A Familiar Face

Leanna hadn’t expected to see her again—not like this.

She sat in her small apartment, an open research file on her desk and the hum of the TV playing in the background. The LA Olympic Games broadcast filled the room, something she had turned on for background noise while she worked.

But then she heard the name.

"Competing in the women’s heptathlon, representing Belize, we have Jessica Sanchez, an athlete making waves in international track and field. Let’s take a look at her journey to the Olympics—"

Leanna’s pen slipped from her fingers. Her eyes snapped to the screen just in time to see the camera pan over her—the runner standing at the starting blocks, stretching, focused, preparing for the 200-meter dash. It was Jess. The name was different. The country was different. But she was unmistakable.

Leanna’s breath caught in her throat. She leaned forward, fingers tightening around the edge of her desk as the camera zoomed in on the athlete’s face. It was her. Jess was alive.

For years, Leanna had never stopped looking. Never stopped researching Project Prometheus. She had spent sleepless nights buried in files, scanning databases, following rumors. It had become her obsession. And now, after all this time, Jess had just appeared—not in some shadowy corner of the world, but on live television, in front of millions.

Leanna grabbed her phone with shaking hands and FaceTimed the first contact in her list.

Kevin answered, bleary-eyed, his hair tousled from sleep. "Leanna? It’s like six in the morning. What—"

"Turn on the Olympics," she interrupted, her voice urgent.

Kevin squinted. "What?"

"Just do it!"

She could hear him fumbling around, then the distinct click of a TV remote. Silence. Then a sharp inhale.

"No. Freaking. Way."

Leanna barely had time to process his reaction before she called the others.

******************************

Ryan was in Stockholm. His band had landed there the night before as part of their European tour. He was still jet-lagged, sitting in a dimly lit hotel room, when his phone buzzed with an incoming FaceTime request.

"Leanna?" He rubbed his eyes. "What’s up?"

"Turn on the Olympics. Now."

"Uh… I’m kind of in Sweden—"

"Just find a damn stream, Ryan!"

Her voice was so sharp, so urgent, that Ryan didn’t even argue. He grabbed his laptop, clicked through to a live feed, and his tired eyes landed on the women’s heptathlon event.

And then he saw her. His heart nearly stopped.

"Jess?"

The name on the screen said Jessica Sanchez. But there was no mistaking her. Ryan stood abruptly, knocking over a half-empty beer bottle on the table. "Holy shit."

Leanna’s voice came through the phone, breathless and unsteady. "She’s alive, Ryan."

******************************

Hannah and Olivia were together in New York, watching the Olympics at a rooftop bar, catching up after months apart. They had both gone their separate ways—Hannah working for an event planning company, Olivia diving into investigative journalism.

Then Leanna’s call came through.

The second they answered, Leanna’s voice cut through the noise. "Look at the TV. Right now."

Both of them turned their heads, their eyes locking onto the screen. And then they saw her.

Olivia’s drink nearly slipped from her fingers. "No. No way."

Hannah covered her mouth with her hands. "Oh my God…"

******************************

Back in her apartment, Leanna had every call on a group FaceTime.The screen was filled with familiar faces, all of them in various states of shock. No one spoke for a long moment, only the faint sound of the Olympic broadcast playing in the background.

Then Kevin broke the silence. "So… we’re going to LA, right?"

Leanna nodded, her voice steady but filled with emotion. "Yes. We’re going to find her."

And this time, they weren’t going to let her disappear again.