Author's note: I've typically waited until I've completed each story to post each on in their entirety but this time, I'm trying out posting each chapter as I complete and finalize the editing. Tonight, I'm posting both the prologue and the first chapter of one of my current WIPs as the prologue only gives a brief hint at the story's direction. This is a new venture for me and involved the creation of one major and several minor characters of my own to set up the story which will take place mostly in Portland. Some of the settings for Portland, Maine are real and others are entirely fictional. The prologue might not seem very Once Upon a Time suited, but the mystery will unfold for you by the end of this little introduction and I hope you'll stick with the tale as you learn what led us here.

Sunday Afternoon, off the coast of Portland, Maine – just south of Long Island

They'd ventured a lot further out into Casco Bay than Ty Harris would have preferred considering that Will's rusty old trawler was barely holding together, but his buddy had insisted that he had found the absolute best spot for harvesting local lobsters - somewhere out here in the middle of the ocean. Now they were navigating through the sound toward Peaks Island where Will made a gradual turn to the west heading toward the rugged eastern shore of Diamond Island. And yet, somewhere out here in the cold Atlantic, Will had sworn on his season tickets to Fenway that he had stumbled onto the perfect location to drop his traps. He'd returned from his last run with some of the biggest, meatiest lobsters that Ty had ever seen, but right now, he wasn't really sure if Will even knew where he was going because they were heading straight into the ferry and shipping lanes. Just what the hell had he been thinking last night when - for whatever reason - it had only taken a few beers to convince him to tag along? Now with his hangover a constant reminder of his questionable decision, he could only pray that they were nearly there before the choppy sea claimed what remained of his dignity.

"So – where exactly is this little sweet spot of yours? All I can see out there on the horizon is half a mile of uninhabited coastline. You sure you remember where you dropped those traps?" He tugged his charcoal grey wool cap tighter over his dark blonde hair and reddening ears to ward off the chill of the sea air. Even though it was nearly mid-day, the sun had scarcely raised the temperature more than a degree or two as the surprisingly strong spring winds were winning the battle, but at least the skies were clear.

"We're almost there," Will replied, slightly perturbed that his friend would dare question him – or his recollection. "It's just out a little further – near the south coast of Little Diamond."

"Isn't that pretty close to the ferry?" Ty wondered, trying to figure out how such a busy waterway could possibly be a lobster fishing paradise.

"It's to the east of all that," Will explained as he eased off the throttle to slow the trawler as they entered the main shipping lane between the larger islands.

"I'm probably going to regret asking this," Ty began, "but is it even legal to be fishing out here? Please tell me you have permits for this…"

"Sort of…"

"Sort of? Will, what exactly does 'sort of' mean?" Ty glared at his dark haired pal wondering if it was too late to tell him to just drop him off at the nearest ferry terminal before he regretted this venture.

"I have permits for the traps, but I kinda gave a different location for where I was going to drop them so no one would get tipped off to my spot."

"Ugh… Tell me again why I let you talk me into this?" Ty said with an exasperated sigh, staring out at the azure horizon as yet another of the region's numerous coastal islands came into view, wishing that he'd had the forethought to don his navy down jacket with the attached hood instead of the black one he'd automatically grabbed from the closet that morning. The calendar may have said that it was mid-April, but it was still quite frigid today – the air temperature barely over 40 degrees and even at their now slower speed, the salt laden sea spray stung his exposed skin. These lobsters better be worth it…

As he maneuvered the trawler closer to the shore of the tiny island, Will dug a set of binoculars out of his oversized tackle box and passed them over to his skeptical friend.

"Here – start looking for a buoy with a blue flag tied to it," Will instructed his friend, easing further back on the throttle as he brought the old boat down to a crawl, allowing it to bob with the waves.

"Blue flag?"

"Yep. I tied it myself so I could find my spot again."

"Okay," Ty shrugged. "Looking for a blue flag on a buoy." Ty took a step down from the trawler's pilot house and made his way out to the bow to get an unencumbered view then lifted the binoculars to his eyes, scanning the visible coastline of the island and the shallows that surrounded it. This side of Little Diamond was largely undeveloped – lots of grass covered marshes and plains, jagged rocky outcrops and stretches of completely deserted beaches. At least there weren't any other boats out here so perhaps this lobster hideaway wasn't a Will Henderson myth after all.

"We should be getting close…," Will shouted to him.

"Haven't seen any blue flags yet. Just one red and white buoy. You sure you tied the flag securely?" He responded just as loudly as he allowed his search to drift past that buoy, back to the coast.

"Yes – it was tied securely," was the snide response he got back from his friend. Ty snorted and laughed as he continued to scour the beach for signs of Will's flag, but the smirk faded from his face as he found himself completely unprepared for what he saw next…

"Damn! There's somebody out there!" Ty exclaimed loudly as he spied what appeared to be the crumpled shape of a person lying on the deserted beach.

"What?! What do you mean there's someone out there?" All Will could think of was that someone had found his secret fishing spot and he wasn't the least bit happy about it.

