So, Chapter one!

If you all hadn't gathered the prologue's murder has nothing to do with the plot, it was more of a look into Logan's job before... stuff... happened...

Thanks to every one who took time to review, hope you guys like this chapter.

Enjoy!

Kendall Knight strolled into his boss's office the day after, a huge grin on his face. Him and his partner in crime, Logan Mitchell have both managed to be the only reporters to bring in a clear story about the murder of the music producer, George Hawk, and his son in their house. Thanks to Logan's outstanding takes, this gave them a huge push forward as no other photographer managed to get such good shots of the maniac who had opened fire on the cops and reporters.

"Have you seen today's issue?"

He asked his boss, Arthur Griffin, already knowing his answer.

"Of course, I did! Everybody did!" The white haired man replied, his grin stretching from ear to ear; "The photos attached are absolutely brilliant! How he managed to get those is beyond me!"

"I know." Kendall grinned, having been partners with Logan for over two years; he had grown accustomed to the brunette's quietness and dedication to work; which both have reflected greatly on his career; "I could've sworn he's psychic."

"And where's my man of the hour?" Griffin asked; "I thought I told you to bring him with?"

"I have been calling him all morning." The blonde replied; "he hasn't picked up."

"Call him again." The boss replied; "You both are getting a raise!"

The young reporter couldn't wipe the smile off of his face as he speed dialed his partner again.

Logan Mitchell groaned as he heard his unmistakable ringtone blare. He reached into his pants pocket, wondering why the hell he was still in his tight jeans from the day before. He was pretty sure that he and Kendall had raced back to their editor's house and had somehow convinced him to take out one of the articles of today's issue and replace it with their own. When he walked into his home just after six in the morning; he was ecstatic him and Kendall managed to pull it off.

He looked at his phone, seeing Kendall's name flashing. The dim light of his phone had suddenly made him aware of the dull pain in the back of his head. Never more thankful for closing all the blinds before bed, Logan pressed the silent button, his head pounding so hard.

Logan reached to rub his forehead gently, his mind finally clearing up; enough to realize that he wasn't even in his bed.

The next thing he realized was that he was lying in a pool of blood.

The brunette sat up slowly, a sigh of relief escaping him when he realized that aside from the pain in his head he was perfectly fine. The relief, however, died short when he looked behind him to see the blood-drenched body of his own wife.

Logan crawled toward Camille's body, his hands ghosting over her dried blood and getting cut on the shreds of a broken vase. Her name was escaping his lips in a broken plea as he reached her. He refrained himself from touching her body, picking his phone to call nine-one-one.

As he frantically talked to the operator, his eyes wondered back to his wife's body, watching the black duck tape that was covering her eyes.

Oh, how he wished he could look into those eyes again…

One Year Later…

"Those are a sample of three hundred pictures taken by Logan Mitchell." Kendall turned on the lights using the remote in his hands and moved to stand in front of the conference table, facing his bosses; "He saw in them some meaning or feeling and wrote his opinion and idea under them and gathered them all to hopefully be a book. What's really fascinating about those photos is that, as you have seen during the presentation and from the samples," He gestured behind him; "is that all those photos were not staged or edited whatsoever."

Minutes later, Kendall was standing outside of the conference room, waiting for his boss to inform him of whether they liked the book idea or not.

A few months after Camille's murder, Kendall left his job in the news paper and was now working for a publishing company and owned his own printing house. He was tired of being Logan's partner, especially when the latter lost his interest in his job so he quit. A month later, Logan had called him about the book and he was excited for his depressed friend that he finally found something to get him out of his miserable state.

"I need you to bring me that book and photographer so we can write the contracts." He jolted up when he heard his boss's voice.

"They agreed?"

"Of course." The older man nodded; "Why wouldn't they? I mean, Logan Mitchell is a really well-known photographer and the book proposal was very convincing. So bring them in, tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Kendall's smile fell.

