Author's note: Alright, I did not expect anyone to actually request that crossover idea. But you know what people say, never say never. I had a bit of difficulty trying to decipher which POV I should focus on more since both can be interesting. In the end, though, I decided to do a mix of both. Hopefully, it was in the same amount of words for Leon & Reader. If not, I really tried you guys, I wrote this oneshot way too long! It's not a great habit of mine. If anyone wants a part two of this, I could do it for you since it has the potential for it.

Warning: Spoilers for both franchises (duh).

There was this sheer amount of despair that she had felt the last time she went unconscious, this feeling that all her hope had been abandoned from one single mistake.... No, she had made more mistakes prior, yet this one could have been avoided. She should have expected it. She should have followed her instinct that something odd was going on the moment she had stepped foot into that abandoned location and then attempted to turn on that Apple 2. She could have searched for other things beforehand, even taken it home perhaps, and dig through its content from there. Instead, that giant door locked her in that small room. Playing out a message for somebody that wasn't even with her, someone she had heard about through digging old documents and from passing.

It was a setup. The whole location was a trap to capture Deborah in there and then use her for something. Whatever was in that operating machine, which was stagnant previously, had no intention of killing her. It was meant to change her. That was what she figured whilst attempting to get out of there. The scentist anouncer was cruelly generous in giving whoever stumbled upon the ploy five minutes to pray, along with reflecting your own actions. Not that she ever used her speech for prayings, how could anyone be able to do that when red lights are flashing, and constant beeping sounds are occurring? She panicked at first, desperately doing whatever she could to have a sliver of chance to become free. Using whatever tool could be useful, the more they broke, their intended use being useless in a crisis like this. Panic unhurriedly became despondent acceptance.

She recalled it's scent reminding her of toxic chemicals, it was incredibly unpleasant, barely being able to breath as it felt like thorns poking her throat every second, but rather than making her feel the pain, she became woozy. The explosive flatulence didn't halt spewing out any more content than necessary. It was truly made to let out all of it until it had nothing left. She could barely stand, speak longer than she desired, all she could think about was irony.

About a woman she knew who had seen too much risked a lot, still standing, nonetheless, gave up on her other dreams and a normal life. Dedicated onto fixing Syntec’s mess, her life’s story, whether that be a person or an object. Herself, however, what made her want to aid that woman? Simple, a good scoop. Selfish, immensely so, career ending as well, she told herself it would be worth it though. Saving lives too on top of it, she cared for human life, even though she despised socialising with others when she wasn't hidden behind a communication tool. She believed she would be alright. It would be dangerous, yes, nothing that she couldn’t handle, though... oh, how wrong she came to be.

She never realised how cruel humanity could be. She had heard a lot, but hearing and experiencing events are two major separate things. Her carelessness brought her here, not preparing anything other than the basics beforehand made her powerless, not asking anyone she trusted to go with her made her more alone. These duel serums were affecting her body, her blood, her mind. It did not take long. The seconds didn't even make it close to a minute. And as her feminine frame was about to give up on her, falling backwards to a slightly worn medical recliner, possibly from subjects clawing at it from intense pain. She couldn't help but think back on those words, Ms. Kendall had called her. She truly was a Devil may care idiot.

The enormous vault-like door thudded open on its own, silencing the alarm that had been screaming throughout the area. The red warning lights resumed their frenzied pulse, illuminating the inside in a sickening, repetitive glow, but the unmusical beeping that had reverberated off the chilly walls of the room had not stopped. Not until the moment a figure dressed entirely in black emerged through the doorway. His mask, which the googles may be LED, had this glowing red circle shape. It was the only source of light on his face. Even so, it did not reveal his eyes. Three entwined snakes serve as the mask's insignia on the front, and tubes are hooked to vials on the cheeks. The dust that had fallen on the floor was hardly stirred by the bottoms of his boots as he moved in a practised stillness.

Unconcerned about the effects on the environment, he let the leftover vapours escape into the outside world. He bent down a bit next to the armchair and used his gloved hands to realign the woman's spine so that her head was just where he needed it to be. Then the figure stood up straight and moved in the direction of the row of metal lockers along the far wall. With a creaking hiss, he opened one, and the door slid aside to reveal a hoard of medical equipment, some of which were more worrisome than others. The clang reverberated like a menacing note in a lament when he shut the locker door. He appeared to be getting ready for a proper examination as he turned back to the unconscious woman. Time is ticking, even when creatures are not awake to witness the events unfolding around the globe.

