Disclaimer: I do not own Lucifer, but I am grateful to Neil Gaiman for creating the character.

Author's Note: Hi, everybody! I'm back, at long last. There are definitely spoilers from Season 3, but I tried to keep the references to Season 4 to a minimum. I got the initial idea for this after watching the first three episodes of Season 4, but those who have read the original novel The Phantom of the Opera might notice where I drew some inspiration as well. This is a scene I'd like to see in the series, but I've left the timing a bit vague on purpose. I know a few things don't fit in with successive episodes, but I decided to leave some of the inconsistencies because it's kind of an alternate scene anyway. It definitely happens while Chloe is still struggling with accepting Lucifer as the Devil.

Confession is Good for the Soul

Lucifer sat in the darkened penthouse, listlessly picking out a tune on the piano. No matter what happened, it seemed the Devil was always fated to be alone. Lucifer sighed, rallying himself not to succumb to depression. He rose from the piano bench to pour himself a drink.

The elevator reached his floor, and the doors slid open. Lucifer turned to face it, a bit warily. He'd had far too many uninvited guests of late. Perhaps he should require key card or code access to reach the penthouse. It wouldn't stop any of his siblings from dropping in unannounced, but he had long ago given up trying to prevent them from invading his privacy. Detective Decker stepped into the room, looking uncertain.

"Hello, Lucifer," she greeted.

"Detective," he returned. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" He thought he did a passable job of keeping any bitterness out of his voice. A part of him was happy to see her, as he always was, but there was also pain at the knowledge that she was unable to accept all of him, as he was. He'd continued to work with her, partly because he couldn't bring himself to stay away and partly because he didn't want to face the possibility that she would be in danger without him there to protect her. Besides, he'd found that he was unwilling to abandon Ms. Lopez, for whom he'd developed an unexpected affection.

"Look, I'm really trying to work on…all this," she made a vague gesture that was obviously meant to encompass her realization of his true nature and everything that had passed between them since. "I have a few questions, if that's okay."

"Of course, Detective. I told you, I'm happy to answer any questions you may have." Lucifer walked to the sitting area and motioned to the detective to sit down. She selected a place on a sofa. He sat in a chair across from her and looked at her expectantly. She took a moment to collect herself, then looked directly into his eyes.

"Lucifer, first of all, I know that I've hurt you, and I'm sorry. I want you to understand that I never meant to do that."

Lucifer hesitated before responding. He had always known – or at least suspected – that she would have difficulty adjusting to the truth of his identity. That was, after all, the reason he'd put off the revelation for so long. He'd been afraid of frightening her off, yet he also knew it would be wrong to deepen their relationship without her knowing the truth. Anyway, if he were honest with himself, he was certain that he'd hurt her multiple times without realizing it.

"I…believe you," he answered finally. The detective's posture relaxed a little, and she looked a bit more at ease.

"Okay. First question – why doesn't your eye thing work on me? I've seen it work on everyone else you've tried it on."

"Well, that's a bit of a mystery," answered Lucifer, leaning back in his chair. "It might be related to the reason I'm vulnerable around you, but I suspect it has something to do with you being a miracle baby."

"A miracle baby?" The detective stared at him blankly. "What do you mean?"

"Detective, did your parents ever tell you that they had difficulty producing a child?"

"Well, yes." She frowned. "They said they had to wait a long time for me. Wait. You mean…?"

"Yes," Lucifer confirmed her unspoken thought. "Dad sent His favored son, my brother Amenadiel, to bless your parents and grant them a child – you. Your conception was God-touched, which might be enough for you to resist my talent."

Detective Decker just sat there for a moment, digesting this new information.

"But…why them? Why me?" she asked finally.

"Ah, so many of Dad's chosen have asked that very question, and I can't answer it completely. However, at the risk of sounding self-absorbed, I believe Dad made sure you were born a few decades before I would decide to build a life here in Los Angeles, then nudged things to make sure our paths crossed." Lucifer sighed. "Do you have any idea how incredibly frustrating it is to have a Father who literally knows everything?"

"I can't even imagine." The detective rubbed her temples. "So you're saying that God wanted us to meet?"

"I can't prove it, but I think so, yes."

"But…why?"

"On that, Detective, your guess is as good as mine," responded Lucifer. "I've been thinking about it for months, and I haven't reached a definite conclusion. Cosmic matchmaking scheme? Something I'm supposed to learn, be, or do? Or was it just to motivate me to keep you alive for something greater?"

