Disclaimer : I really don't own anything recognisable! Promise!

Author's Note : Hello Ashes fans! Yes, 'tis I, KookieEvans! I bring you an offering of Muse inspired fanfiction, and this time it's Galex! My first Galex fanfiction - ah bless! :)

I figure that I should start as I mean to go on, so as this is the first proper day that I have off of the summer holidays, I have decided that I would post this today, as a sign of things to come. Hopefully, if I don't get writer's block, I'll be able to write many more fanfictions!

As for the title, it is also the title of an absolutely amazing Muse song, and by a great coincidence it has a rather apt religious reference -

Absolution - noun, formal (in Christianity) - formal forgiveness for sins.

Please enjoy, and dont forget to review! ;)

"Lips are turning blue,
A kiss that can't renew,
I only dream of you,
My beautiful."

He had known this would happen one day. Just not like this. He had always thought he would go in the line of duty, with a blaze of gunfire while performing one last heroic act. And in his imaginings there had always been a certain brunette who had rushed to his side and kissed away his fears as he passed on.

Gene had never imagined he would die in a sticky puddle of his own blood, with a rusty kitchen knife resting between his ribs, all alone. The knife in question belonged to a panicked drug dealer, who had plunged the weapon into Gene's side before running away unsteadily, leaving him to die.

But was it really even possible to die here? How could a dead man die again? The searing pain in his ribs made it even harder for him to try to think of what could happen to him.

Gene growled angrily, trying to pull himself into a sitting position, but as the white hot pain flared through him he could only fall back with a gasp. It was bloody pathetic; he was so close to the dingy pub that had replaced Luigi's, so close to his new team that he could almost hear their inane laughter. The idiots were chatting and joking, completely unaware that their Guv was just a few alleys away, crippled with pain.

If his old team were still here they would have noticed something was wrong by now. Perhaps Ray would have realised the Manc Lion wasn't there to get a round of drinks in. Perhaps Alex would have seen that her boss wasn't lurking at their usual table. Either way, they would have cared enough to go out and look for him. But they were no longer here. They were safely on the other side of The Pub's doors, far from the DCI who had looked after them for so long, the DCI who desperately needed someone's help so that he wouldn't be left to die, cold and forgotten.

What would happen if he did die? He wasn't sure if it was actually possible for him to collect his own soul. Would he automatically move on to The Railway Arms? Or would he go to some dark little place for the souls who had been rejected?

Gene took a deep shaky breath, his pain-filled eyes staring up into the unblinking night sky. If he did get into the Railway Arms, would he join the rest of his team? He was tired - tired of fighting, tired of being alone. At least this way he might be able to join the beautiful woman who was waiting for him on the other side. A beautiful woman he cared for, and who cared for him (if that final kiss was anything to go by).

In fact, this whole situation was beginning to look like a blessing in disguise. Gene was finally going to be able to rest and give up his self-appointed job to meet the woman he loved. As long as there was even the smallest possibility of him finding Alex, he wasn't afraid of death.

Quite the opposite. Now he would welcome death with open arms.

But just as Gene closed his eyes and resigned himself to his fate, he heard the noise he least wanted to hear - the sound of echoing footsteps drawing closer.

He was going to be saved, just as he realised that it was what he wanted the least.

"Hunt?"

Jim Keats.

He wasn't going to be saved then.

The footsteps grew louder as the younger men quickened his pace before falling roughly at Gene's side.

"Would you kindly mind pissing off, I'm trying to die here."

"So I can see."

Gene's brow furrowed deeply as he frowned and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore his new company.

Then a pair of cold hands met his face.

"No!" Gene's eyes opened in panic, his whole body wriggling as he tried to knock Keats away. "Don't you bloody dare!"

"I'm so sorry," The dark-haired man whispered, black eyes glinting hungrily. "I just can't stop myself."

Keats' words had barely left his mouth when a burning pain shot into Gene's brain, quickly spreading through his veins as a dark unstoppable fire. The excruciating flames devoured his every nerve ending, twisting and licking until he could barely remember a time when the pain had not been there. Without needing to look at Keats for confirmation, he knew exactly what was happening.

And it wasn't fucking fair. Not fair at all.

After all the years he had spent here! All the souls he had saved! He had done so much for everyone else, and what did all of his hard work get him? These torturous moments of pain as a fucking demon tried to drag him to hell!

Gene's ears were filled with the sounds of strained whimpers and harsh groans and it took him a while to realise that he was the one making them. A soothing cold hand caressed his cheek comfortingly as a low voice assured him it was all almost over. If Gene thought hard enough he could almost pretend it was Alex holding him close, trying to bring him comfort in his last few seconds.

He would never see Alex again. Never fight with her. Never kiss her. After everything they has been through he was left with only the memory of a kiss that was too short, too sad for his liking. So he clasped the reassuring hand on his face with his own trembling fingers, squeezing gently.

As though he had flicked a switch, all of the pain left his body, his lungs filled with fresh, crisp air, and his eyes snapped open wide in surprise.

Gene gazed at the sky in wonder, and a billion bright stars stared back sympathetically, twinkling like a pair of loving hazel eyes.

And Gene Hunt died.

Jim Keats squeezed the other man's lifeless hand uselessly, and rose to his feet, staring down at the dead man at his feet.

Keats had claimed another soul.

And he hated himself for it.

"Our wrongs remain uncertified,
And our souls won't be exhumed."

End Notes : Well, there you are!

It's my birthday on August 1st...you know, it would be a great gift to recieve some long reviews... ;)

But in all seriousness, please drop me a line or two to tell me what you thought of this. I really appreciate any feedback!

Have a nice day!