There is this soothing sound of water flowing, moving as if something had chaotically touched it at first and after the issue was taken care of, was deadly silent. The huge spot of crimson was proof of that. He had it killed so quickly, painstakingly difficult, but he did it. He should be relieved, and he was, for a split second until he felt himself cough out blood, both to his left palm and the lake. Screw Del Lago. Leon S. Kennedy’s headaches knocked him out faster than a speeding car. However, rather than taking forever to wake up once more, only a few minutes passed when his blepharals began closing and opening a couple of times in confusion, which included tiredness. He wobbly began to sit up as glintes of memories rushed by to the surface of his brain: files, car ride, unit, computer, a red light, and then—nothing. Through his hazy eyesight, he began rubbing his eyelids in order to wake himself up properly. But instead of feeling comfortable with the calming sounds of nature around him, he jolted in realisation, accidently slamming his foot to the currently rooking boat with the force of a hammer.

“Wha- What in tarnation...?” He whispered, the voice raw and gruff, alien on his... no.... on her own tongue. “...How did I get here? Why am I a guy!?” She clutched at the tactical gear, freaking out in a wiped out manner as Leon's fingers were brushing the worn leather of the holster, feeling the familiar weight of the 9mm gun. She didn't know a lot about guns, but she knew this one was a Silver Ghost. Her father used to own one... The pistol was warm, as if it had just been fired, but no gunpowder lingered in the air. 'There is a chance that it's just distinctive', she spoke to herself in her head as her mind scrambled to catch up. When she tried to calm herself and tried to figure out what to do from here, she remembered something from her youth.

During her early days, when she still believed in true love's kiss. Her father had said that, one day, she would meet her Soulmate, but it's very difficult to do so, especially if they live on the opposite side of the world. So the Lord gave humanity a tiny blessing in order to figure out who your partner is, where they are, and borrow their body for one hour to understand their Soulmate better. The catch is that you have no idea when the phenomenon is going to occur. Some get it in their early twenties, whilst others don't receive the experience until they are elderly. One thing that is not guaranteed however is that it dosen’t tell you if your Soulmate is long gone, not at least until the phenomenon is supposed to happen, but instead of switching bodies, you get this feeling of becoming a rotten corpse. An acquaintance once said that his Soulmate's death reminded him of the war, death too, but mostly the atmosphere of bloody corpses. It was awful. She dosen’t doubt it. He had this haunted look in his irises.

Just thinking about it made her even more sadder than normal, geez, and she's supposed to be happy now that she's been given this chance to experience it. The atmosphere of the area, though, makes it known that it's not supposed to be all sunshine and rainbows. Still, that didn't stop her from hugging herself to feel as if her Soulmate was actually there to comfort her. She was so scared, she still is, she dosen’t know what happened to her after all that, was she alright? She couldn't be dead. It wouldn't make any sense to the kindered spirit logic if she was. She hoped her body wouldn't be feeling pain because of that serum bomb thing, not for herself, but for her precious Soulmate. He seems to be injured too after he went unconscious, she did her best in order to fix any injuries with the medical supplies he had on him, yet she couldn't say if it was enough or not. She needed to go back to shore. Maybe even find potential allies that have a common goal with her Soulmate, extra backup dosen’t hurt unless they're plausible backstabbers. She'll need to ponder more about that when she gets to safety. She doesn't have that much remaining period span.

As she cautiously attempted to move, the old Jon boat, which was partly wooden and half aluminium, trembled beneath her like an anxious child. She had only ever been in a cruiser and watched her aunts fish, so she had no prior experience operating a boat. The motor was so basic that it appeared to make fun of her. She said, attempting to persuade herself as much as the boat, "Turn left, turn right—how hard can it be?" Her first attempt was a clumsy tug to the left, causing the Jon boat's bow to swing sharply and its hull to scrape the water's surface with a high-pitched whine. Her body lurched along with the boat, her knees banging against the wooden seat. Leon’s cheeks heated with embarrassment, but the only sounds coming from the sea animals were the distant call of a loon and the steady thrum of the motor. Feeling the cool air fill her lungs, she took a long breath and allowed it to stabilise her. "All right, concentrate," she stated out loud. She recalled some guidance from a conversation she had overheard: It takes more timing than effort to steer a boat. Feeling the slight resistance of the water against the hull, she relaxed her hold and let the wheel turn. A tiny bit of confidence ignited in her as the boat responded with a smoother, gentler arc.