The detective sat back into the sofa, mulling things over. At last, she shook her head.

"I really hope it's not that last one," she said. "That sounds terrible."

"What? That my Father would use me as a tool in his grander plan? If you haven't noticed, that's kind of what He does. To all of us."

Detective Decker opened her mouth to say something, then appeared to think better of it. When she spoke again, it was to change the subject.

"What was your real relationship with Charlotte Richards? I mean, she obviously wasn't your stepmother."

"Ah, yes. Well, that's a bit complicated." As briefly as he could, without leaving anything important out, he explained how the real Charlotte had died and had her body possessed by the Mother of all Creation, who had escaped from Hell – that last part required a tangent on the history of his parents' relationship. He finished with how he'd sent his Mother to another world and Charlotte's soul had returned to her body, giving her a second chance at life.

During the recitation, the detective leaned forward, finally moving up to kneel in front of him and laying a hand on his arm.

"All these things you were going through, and I had no idea," she said gently. "I'm sorry I wasn't really there for you."

"You were there as much as you could be, under the circumstances," he responded, a little distracted. Remembering how he'd used the Flaming Sword to open a portal to another world had reminded him of something else he'd done with the blade, a deed far less noble.

Lucifer didn't want to tell the detective about that, especially now that they seemed to be making progress, but he knew he had to. If she learned to accept him totally, devil-face and all, but that large secret still lay between them, it would eat away at him.

"Detective…Chloe," he began haltingly. "There is one other thing I need to tell you."

She took a long, slow breath and resumed her seat on the sofa before saying, "Okay." He couldn't look at her, staring at the floor as he began his confession.

"I told you that Pierce – Cain, that is – was the first human I've ever killed. That's true. It's forbidden for an angel to kill a human, and I'd always observed that rule before. However, he's not the first being I've killed. A few months ago, I killed my brother Uriel." He paused to let that sink in. The detective remained silent, waiting for him to continue. It was a tactic he recognized from the interrogation room, but that didn't make it any less effective now.

"I didn't mean to kill him," he continued, throat tightening. "I only wanted to stop him. Maybe there was another solution, something else I could have done. I only had a moment to make a decision, so I made one. I'm sorry." He wasn't quite sure to whom he was apologizing, but he felt the need to say it anyway. The detective continued her silence for a time, and he didn't dare to look up and see her reaction.

"What did you want to stop him from doing?" she finally asked softly.

"He was going to kill you." At this, Lucifer risked a glance up to her face. There was no judgment or recrimination in her face, only curiosity mixed with something he couldn't quite identify.

"You just said it's forbidden for an angel to kill a human," she pointed out. "He was willing to break that rule?"

"It was a bit of a loophole in his case. He wouldn't have done it directly. You see, each of us – my siblings and I – have a unique gift. I can draw people's desires out of them, Amenadiel can slow time, and Uriel could see patterns in everything. All he had to do was pull a thread to set a series of events in motion that would result in your death. It might have been a tragic accident, hazard of the job – anything, really."

"Wow, that's…" she trailed off, shaking her head. "It was still a big risk. Why did he want me dead?"

"He went rogue. He was convinced that you were holding me here on Earth. He thought if I lost you, I'd behave and go back to Hell."

"But your Father would have known what really happened."

"Of course." Lucifer rubbed a hand across his face. "The worst part is, I killed him with a divine Sword. It destroyed his soul at the same time it took his life. There will be no afterlife for him. My brother is completely gone, because of me." His eyes burned as he choked out the last words, and he wondered how many times he'd been close to tears in the last six weeks. Whatever it was, the number had to be approaching the ridiculous. Suddenly, it was simply too much trouble to hold back any longer. He stopped fighting and began to weep, bowing his head.

Lucifer had never taken the time to grieve for his brother. While he and Uriel had never been close, they were still brothers, and the loss of an angel should never be taken lightly. Grief and remorse got the tears started, but Lucifer had been dealing with a lot of things lately – foremost among them his confusion, fear, and uncertainty regarding the future of his relationship with Chloe. Those emotions fueled his outpouring, turning the initial silent tears into audible sobbing.