"Yeah. What would be the problem with that?" The boss asked; "I thought the book was already done."

"It is! It is." Kendall replied; "We're just missing the last couple ones, he's still working on finding the perfect shots. Just give us one month; that's all I ask."

"A month?" The man repeated; "That's not gonna happen. You have two weeks at most, Knight, make it happen."

Logan studied the photo in his hands, tracing the frame with his finger. He was thinking about the day this photo was taken. It was back when Camille and him were still engaged and he thought he should break her stress of preparing for their wedding by taking her on a safari trip. It had worked well; he can see it in the wide grin she had on her face as she held on to him from behind while he worked the camera with one hand.

A knock on the door jolted him out of his thoughts.

"Come in, it's open." He shouted. He discarded the photo in a box, among other photos that were stacked in it neatly and proceeded to take down the other frames off the wall.

"Why the hell is your door open?" Kendall asked as he walked into the living room, he took a look around and turned to Logan; "And what the hell are you doing? You're moving?"

The brunette shook his head and took off the biggest frame, which was an almost real-sized picture of Camille; "Just redecorating." He carried the heavy frame and made his way to the basement, the blonde trailing behind him.

"Look, I just finished the meeting." Kendall informed him; "They want the book, but they want it fast."

"Deadline?"

"Two weeks." Kendall said, opening the basement door for Logan; "One day later and the deal is cancelled, they won't buy it."

"They don't have to, then, screw them."

"Are you nuts?" The blonde reasoned; "We're lucky you're known and we're lucky they said yes, otherwise, this wouldn't have worked out!"

"They said yes to the money I want?" Logan asked as he said the frame down and moved to leave the basement, he turned to the blonde to see his eyes lingering sadly on the frame; "Ken, did they say yes?"

"Yeah, they said yes." Kendall followed the photographer out; "What are we missing from the book, again?"

"One final photo."

"You need to get it fast." Kendall told him; "You quit your job right after Camille's death and you're running out of money. If we don't get this deal and if this book doesn't sell, you're done. You'll have to sell this house or something and you'll still spend all the money and then what? Broke again."

Logan nodded; "I'll figure something out."

Logan sat in the subway, pressing every single button on his new camera in frustration. He'd just bought it a few hours ago and was walking around, desperately trying to find anything for the last picture in his book. He looked up for a second, noticing the old man in torn clothes who kept eyeing him.

Next thing he knew was the man standing up from his place and sitting beside him.

"I don't really like those new cameras." The man said as he reached for the camera.

"Excuse me." Logan said as he wrapped the camera's strap around his hand, pulling it away from the man's reach. "Let go."

The man ignored Logan's demand; "They just claim they have the best cameras, something about technology, which I honestly don't get." He reached into his clothes, pulling out a pin that was holding the side pocket to the jacket he was wearing clumsily and reached for Logan's hand that was holding the camera. He used the pin to poke around between the buttons while the camera still rested in the brunette's hand; "Go ahead. Turn it on."

Logan pushed the button doubtfully, turning to look at the man in surprise when it actually worked; "How did you-"

"Don't you want a real camera?" The man asked, leaning back in his seat; "I have a beautiful old one. Cameras are like our own eyes, sir. The older it gets, the more experienced it is. This new crap they sell as cameras are just total bullshit. A Daguerreotype camera, one of the first portable cameras ever, back in eighteen-thirty-one ."

"Do you even know anything about cameras in that era?" Logan chuckled, not believing him; "Big, bulky cameras that need a shit load of time to prepare them for a shot."

"Do you even want to know the story behind this beautiful antique?"

Logan looked around him when the subway came to a stop, noticing he'd actually missed his stop. He sighed and turned to the old stranger; "Humor me."