She became more aware of the depressing surroundings as the shore approached; the silhouettes of the natural world stood out against the waning light. Nervousness and excitement mixed together as Leon's heart pounded in her ears. She could see the dock's edge, the sturdy, ancient wooden planks. She guided the Jon boat to park with a last, deliberate pull on the throttle. Her face lit up with a smile as she released a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding. Leon’s shoes felt the creek as she stepped onto the dock. As she took a peek beyond the woods, staring at nothing particular, taking in whatever was around, she made a self-promise to take care of her soulmate's body; she was unsure of the specifics, but she was aware that whatever was out there was definitely abnormal. And this place, why ever her Soulmate decided to be here, is not for the light-hearted. Good for her, that she had seen much to not lose her sanity that easily, if she's going to experience terrifying things that is...

Rain pounded on the nearly pitch-black apartment's glass on the other side of the globe, each splash sounding like a metronome that counted down the hours Leon Kennedy had been made to reside in a body that wasn't his own. He was first so perplexed that he initially believed he had been abducted once more, but this time was different. It didn't take him long to realise that the figure—Leon's own "soul-mate," the person he had vowed to defend with his life if they ever met—was dressed almost entirely in black, with the exception of a dark red vest and tie, a featureless mask that had the function of a voice modulator, and a pair of crimson-glowing goggles in the shape of spades.

If he was a dumb person, he would have thought that his Soulmate was working for Umbrella and trying to stop him from digging for information by using her own body against him. Yet Leon isn't stupid. He may be that when it comes to emotional decisions, but not in everyday circumstances. He can tell that something odd is going on, something that wasn't supposed to happen occurred. The frustrating part, though, is that there were no answers that could be told because he had no knowledge over it.

On the sill, four vials marked "Life's Blood" rested like small, accusing poisons, their crimson contents shining from the goggles. The metallic clasp that securely fastened the bindings appeared to pulse a tiny amount from the weather. He attempted to flex his fingers once again. He even bothered moving her hands, but these limbs followed a beat that wasn't his own. At most, the left hand twitched. “God fucking damn it,” Leon muttered in her mind, the curse catching in the throat of a man who had spent years, up until this point to learn how to keep his composure. “I could do a lot more before, so why can't I now?”

The woman's breathing got sharp for a second as she exhaled. The way she did it wasn't out of anger. It was more so for mild annoyance. She eyed the homemade tube watch she had set a timer for, and thirty-two minutes had flown by. A part of him was happy that he wouldn't be wasting more time since he needed to find Ashley. However, the other part was disappointed over the predicament he was in. It wasn't supposed to be this way, and he's learned nothing about his Soulmate. Leon tried to take his mind off of those thoughts as he began to side eyed that surprisingly not big watch again. He would be lying to himself if he said that this gadget looked horrible. It's actually gorgeous. The nixie tubes had this simple look to it, and there are only two tubes, but with the way it operated it could tell the military time exactly by just switching, also flickering, the numbers quick enough. He wouldn't mind getting one if he ever did find it to be available.

The masked woman dosen’t do much, and if she did something, it was minor. Leon could feel her heart beat in a weird way behind her ribs; he could feel the faint tremor of her own pulse through the foreign skin. It sounded normal, yet it felt wrong. Incredibly so. He had tried everything, even means of communication with the woman, but the individual stayed silent. Listened, yes. Nonetheless, there was no sign of her wanting to engage in his conversations. Then, with exactly twenty minutes left on the timer, the silence shattered.

“You know Kennedy,” her voice crooned, seeping through the mask’s built‑in speaker. "I never did find the idea of Soulmates interesting, or love in general. It's incredibly meaningless to me. But when it comes to the countless ways of being connected to someone else, especially body swapping. I just can't help but tear deeper.” Leon was startled at first, he didn't expect her to speak at all, yet with the limited power he had, he tried to not show any fear, not that she could see it anyways. Her speech kind of hurt to hear. He needed to know more about her, though, so he couldn't focus on that now. "You know who I am?" He questioned sceptically, surely she couldn't have figured it out just by listening to him from her mind. Her response was so calm, so quiet, it was eerily uncomfortable. "Intimately." So she knows him personally? No, that can't be right. She may have gotten information about him in other ways.

His sight darted to the vials. Life’s Blood—the name alone being a mystery. He could see the tiny droplet of liquid on the edge of one vial, a bit solid, perhaps from the amount of time it rested there without being wiped off. Nevertheless, that wasn't what he was focusing on at the moment. It was the symbol and the company name associated with it, Syntec. Wasn't that the group who had a government contract with Umbrella? At least partnered up with them in the past? Leon’s mind was racing from the reminiscence. “Who are you, really?”

