap me down, whispering in my ear; that boy certainly knows how to frighten you down to your core.

On the fourth night, however, when I walked to my usual spot in the Great Forest where the portal had been recently, nothing was there. I impatiently lingered by the blackberry bush until four in the morning, afraid he would hurt my family if I didn't go. But when no entryway appeared, I trudged home and slept until eleven, much later than my usual seven o'clock. Every single night after that until now, a portal has yet to open in my presence to take me to the anti planet.

Words, actions, thoughts, and feelings will never describe how terrible I feel. I caved to one on the dire side for my own selfish reasons. I was perfectly content with using my knowledge here, without anyone knowing the true extent of it; then Miles got into my head—more like into my personal space, mind you. And it makes me feel sick, as though I've been looking down from a one-hundred foot cliff for hours. It's the feeling of vertigo and nausea you get when you ride a roller coaster and you haven't in years. I have actually regurgitated my lunch on several occasions. I've passed it off as the flu a few times, claiming my family is prone to obtaining the sickness; but when Miles recalls what happens, it's dooms-day for me.

There's another rather important detail I believe I forgot to mention. On the fourth night, I did wait for a portal until four o' clock; however, I didn't return home until five. I used one of Miles's own devices against him; the"Mind-Eraser" (You know, for a genius, he certainly doesn't have a very vivid imagination). The problem? He had made himself immune to his inventions' side effects. But seeing as it doesn't take an hour to press a button, I had to tinker with it for a little while. But he caught me before I was finished. So he remembers that he used to know valuable information to use against specific Mobians, he just hasn't retrieved it from the back of his mind, yet. I suppose I could tell you the whole story, about what he did during those three nights, and what I managed to make happen. However, it's getting rather late; I'll have to put my inventions in their shelves and shuffle up to bed; I can barely keep my eyes open. The tale will have to wait until tomorrow, when I can recall enough details to give you the full story—but hopefully not enough to make my breakfast come up. Good night—I hope yours will be better than mine.

A/N: I can't believe I made this over 3,000 words! (3,087, excluding this) I haven't written anything in a long time, considering I'm pretty sure my English class was more like a drama class this previous year… But English has always been my strong suit, and I've always been the one where the teachers are like "She's an amazing writer!" But that kinda stopped in middle school when the teachers got lazy and stopped caring. -.- So please no flaming, I don't flame people and if you're an anonymous reviewer, I can delete your review. So ha;) And this is a chapter fic, so don't think I'm leaving it off there. Because I hate it when people do that. It really sucks. And can someone tell me if I used the word implausible right? Thanks.

Chapter 2: When Strength Fades