"I will." The man leaned back in his seat; "Back in the eighteen-hundreds a rich countess lived in New York. Her son, Ned was crazy about photography. After his mother's death, he spent all her money left and right, trying to find a camera that's he can go around with, that doesn't need much to work, you know? Anyway, it took him six years to find someone who'd make the camera for him. In eighteen-thirty-one, he finally got what he wanted and this camera was pretty much all he had. But it was worth it; the camera was truly one of a kind. Ned even asked in his will that the camera would be buried with him."

"If that's true, how did it end up with you?"

"A few men robbed Ned's tomb a few years back, thinking there's be more besides the camera there. But there wasn't and the camera ended up with a history teacher, the one who had documented all what I'm telling you about this camera." The man leaned in towards Logan and said; "He also advised that, whoever has the camera; should never use it at all. Something about a curse, I'm not sure. But it would be great to have that piece in a collection, am I right?"

Logan jolted up in his bed when he felt a hand sneak up around his waist, hugging him from behind. He sat up in bed, looking beside him at the place his wife used to occupy every night, his chest heaving as he tried to regain his breath, trying not to think about his dream anymore; he hated the past. He ran a hand through his messy hair, and snapped his head towards his room door.

He jumped out of bed and picked up a pair of pants and a shirt, hurrying down the stairs towards the front door. The bell rang just before he reached it and he yanked the door open, looking at the fifty-something year old woman standing before him.

"Sorry, I was getting dressed." He apologized.

"I just came." The woman replied: "Can I?"

"Right." He said and stood aside, letting her in and closing the door behind her.

The woman walked into the house, to the living room. She stopped mid-step when she noticed the boxes full of picture frames of Logan, Camille and their friends. She addressed him as she moved to the living room; "You're moving?" she asked as she sat down on the couch.

"Redecorating." He gave the same he gave Kendall just the day before.

She nodded; "Sorry that I bothered you, coming here without telling you first. I don't have your phone number." He sat down on the arm-chair beside her; "How's the house after… you know…"

"How is the house?" He repeated; "I'm sorry?"

"I mean, are you happy in it?" She asked; "I actually came here to try and buy it back from you, I imagined that you'd be all in on that, particularly after Camille's death." Logan looked down and shook his head frantically, she nodded and looked around; "When I was living in this house, I thought it was too big for me. That it would be hard to live alone in it. But after you two bought it, I couldn't believe I actually did it. And I missed it. You know, family house and all the memories."

"Mrs. Diamond, I'm sorry b-"

"Just think about it." She said as she laid a hand on his knee comfortingly; "If you decide to sell it, I'll be more than ecstatic to buy it. And now it costs almost double what you two have paid all eight years ago," She got no answer as the younger brunette kept looking away, his eyes bouncing up and down at a fast pace. She sighed and picked up her purse; "I'm sorry if I bothered you."

She got up to leave and was almost out the door when she heard Logan call out her name.

"Look, you're Camille's aunt and…" He trailed off and shook his head; "I keep a spare key under the front doormat. You can come whenever you feel like it."

"Thank you, honey." The older woman smiled genuinely; "I'll be waiting for you to visit me as well, okay?"

"I had no idea people who quit their jobs are that happy." Emily Mitchell said as she hugged her brother tightly; "It's about time you came to visit."

"Kendall told you?" Logan asked as he followed her to the kitchen, and sat at the counter table, watching her as she moved around, preparing dinner for her husband.

"He also said you won't finish the book." She closed the oven and walked towards him, resting her hand on his shoulder; "Logan, are you mad at me?"

"No, not at all." He shook his head; "Why would you ever say that?"

"You were always a quiet guy, Logan." Emily started; "You wouldn't normally talk to anybody but me. You haven't been visiting or talking to me as much as before; so are you mad at me?"

"No, I swear it." Logan replied with a smile; "There's just nothing to tell lately."

"So you're okay?"

"Em."

"Just tell me that you're sure you're okay and I'll back off."

"I'm better than before, sis."