It was silent, longer than a minute. All he could hear was the sound of the mask buzzing that of a cicada. As if she was contemplating how to deliver it to him, they were not it, however, not with the way her body started shaking. Not out of pain or fear, more of hilarity. She was giggling. It was as if Leon had asked an incredibly stupid question. The giggling turned into laughter. He couldn't describe it as anything but unnatural, as if that type of laughter didn't belong to her. The giggles returned shortly after as she was attempting to catch her breath. "I'm not your lady, of course. Wherever you were meant to be, she is there now.

It was an obvious answer, one that made sense to the context of rules he was taught growing up. It scared him to think that the one meant for him was facing those beings. He had no idea if they could even handle it by themselves. If they were strong enough for it. He didn't care about the potential idea that he could lose his body and die for real afterwards. He was more concerned over those who would suffer because he couldn't do anything about it... wait... if his Soulmate is in his body... then who...?

"You may call me the Absolute, and the clock is ticking,” the tone is as smooth as a syringe’s glide, “when it ends, you will find that the one your soul craves for is as dead as the vessel that houses it. The only one remaining is me.” Leon sought to tighten his jaw. For years, sorrow and circumstances had, in a way, softened the wrath that rushed through him, but now it boiled over with a ferocity he had never experienced. Even if he doesn't know her, the Absolute's words were a thin veil over the reality he sensed: the idea of her in this position. He wanted to do some punching to demand her? He? To undo it, to choke the very hell out of the person who did this to his beloved. However, these hands stayed still, their shoulders locked in a position of coerced confinement.

"Oh dry your eyes, it's just a woman," she muttered, rolling her exhausted eyes under the goggles with a practised contempt. The puppeteer could taste the metallic tang of Leon's frustration and feel the heat of his rage radiating like a furnace. This was something the mastermind had witnessed innumerable times. However, there was a sense of enjoyment in the voice, as though the Absolute was seeing a child's outburst over a broken toy. Leon had unintentionally clutched his right palm so tightly that it not only made her knuckles incredibly white, but it happened as quickly as lightning. But because her nails were sharp beneath the gloves, the pressure made her palm bleed. The lines of her lips beneath the mask curled into a narrow smile that was half grimace, half smirk as the vessel's gaze changed from amusement to intrigue. "Interesting," the Absolute remarked, those words hanging in the stuffy air like a vow. "It seems like I'm not as in control as I believed I was. There is still a glimmer of agency within her. The walls of my design are being destroyed by human passion. That's odd, not even Benjamin could do that...ignore me yes, but not outright proceed with an action..."

Leon managed to pay attention to his words in his rage, about this Benjamin fella, those words of the Absolute confirmed something for him. His sweetheart wasn't the only one being used like a host, but if he has multiple others like her out there. Why sticking so close to her? Did his Soulmate stumble upon something she shouldn't, and that's why she was like this? “Hey, genius,” Leon snapped a bit, his voice cutting through the stale air like a rifle blast. “What the hell are you doing, staring at her like she’s a stained‑glass window?” The silence thickened as the Absolute examined the bloodied palm as it was still flowing out some liquid, having taken off the glove beforehand and put it on her lap, revealing to Leon the colour of her skin, anathor clue, the Absolute seemed more intrested on the occurrence than Leon’s chattering. Especially his own mutterings. “This guy really be practising the ancient art of ‘Emotional Vampirism’—sucking the light out of individuals faster than a power outage.” Luckily for Leon, the parasite didn't do it for a long time if the agent could. He would have done anything he could to beat the absolute crap out of this person if he'd ever met her? Him? Face to face. Nevertheless, what the Absolute said afterwards made his heart drop.

"Times up, Kennedy," It was not a threat so much as a finality. Leon tried to speak, but a sudden surge of nausea slammed whatever was left of his soul that was beginning to drift away. The phantom leaned forward, putting her elbows on her knees, using the reflection as if to show that the Absolute was talking down on him. “Be a good dog, agent. Go fetch her. Find the president’s daughter. And don’t sniff after things you don’t understand, it would be quite boring to see the same result take place again, don't you think so?” A sudden, dizzy sense of light flooded Leon’s senses. He knew that it was going to feel nauseous returning to his own body, yet he didn't expect it to feel like having a ten times worse hangover. He could feel her ears experiencing tinnitus before everything went black.

