Author's Note:

This is for a school project, which was to write a new POV on the Tom Robinson trial. This character took a life of his own, probably since he was already semi-developed before I started writing. Yes, there is implied slash in this, so if that bothers you then I politely invite you to take a hike. If not, then feedback - whether it be positive or negative - would be greatly appreciated :D

And in case any of you people out there wanna sue me, let me make something abundantly clear: I don't own To Kill a Mockingbird, just the Cannenkelsia twins and Michael Novak. So there. Cancel your appointment with your attorney.

P.S. As far as looks go, the twins are inspired by James Mcavoy, just in case you like having a visual aid when reading like I do.

I watched the beginnings of the trial take place, my gaze darting from the proceedings then back to my notes, scribbling down details to be used in an article. At twenty-three I was one of the youngest reporters for The New York Times, so they sent me to the middle of nowhere to scrounge up an article on some Southern scandal. Figures. Only my third article and I end up in the middle of nowhere. I wasn't a snobby "city boy" as one of the locals had called me, I merely longed for the busy highways and skyscrapers of home. More specifically, I missed The Time Square Building and the bustling chaos of the newsroom.

Reminding myself to focus, I reverted my attention to the trial unfolding before me. I observed the defendant's lawyer, a man starting to show the outskirts of aging, his dark hair graying at the edges. His shoulders were drawn tight and pensive under his clothes, body tense despite his approach, which had been proved confident yet casual by how he'd handled the trial so far. I gave him one more once-over before looking up to the witness stand where a downright rat like looking man was delivering his recount of the events. He hardly spoke with any degree of intelligence, but then he said something that really threw me.

"I seen that black nigger yonder ruttin' on my Mayella!"

The room was thrown into chaos, and I found myself flushing as I scribbled down the words. I was hardly the sex-sensitive prude my twin brother Winser made me out to be, but that was enough to make even the most seasoned of men uncomfortable. When my gaze flicked once more to Tom Robinson's attorney, I saw that his posture had not changed save for him fidgeting and crossing one ankle over the other to mask his discomfort. No one else seemed to notice the miniscule slip of composure. Then again it was so minute that it would have gone unnoticed had I not happened to glance that way at the right time.

One, two, three, four, five.

I winced as Judge Taylor's gavel came down five times, each strike emitting a loud thump that resounded throughout the room and frayed my already anxiety ridden nerves. A colleague of mine found it amusing that a reporter, someone who by all means should be able to handle any setting, had anxiety issues. A rookie, they called me. But somehow despite my easily distraught mind, I did my job well. I supposed that was why they kept me around in the first place.

As the trial continued, I found myself forgetting the one simple rule I had engrained into myself before setting foot in this town: don't get involved. I was just the reporter, but I found myself feeling a pang of sympathy for the unjustly accused Tom. Clearly I'd gotten over involved if I had begun choosing sides. Keep it together, Nixon, I told myself, tucking a lock of wavy brown hair behind my ear. The feel of my hair between my fingers brought back an unpleasant memory, one I tried rather hard to keep concealed.

I walked downstairs, worried by the loud noises I heard coming from the kitchen. Thumps, crashes, and scratching noises had been going on for the past half hour, and finally I decided that it wasn't just a stray raccoon or possum. Winser was the only other one that lived here so I assumed it had to be him making all the racket. However, when I walked into the kitchen, I was unprepared for what I saw.

Winser had someone pinned against the wall by the kitchen table, his mouth bruising the neck of his companion as he worked his way down. I opened my mouth to ask him if he could please keep his affairs to his room, but then a sliver of light came through the window, illuminating his lover's features…very masculine features. The stranger's fingers were wound in the soft locks of Winser's hair. I backed up, trying to convince myself I hadn't just seen that. But logic told me I couldn't deny it. My twin was…good God and Heaven above, my twin was involved with a man.

Ever since it had been the secret that bound us together, closer than ever. He swore me to secrecy last summer when I found him in the kitchen, and though he had spoken with complete arrogance as if certain I would not disobey him, I saw fear sparkling in the depths of his eyes. It was then that I realized my brother was in love. He was scared that if the secret came out that his lover would take the fall for it. So I held my silence. And clearly I wasn't wrong about him having fallen in love, for just over a year later, he was still sneaking around with that same man. Michael Novak.

I suppose that was why my heart went out to Tom Robinson. In his eyes I saw the same fear I'd seen in my brother's, the same gleam of a man being judged merely because he was different. My hand seemed to move on its own accord as I wrote down my thoughts on the trial, carefully eluding what prompted my sympathy towards the defendant. Having only recently discovered my own bisexuality in such a judgmental age, it seemed I was surrounded by secrets everywhere I turned.

By the time the jury returned to give their verdict I was on the edge of my seat, nearly breaking my pen in my clenched hand. I was certain that Atticus Finch had won. I could already see the headline in my mind's eye. Alabama Lawyer Begins The Start of a New Age, by Nixon Cannenkelsia. That was just the working title, of course. I still had writing to do and editing to do and…lord, I'd never been this excited about an article in my life. I smiled as I envisioned the pride my twin would feel for me to have witnessed this, the beginning of something new. He was all about change and freedom, especially since he'd fallen in love with Michael. I thought of how his startlingly blue eyes, identical to my own, would sparkle with pleasure.

Then it was announced that Tom Robinson had been found guilty. I blinked for several moments in shock. How could the jury be so blind? I gaped in shock for a moment before swiftly recovering, my jaw clenching in anger at the world, so scared of standing up for their beliefs. At that moment I wondered if we would ever see a turning point in the universal consensus of narrow mindedness. I seethed, knowing I had to keep a neutral perspective when writing the article but also knowing that deep down, I would always resent every member of this jury for their apparent lack of spines. Perhaps it was unfair, it wasn't as if they had a twin struggling to maintain both a job and a secret lover, nor were they struggling with bisexuality.

But if they could make judgments based on their beliefs, then by God so could I.