"There's someone on the beach," Ty insisted, hurrying back to the pilot house while pointing excitedly at the shore a few hundred yards away. "Can you move in closer to the shore so I can get a better look?"

"You're sure it's not a log like the last time?" Will teased. "If we call out Coast Guard Rescue for driftwood again, we'll be the laughing stock of Cumberland County…"

"That's not a piece of driftwood. I'm telling you that's a person and they look like they might be in trouble. Or maybe your sweet spot just isn't so secret after all…"

"Whatever," Will scoffed. "I can get within a few hundred feet of the shore, but we'll have to take the skiff in." He positioned the trawler as close to the beach as he could safely get as the bay became shallower, still not entirely convinced that Ty had seen a person out there, but he wasn't about to call anything in until he could verify that it really wasn't a log. "Give me those binoculars and go lower the skiff while I drop anchor."

Once the trawler was securely anchored off of the island, Will himself raised the binoculars and gazed out toward the stretch of beach Ty had indicated. It didn't take long for him to spot the exact figure Ty had located – and it most certainly wasn't a log. From this vantage point, the figure looked to be a man dressed all in black laying on his side in a near fetal position and he didn't appear to be moving at all. Probably asleep or dead - or maybe somewhere in between but there was no way to be certain until they reached the shore. He lowered the binoculars and stowed them back into his tackle box as he heard the distinctive splash of the fiberglass rowboat hitting the water and the solid thump of the rope ladder hitting the side of the boat. Time to go investigate.

It took the two men a few minutes to position the oars and row to shore and as they approached the beach, they hopped out in the ankle deep water thankful for thick insulated and waterproof boots to spare them the sting of the icy water. Then they dragged the little boat up onto the sand so it wouldn't drift away with the tide, noticing as they'd gotten closer to him that the mysterious person was certainly in trouble. The black denim jeans and dark leather coat that the man wore were both still damp, heavily coated with a layer of salt water residue and caked with sand as was the man's short, dark hair. A single, long tendril of seaweed was wrapped around his right ankle just above his bare foot while a black leather boot remained on his left.

"What the hell?" Will wondered as they cautiously moved closer to the unknown man.

"I told you I saw a person on the beach," Ty stated matter-of-factly. "He kinda looks dead. You think he's dead?"

"I don't know. He sure doesn't look good…," Will noted as he crouched down beside the at the very least unconscious man in black, fighting back a swell of nausea as he extended his hand toward the man's exposed neck intending to check for a pulse. The bluish tint of the man's lips and what appeared to be blood in the sand around him made him doubtful that he'd find any signs of life, but as he pressed his index and middle finger to the seemingly dead man's throat, he surprisingly found a slight pulsation. "He's alive, but just barely, I think."

"Is that blood?" Ty asked as he also noticed the dark stained sand beneath the man's body.

"I pretty sure it is. We've gotta get back to the trawler and radio for Rescue. Don't know how long this guy's been out here, but he won't last much longer once that tide comes in."

"What about your semi-legal traps out there?"

"We don't say anything about those," Will insisted. "We were just out scouting some fishing coves when we saw this guy." Will stood up and started back toward the skiff, picking up the tow line to drag it back into the shallows. "Come on – we've got to hurry!"

"Shouldn't one of us stay with him?" Ty wondered as he reluctantly shifted his weight toward the skiff. "I mean…"

"He's not going anywhere," Will assured him as he stepped back into the rowboat. "Stay if you want, but there really isn't a whole lot we can do for him. They're gonna have to send a rescue chopper out." Ty sighed and pondered his options for a moment, finally deciding to shrug off his down parka which he draped over the wounded man in an attempt to hopefully stave off hypothermia. He had a wool sweater and a long sleeved undershirt on underneath so he knew he wouldn't freeze to death, but if this guy had been exposed to both the icy water and the chilled air, he needed the parka more than Ty himself did.

"I'm staying. Can you bring me back one of your rain slickers when you return?"

"Sure," Will shouted as he began rowing the skiff toward the trawler. "Be back in a few!" It took him a tad longer to get back to the boat by himself, but having spent a lifetime around fishing boats, he knew exactly what he was doing as he tied off the tow line to the rope ladder to secure the skiff, then scurried up the ladder making his way back to the helm as quickly as he could, immediately tuning in the emergency channel on the radio. "Coast Guard Rescue, come in. This is the trawler Lady Lincoln in need of emergency assistance."

There were a few agonizing moments of static and silence while he awaited a response, but finally, the dispatcher's voice came across the speaker.

"Trawler Lady Lincoln, this is Coast Guard Rescue. What's the nature of your emergency? And please – not another log in distress…"

Will scowled in disgust knowing they'd likely never live that faux pas down, but now wasn't the time to argue.

"No logs this time, ma'am," he replied a bit defensively. "We found a wounded man lying on a beach on the eastern shore of Little Diamond. He'd clearly been in the water and he was pretty blue, but still alive."

"Is the victim conscious?"

"No, ma'am. There was a lot of blood around him too."