The moment Leon could reveal his eyes to the world, he was no longer in the apartment. His surroundings was that of stone walls that had once belonged to proper functional buildings, the first thing he actually noticed however was not the calm setting, it was the mysterious Ganado with his hands on the table as he was examining the items Leon had supposedly given him. Although the half masked man had his eyes flickering back to him the second he realised something was off about him. His pale hands were stuffed into the pockets of his worn coat. "Ah, Stranger, you're finally back," the merchant said, his voice as gruff and nonchalant as ever.

Leon rubbed his temples and tried to gather his thoughts. The vials, the Absolute, his Soulmate… It was all too much, nothing he had initially thought could have ever happened as a scenario. He did think about the possibility of Umbrella having the ability to somehow mess up her life as well. Expect that this is far beyond his worst nightmares. The worst thing about all of it was that he had no idea what to do about it. How was he supposed to save her? He didn't learn anything about her besides what kind of colour her skin has, and that dosen’t narrow it down enough.

“Your lady just finished the Blue Medallion Blue Note Request, Stranger,” the merchant crooned, not caring about Leon’s current torment, just wanting to get this transition over with. “That’s the one that’s going to fetch you a nice little sum. With the way it all went, I'll admit, it's very impressive. The Pearl Bangle, the Red Gemstone Ring, the Gold Bar, the Butterfly Lamp, the Brass Pocket Watch, the Gold Chicken Egg, the Lunker Bass… and any Velvet Blue you’ve got left. All that, Stranger— it’ll fetch you roughly a hundred thousand pesetas.”

Leon couldn't say anything to that. He was deeply troubled still to think clearly, nonetheless, as he stared at the items, the trinkets collected in that span of time. He felt proud for her. She could handle herself just fine. The minor scrap wounds on his body didn't mind him. Whatever she had to do got his body out alive, and she aided him. He never asked for her to do that. He's very grateful nonetheless. As he got the currency from the Englishman, Leon pondered if the merchant knew anything about his Soulmate, more than the average: 'Oh so you and your Soulmate switched bodies today? How nice, do you want to know where you are?' He has never spoken to the man before, not really. The conversations between them are more in lines of confirmation sounds, nodes, along with these looks, they would give each other to say what they thought. There might be a chance that he dosen’t know anything about her at all, still, it dosen’t hurt to question.

“Did she tell you anything... about herself?” Leon’s voice was hoarse, his eyes searching the merchant’s visible facial features for any hint of truth. The merchant had this flicker of amusement that unhurriedly had a mix of something else— pity perhaps. “Didn't learn much about her, did you mate? Well, for your information, she's a journalist. She mentioned that her name is [Redacted]. Now I don't know much about missing folks, but I'm pretty sure that woman disappeared after resigning from her job two years ago. I asked her if she was that lady, and she gave me one of the most confusing looks I've ever seen. She told me that she wasn't, but I could tell that it was more complicated than that. I didn't ask anything more. More knowledge than you need tends to get you killed.”

Those words made the agent sense his throat nerves become ill, it reminded him of that parasite’s words, now laced with a cold, distant echo: “Don’t sniff after things you don’t understand, it would be quite boring to see the same result take place again, don't you think so?” Leon clenched his fists, feeling the familiar sting of resolve. He realised swiftly that was why she had been turned into whatever the Absolute called his hosts. She was a journalist who was seeking out for some sort of truth. She must have been captured somehow, and the Syntec scientists used her in order to have more followers and increase in aid and power. Her curiosity had been the bait; she failed and had no idea what became of her.

Leon thanked the Merchant before turning on his heel and leaving, no goal in mind other than to find Ashley. He needed a distraction. He couldn't focus on her situation in mind. He's already in a very much traumatising experience. If he gets too distracted, he'll be killed, and all of his efforts over the years would have been for nothing. That dosen’t mean he will drop it, though, when he gets back home, and he will. He'll do his own investigation on the sidelines, with whatever free time he has left. She's out there, somewhere. It may already be too late, but... if there is a chance to rescue his soulmate, the woman who had risked everything for a truth that never belonged to her. He's going to grab it with all his might, it can't end like this, he can't let his Soulmate's body be used like this until the end of her days, he just won't allow it.

“Don’t… don’t sniff,” that damn voice seemed to howl, “after things you don’t understand.” Leon closed his eyes for a second, letting the memory of those demeaning words fuel his resolve. He would sniff, yet he would not fully be an obedient dog. He's still selfish at the end of the day, selfish enough to want to save everyone and have what is rightfully his.