AN: This chapter contains a conversation regarding religion that may be considered negative in some ways. It can be skipped if you find the subject too distressing.

Torchwood: Divergence
Book Three: Rheoleiddiad

Chapter 45

Lunch had come and gone while Ianto slept, his body demanding rest to compensate for all the emotional trauma he'd suffered recently. Rift alerts had been few and easy to handle all morning, Gwen and Turlough automatically stepping in to deal with them before Jack could even ask. Martha had returned to the base around 11:00 am with positive news about the Davies family – they were grieving, but they were doing it together and trying hard to hold more to the good memories of their lost member rather than the horrors of the day before. Harkness had made a few private phone calls, then taken his lunch of soup back into the bedroom, glad when his partner had stirred enough to decline sharing it. He'd also been pleased to learn that City Council had demanded an impartial investigation of Buel's death and chosen the Medical Examiner from University Hospital to immediately perform the autopsy. Dr. Helen Baines didn't seem the type to pull any punches, and the truth would come out.

By mid-afternoon, Ianto was rested enough to want to be up and take a shower. So, the Captain happily joined him to be sure he didn't fall, and the two had finally emerged into the Hub afterward. The younger man still looked a little under the weather, but he was reasonably steady on his feet and now free of staples in his arm, though the wounds remained quite tender. The team was hesitant to offer any condolences about his niece, but eager to help him feel better nonetheless.

"Are you hungry?" Gwen asked solicitously as the young Welshman headed for the kitchenette. "There's leftover soup in the fridge and breadsticks on the counter."

"Coffee?" Ianto prodded hopefully, not surprised when the onetime constable shook her head. "Then I'd best remedy that."

The Archivist moved up the stairs, leaving Jack to nod reassuringly to the others before casually following in his footsteps. The American helpfully fielded a bowl and got some soup into the microwave for the younger immortal, popped a couple of breadsticks in at the end just to rewarm them slightly. The items went onto a tray with two fresh cups of coffee, a spoon and paper napkin, then he shooed the Changeling downstairs toward the couch and took charge of the lot.

"Coffee's done," Ianto called as he took a seat, Harkness presenting him with his meal before claiming the cushion beside him. "Main and side pot."

"Brilliant," Cooper grinned, then looked at the window that popped up on her main monitor. "Yes!"

Preliminary findings had just been released on Councilman Buel. His blood alcohol levels had still been well over legal limits even more than twenty-four hours after the incident, which was enough to hold him 100% responsible. And probable cause of death was being listed as "asphyxiation due to catastrophic respiratory failure induced by the copious aspiration of fluids from the digestive tract"… the bastard had drowned in his own alcohol laden vomit.

She sent the message to Turlough's station, gave Jack a meaningful look and nodded toward the screen, then went to fetch a cup of coffee. When she returned, the Captain was just stepping away from her area and gave her an approving smile. There would be justice after all.

"Something wrong?" Ianto queried as his partner resumed his seat.

"Something right," Harkness countered, sipping his coffee. "There was a concern earlier that Councilman Buel wouldn't be held accountable for his actions yesterday."

"Because he's dead?" the twenty-six-year-old asked bluntly, every team member in the area suddenly staring at him. "Shadows at Death's Door, remember? The Scieron told me earlier and promised he'd find his eternity in the Dark pretty horrifying after the nasty chase they put him through on his way there."

"Remind me not to get on their bad side," Turlough commented from his station. "Original ME was claiming aneurysm and medical exemption from liability. Jack had Gwen convince City Council to demand an ME not friends with Buel's barristers and that initial report just put the blame right back where it belongs."

"You went for the 'cover-up conspiracy' angle with his Council opponents, yeah?" Ianto asked the man next to him on the couch, still slowly eating his soup. "It's what I would've done."

"And here we were being so careful not to say anything and upset you," Jack nodded, a self-deprecating smile on his face. "I forgot your Shadows would have told you. Kind of surprised they went to the trouble of playing Wild Hunt on his way through the Door though."

"He's not the first," the young Welshman half shrugged. "Won't be the last. They get really frustrated with some individuals in this Universe, the ones who do harm and don't care about the consequences. They can't always take a hand in matters if they don't have an active Guardian present there. But they don't hesitate to harrow the souls of the offenders when they die. With Buel, they took offense at the misery his actions caused me and treated him accordingly."

"The fact that they've done it before explains why so many races have similar lore about what Earth's humans call The Wild Hunt," the redhead across the room nodded. "Makes perfect though very scary sense."

"So, the tales about Death's Horned Huntsman and his Hellhound pack running down the souls of the dead," Gwen frowned. "Is actually the Scieron?"