"Lucifer," Chloe whispered during this, and he heard her move close to him. To his surprise, she pushed past his arms to sit sideways across his lap, leaning her cheek against his head. He clung to her, grateful for the support. When warm liquid began dropping onto his hair and face, he realized that she was crying with him. He didn't know what motivated her tears, but he found it a very moving and cathartic experience.

After an indefinite length of time, he'd finally cried himself out and began to pull back carefully. Responding to his movement, Chloe raised her head and withdrew enough that they could focus on each other's faces. Lucifer pulled the ever-present handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to her. She dabbed at her eyes and nose, then folded the cloth to offer him a clean spot. He wiped his face and tucked the handkerchief away.

"Sorry," he apologized. "I'd no idea I was holding that much in."

"It's okay," she said, shaking her head. "It's starting to seem like the only truly bad things you've done were to protect me. Maybe I'm a bad influence."

"That is certainly not true," he returned, as emphatically as he could manage. He reached up and gently pushed back a lock of hair that had fallen into her face. "You are the first person in the history of the universe to get me to think of someone else ahead of myself. That's not a bad thing. It's excruciatingly painful at times, but not bad."

Chloe gave a watery laugh at that, then studied him intently for a while, shifting her position so she was only sitting on one knee. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, as though steadying herself. Then she looked straight at him.

"Show me," she commanded. Lucifer blinked at her in confusion.

"I'm sorry; show you what?" he asked.

"The face," she clarified. "Show me the other face."

Lucifer furrowed his brow, struggling to keep up with the change in direction. She wanted to do this now?

"Are you sure?" he inquired nervously, searching her face.

"Yes. I'm ready. Please."

"Very well." He concentrated for a moment, bringing forth his devil-face. Chloe started at first, making him wince reflexively. However, he held the face, willing to let her do whatever she needed to.

"That was so fast," she remarked. "I expected some kind of transition." Her eyes roved across his face and scanned to the top of his head. He withstood her scrutiny silently, watching her study him.

She raised a hand hesitantly, reaching out to touch his jaw, and he couldn't stop a sudden intake of breath. Having her touch the face that normally triggered revulsion touched him in a way that went far deeper than the merely physical. He froze, not wanting to startle her or interrupt whatever she was doing. Her hand stroked up the side of his face and ran across the ridges and protrusions on top of his head. Finally, she cupped the side of his face, just below his ear, and gazed straight into his glowing eyes. While part of him wanted to look away, he resisted the impulse and held steady, staring right back.

"There you are," she said at last. "This face…it may be part of you, but it's not the real you."

"How do you know?"

"Because I know you. I know who you are and what you're capable of. I may have forgotten that for a while, and I'm sorry about that. I promise I will not make that mistake again."

Lucifer gaped at her, mystified and speechless by both her words and the intensity with which she spoke them. He dropped the devil-face and pulled her close.

"Thank you," he murmured into her hair, unable to find any additional words. As she returned his embrace, he felt better about himself and life in general than he had for quite some time.

Eventually, Chloe removed herself from his lap and gave a final swipe to her face and hair. Lucifer already felt oddly cold and empty with her no longer close to him. He watched silently as she gathered her coat and things and prepared to leave. Before heading to the elevator, she turned back to him.

"I just have one more question for tonight," she said. "Why have you been so focused on keeping me alive all this time?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Lucifer returned, gazing up at her earnestly. "When you die, you shall surely go to Heaven, the one place I cannot follow. For me to have a hope of being any part of your life at all, you must be here, on Earth."

Chloe just stared at him for a long moment, seeming genuinely nonplussed, which Lucifer found confusing. She was a detective after all; surely this hadn't been so difficult to conclude.

"Oh," she said at last, nodding a little, almost as if to herself. "Good night, Lucifer."

"Good night, Detective."

With that, she was gone, and Lucifer sat evaluating what had just happened. He didn't fully understand all of it, but it felt like he and Chloe had taken a big step of some kind. More than that, he felt…cleansed, somehow.

"So, Dad," he said aloud. "Is this what it feels like to be forgiven? Strange." There was no answer, of course; he hadn't really expected one. "I wonder, will You ever forgive me?" Lucifer paused, raising a hand to his own face, remembering the touch of Chloe's hand there. "Will I ever forgive myself?"

In an unusual moment of clarity, he knew that was a question he alone would have to figure out how to answer.

Author's Note: I did add a bit at the end after I finished watching the whole season. I hope you enjoyed it. I may have an idea for another chapter or two of this, so please let me know if you like it.