"We'll dispatch a rescue team immediately. Can you give me your present coordinates?" Will provided the details on his location from the trawler's GPS then went in search of the rain slicker he promised he'd bring back, locating one hanging on a hook steps away from the bridge. He'd learned to always keep one close since out here, weather could turn on you in an instant. He decided he should probably bring a blanket too as he yanked open the hatch to the trawler's lower compartment. He couldn't really call it a cabin because he spent little time down there, but he'd kept its tiny galley and berth stocked with supplies including a couple of cotton and wool blend blankets tucked away in the hold beneath the rarely used bunk. He tugged the slicker on over his parka and slung the blanket over his shoulder as he returned to the top deck then lowered himself down to the skiff yet again.

Wow, how this day had changed. He'd gone from the anticipation of pulling up loaded lobster traps to suddenly trying to save the life of an injured stranger they'd encountered. They knew nothing about this man except that he was hurt and probably nearly drowned. For all they knew, they could be helping to rescue a serial killer, but he knew Ty would never be able to live with himself it he left someone out here to die, so here they were. It was the right call to make and deep down inside, he knew it - even if it was an inconvenience. Talk about being in the wrong place at the right time… Or was it the right place at the wrong time?

Portland, Maine Medical Center – Appx 40 min later

The crowded Portland Memorial Medical Center emergency room had been bustling all morning and well into the afternoon as victims of an overturned bus on Interstate 295 were treated for various injuries. Thankfully, only two had been exceptionally serious but the ER staff hadn't had much of a break between patients even before the alert came in that a Coast Guard Rescue helicopter was enroute with critical patient. Being the only Level One Trauma center in the area made for a lot of busy, stress filled days since the only alternative was an even longer flight to Boston.

As ER attending physician Dr. Rami Chaudry made his way up to the helipad to meet the Rescue unit, he reviewed the sketchy information that had been provided by dispatch. So far, all they really knew was that the victim was male, estimated to be in his mid-thirties. He had been found unconscious on one of the coastal islands less than an hour ago, showed signs of submersion in salt water, consistent with near drowning and had a deep puncture wound through his torso – entering through his back just below the rib cage and to the right of his spine. It was an unusual combination that likely meant foul play was involved and since the victim had been found off shore, it would fall under Cumberland County Sheriff jurisdiction so he knew they'd be speaking with one of their deputies at some point. Right now though, Dr. Chaudry just wanted to make his own assessment of the patient who was being unloaded from the helicopter onto a gurney for transport downstairs. He waited until the Coast Guard medics were within earshot as the rotors slowly powered down to a level where his voice would be heard.

"What have you brought for me today?" he called out to one of the medics he recognized as Lieutenant Dixon, a veteran with nearly a decade of service on the rescue unit. He knew the medic would repeat most of the information the dispatcher had already supplied, but he could now discern more of the detail.

"Unknown male – No ID found on him. Couple of fishermen found him approximately an hour ago. Clothing was still damp from salt water immersion and body temperature was at 94.6 when we arrived. It's still hovering right around 95 degrees so still hypothermic. Mild signs of cyanosis on the extremities so we intubated enroute in an attempt to get oxygen levels up."

"What about the dorsal puncture wound?" the doctor asked as the gurney was rolled into the elevator where he could finally get a closer look at his newest patient.

"Appears to have been made with a sharp, narrow blade – long enough though that it punctured clean through his torso. Angle suggests high likelihood of liver damage and possible perforation of the diaphragm," Lt. Dixon explained, now able to lower his voice as the elevator doors closed.

"So we have no idea who he is or how he ended up out there?" Dr. Chaudry asked aloud, although mostly to himself as he took mental note of the details. Not only were the victim's clothes damp, but so was his hair with clumps of sand still matted into it suggesting that it hadn't been long since the victim had exited the water. A swollen and darkening bruise beneath his right eye along with a split open bottom lip suggested that their victim had been involved in some sort of altercation prior to ending up in the water, although the possibility existed that he could have struck something in the water. He carefully raised the victim's right hand, trying not to disturb the IV line the medics had placed there but needing a closer inspection of the abrasions across the man's knuckles – again another likely indicator of an altercation, but not definitive. "Definitely seeing signs of a struggle of some sort," he said, eyeing the three potentially valuable white gold or platinum rings that his patient sported on his thumb, index and ring fingers. "By the look of these though, it doesn't seem like a robbery gone bad…"

"Oh, that's not the strangest part," Dixon spoke up as the doors parted outside of the Emergency department. "Our victim is an amputee. His left hand is a prosthetic and not like one I've ever seen before…" The medic raised the victim's left arm, which possessed what at first glance would appear as a gloved hand, but as Dixon peeled back the black leather of the glove, beneath was a rigid carved wooden hand which was attached to some sort of leather base adorned with brass studs. The base itself was then housed within a clearly custom made leather cuff that was decorated with a series of straps and silver buckles that were fastened tightly to secure the prosthetic to the man's forearm. "It's the most unique prosthetic I've ever seen…"

"It's definitely not like anything that has come through my ER before," Dr. Chaudry agreed, "but right now, it's the least of my concern. I'm sure it will be relevant to help identify him later, but first, we focus on saving his life."