"Good." She smiled and hugged him. When she pulled back, she glanced at the clock; "Hey, Carlos is almost home. You should stay for dinner."

Logan's frown returned as he declined the offer, sliding off the stool where he had been sitting; "I have some stuff to do at home; I should get going."

"Oh, come on." Emily tried to stop him, only getting a kiss on the forehead in return as he slipped past her and walked towards the door; "At least stay for dinner!"

"Can't. I have to go."

He was about to turn the door knob when it was pushed open from the other side and Carlos Garcia walked in, nearly bumping into his brother in law.

"Logan, hey!" Carlos greeted; "Where're you going?"

"I have to go, I need uh-I need to finish some work at home." Logan answered, refusing to meet Carlos's eye. He pushed past the shorter latino and completely ignoring the elevator, heading straight to the stir case.

Carlos looked at Emily questioningly and she gestured to him to follow her brother. Carlos sighed and went to the elevator, following the guy he knew since high school and he managed to catch up to Logan right in front of their apartment block.

"Logan!" Carlos called as he finally caught up, catching Logan by the elbows and turning him so he could look at him; "Are you really going to act like that every time you see me?"

"It's nothing; I just have work to do."

"Look, I know you're mad at me because of Camille's case." Carlos said, watching as the brunette shoved his hands into his jeans' pocket; "But you need to understand that I wasn't the cop in charge, okay? I was taken off the case because Camille and I are related through you and Emily and there was nothing I could do about it. The cops on the case did every thing they can, Logan, there was nothing else that could've been done."

"It's been a year, Carlos." Logan finally said, bouncing on the balls of his feet; "Let it go."

"You can't tell to freaking let it go when every time you see me you look at me like I killed her!" Carlos looked down and sighed, running his fingers through his short hair; "I'll try to reopen the case and see what I can do, okay? Hell, I'll start a private investigation if I have to."

"You don't need to." The taller man replied; "I don't need anything from you."

Three hours later, Logan was standing in front of his dining table, where a tool box and various tools were scattered all over the table. He held the ancient camera that he had just bought the day before in his hand, proud of the fact that he had fixed it in record time and that it was ready to roll.

He aimed the camera at the wall where all the photo frames used to be and snapped a picture, grinning as he heard the loud shutter. He took another one of his living room and packed the camera to go out and take some pictures with it.

By the time he was home, he had only taken two photos. One of them was of a street performer in front of the subway station and the other was of a random old man who owned a coffee shop down the street from his place. He went to the basement, where there was a separate room where he had a few old cameras that worked with films and where he used to process those films.

An hour later, Logan sat on his living room couch, in front of the wall with the photo frames, frowning as he studied the photo in his hand. The wall in front of his was completely bare, just as it was when he took the photo earlier. He raised the photo he held I his hand, looking at the large frame of Camille's photo that he had taken down the previous day.

He ran a hand through his hair, gripping the ends of it at the nape of his neck as he looked at the other photos, swearing these weren't the ones he took. The one of the street musician didn't show him playing the guitar, instead, he was sitting against the wall, hugging his guitar to him and appeared to be asleep. The one with the old man showed the man's limb body on the ground in front of his coffee shop with a crowd of people gathered around him.

He discarded those two and looked at the one that freaked him out the most.

It was of a body of a man a little over six feet tall. He was lying on his back between shreds of glass on the floor of Logan's living room. The man's features weren't that clear and Logan couldn't recognize him at all, all he could tell about that man was the fact that he had dark hair.

That's about it…..

First of, I know about old cameras as much as I know about Chinese language. Nothing. At all. Well, I know they worked with plates back the, not with films but let's pretend they worked with films back in 1831? I know films were invented by the end of the 1800s and the start of the next century but I'm not anywhere near sure. So yeah.

And no, this story is not about anybody coming back from the dead. Just to be clear.

There are also no vampires or werewolves or witches.

Or a zombie apocalypse.

Just saying.

Till next chapter!

-J