"Originally the stories spoke of vengeful Shadows," Harkness pointed out. "At first the Shadows were described as having the form of a horned creature of the Otherworld, that set their pack of spectral hounds on those who harmed the Earth at the behest of ancient Druid and other pagan religions. Then they were said to run down and punish the spirits of the wicked, to send them to an eternity of suffering for their crimes and misdeeds that went unanswered for in life. But as Christian based and other single god religions gained power, the tales changed. The Hunt was now the dark weapon of their 'God', sent to devour the souls of the unbaptised, the pagan worshippers, and infidels. And finally, it was dismissed all together as heathen fantasy. Now that I know the truth, I'm not overly surprised by the fact that it's really the Scieron… or that they were vilified in later years to further the agenda of various doctrines."

"Organised single deity religions tend to do that to anything they can't explain or control, to make themselves seem virtuous and more appealing to the uneducated masses," Ianto commented quietly, finishing his soup and sitting back with his coffee. "Must be why I've pretty much avoided them all as much as possible as an adult. Way too manipulative and self-serving for me. I refused to remain an altar boy at nine after the retiring vicar got uncomfortably handsy, and stopped letting Mom drag me to church when I was sixteen… two of the very few things Dad backed me up on. I mean, I really tried to be properly faithful when I was little, but the older I got, the less sense it all made without any tangible proof. And the church elders were always so livid when I'd ask questions. It just started to strike me more as brainwashing to enforce certain behaviours and make excuses for questionable ones than actual spiritual guidance or moral fortitude. And now I know a lot of it through the ages has just been various alien races meddling as a way to control the planet's human populations."

"So, when you say things like 'thank God' or 'for Christ's sake'," Cooper said carefully, gazing at her young countryman with raised brows. "They mean nothing to you?"

"Learned references and expletives," her co-worker explained evenly. "Most people use them regardless of their denomination or lack thereof, because they've grown up hearing the adults around them say the words. What about you, Jack. Are you a 'believer'?"

"Not even remotely," the Captain admitted candidly. "Honestly, where I grew up, we had a small group of 'gods' people called on, and they were mostly related to nature and didn't translate beyond our lonely little planet. But I say the same things, mostly out of habit and likely for the reason you just gave. Especially saying 'God' instead of 'gods' at times. Because in all my travels, I've never encountered anything to make me think there's an all-powerful being guiding the Universe unseen. Closest I've ever come to anything that could manage it, are the Vortex Dwellers like the one that fixed things after the Undertaker's Gift. And truthfully, aside from rare occasions like that, they have no interest whatsoever in our plane and wouldn't bother. Plus, we know first-hand that the Scieron can do a lot, but clearly have limits."

"And I think it's safe to say," Ianto added quietly. "That anyone who was devout to any doctrine and survived the Battle of Canary Wharf, became a hard-line non-believer not long after. Because there wasn't exactly any kind of Divine intervention happening there, just Gallifreian. Add the fact that we know 'Hell' is just another dimension outside our own realms of Time and Space, and that if 'Heaven' even exists it's probably the same kind of plane glimpsed through a past rift or portal. If the dead somehow get beyond the Dark, it may simply be a case of transference through that portal, since energy can change but never be destroyed. Regardless, it doesn't lend a whole lot of credence to most non-elemental based religions. Especially since the 'One God' followers stole bits from everyone else's belief systems that came before them and just changed the names to suit their new narratives."

"Then neither of you have any faith in a higher power," Gwen surmised, seeming more than just slightly disappointed and edging into irritated. "You don't believe in miracles, or mortal sin, or any of that."

"Are we about to have a religious debate?" Jack asked with raised brows, noting the woman's darkening frown when he and his partner both gave a negative head-shake in response to her comment.

"No," the former constable across the room denied hurriedly, her expression changing completely. "I was mostly just curious. Wasn't quite expecting the answers I got, but it actually explains so much."

"She says with an overly innocent look on her face," Ianto half-smiled. "I think we're being judged for our life choices."

"I never!" Cooper protested, not sure if he was serious.

She looked from him to Jack, received identical disappointed looks. Then the older man dissolved into laughter and she knew they were just taking the piss.

"Oh, you're starting to feel better alright," Gwen chuckled, feeling a mix of relief and irritation.

Ianto gave her another tiny smile and sipped his coffee. Yes, he was improving, but it was also obvious that he wasn't anywhere near 100% yet. The team concentrated on their work for several minutes, all of them hoping that the last half hour or so was a sign that things were finally on the up-swing.

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AN: I apologise if the discourse about religion offends anyone. Honestly though, I don't see long time Torchwood agents as being 'believers' as they've seen and experienced too much to take anything on pure faith or believe in a 'higher power' anymore. (Of course that is purely my personal take on things.) And the arguments presented are a mish-mash of many (MANY) I've seen in a plethora of forms in years past.

It is horrifically hot where I am, and it is doing incredibly unpleasant things to me and my computer.

Your continued patience and support is greatly appreciated.

Thank you to those reading the story. And thank you to those who have followed, favourited, and reviewed. NM