Their First Elevator

Fandom for Texas Wildfire Relief

Beta: Katmom

Disclaimer: This is a work of derivative fiction. All things Twilight are the property of Stephenie Meyer and/or her assignees. I make no claim of copyright to anything herein. I write merely to entertain myself and others and receive no personal compensation.

Written for the Texas Wildfire Relief Compilation.

Chicago, 1908

Oh, yes, my Edward... So good...

More than two thousand years had passed among the mortals, but Edward never tired of hearing the beautiful thoughts of his Isa. After her change, her thoughts were even more elusive, like the butterfly he had likened them to, long ago. Intimacy sent her language back to the tongue she had used when they first came together. The language now dead in Western Germany, but spoken by the two of them.

Afterward, in their small dwelling in Chicago in the United States of America, The Emrys rolled his Isa up next to him, nuzzling her hair. Her scent was no less beguiling now than it had been when he had known her as a human. She still smelled of wildflowers, but also of himself, which made his chest rumble with a satisfied purr.

"I love you," he said on a breath.

Her lips brushed the skin of his shoulder. "As I love you."

With the lightening of the sky outside their window, they rose from their bed to start the day anew. She brushed his suit – one of charcoal-gray wool – and checked the security of the buttons on his shirt before laying out his stiff collar.

Edward smiled wryly at the clothing now presented on the bed. "With all the modern conveniences I hear of," he remarked, "modern clothing is entirely inconvenient."

"Roman robes were much easier," Isa agreed. "Livy said once to me that a woman's clothes were her badges. I certainly enjoyed creating new tunics." She had met many people now counted as famous and enjoyed reading much of their work, as her immortality had required focus. She had also enhanced her sewing abilities so that she became a seamstress of some note. And her lace – lace that supernaturally adept fingers could create – was noted in Europe as well as the United States of America. They had a man of affairs see to their finances. He was well-paid. Having seen to her husband's working clothing, Isa turned to the cupboard that held her own. Smiling, she showed Edward her day gown. "This? This is far too complicated."

"Indeed. Too many layers," he tagged on with a grin.

Oh, your smile.

He could see how Isa's eyes focused on his lips and he gave thanks – as he did daily – for the blessing that she was to him. "I have a surprise for you."

Everything about her perked up, and Edward was struck anew with all that their long, long relationship had given to him and required from them both. Lush sable hair reached her hips when it was free – no one had cut it before she had wed him, so long ago – framing her face and torso. Her eyes were dark, almost her human brown, today. He would never forget their warmth. And her body – well, his wife sparked lust in the minds of every male he had ever met, over the millennia she had walked the earth.

She had not used to like surprises, after her change. Unprepared, terrified, his wife had not reacted well when he had tried to make her happy with gifts. After the horror she had experienced to become a blood-drinking immortal, Isa wanted to be notified in advance of every little thing.

He could not blame her. He had not. He had only himself to blame for her distress. At first, almost everything had struck her as a surprise. Thankfully, he had been able to hear her thoughts and was reassured that her love for him had only grown stronger, though her newly-created state made her so unsettled.

She smiled at him, still holding the gown she would wear to meet with a society matron. She had an appointment today with Mrs. Edward Masen to commission several ensembles for the winter. "A surprise?"

"Indeed. I will meet you at the Masens' home this afternoon and you will see it."

I cannot wait! Her thoughts roamed over other surprises as the two of them dressed for the day. Ice skating. Cliff jumping into a tropical ocean. Meeting Leonardo da Vinci. Edward smilingly dwelt in her mind as he helped her button up the back of her gown and as she did her best to flatten his hair. It was still as unruly as ever, but in their current time and place, it was deemed unseemly. And he had to make good impressions that morning.

Into the overcast day they went, his wife carrying an umbrella over her arm just in case the clouds melted away. Even immortals did not have the ability to predict the weather. He saw her to the door of the Masen home, which was in an upper-class neighborhood, having already checked out the area shortly after dark the night before. On the corner of its street, the building was constructed partly of concrete and partly of brick. Concrete, of course, had been around since the Romans made the aqueducts – a feat that had astounded Edward personally – and it made for remarkably sturdy constructions.

The morning being well on its way, many locals were out and about. Going to the shops was something Edward had not accustomed himself to doing but it would be necessary. Thoughts assailed him, like annoying rodents.

Cobbler needs to quit drinking. These boots are worse than the last pair.

That cretin! How rude!

I hope the doctor is available. I don't think he can make another trip today. "Alexander? Are you all right, sweetheart?"

"Fine, Mother."

Curious about the health of the boy, Edward was interested to see that the mother, her face drawn, was thinking about a man who was, to Edward's excellent understanding, clearly a vampire. This put him on alert and Edward paused quite briefly as one of the brand new automobiles rattled past him. So slow, it was.

He swore, but no one heard him. If he didn't proceed immediately to see the fellow about the automobile, he would lose that opportunity for some time, leaving him only his final surprise for his dearest Isa. Still, that boy. Alexander. He remembered the young man that history called Alexander the Great. Edward met him, at one point, and felt quite sorry for him. Already, the great king and conqueror had been very ill. With his superior senses, the Emrys had discovered the problem. Isa had tried to persuade the warrior to heed her husband, but Alexander had only wanted to bed them both.

He was flexible, that way. Edward and Isa were not.

From that century to this, Edward had always held a soft spot for boys named after the young conqueror.

Coughing in a human manner, Edward sidled up nearer the boy and pretended to drop a few coins from his pocket. "Pardon me," he murmured, bending down and inhaling deeply. Oh, yes. The boy's heart beat unevenly and his body's odors had a distinctive, unhealthy tang. Many humans stank, but the smells were often such as Edward himself had existed among for a full millennium. Just the normal body odors of dirt and sweat and sometimes bad feet or bad teeth. But this boy, this Alexander, was ill.

He had bent down, though, the boy did. "Here, sir. Ya dropped 'em." His smile was full – so young that he had not yet begun to lose his milk teeth.

And the woman was taking him to a vampire? One of the blood-drinking immortals?

No.

Edward decided, with the smile the child offered him, that he would protect the boy. And his mother.

Having memorized their scents, he bid silent farewell to the viewing of the automobile and instead tracked the mother and son down the crowded streets, through one of Chicago's shopping districts. Humanity surrounded him, pulsing, their thoughts crying out for attention, but Edward had his cause and he would pursue it.

The vampire posing as a physician – for really, could a blood-drinker be truly a healer? – did not reside or practice in a hospital, apparently. White-blond Alexander and his haggard mother wove through the mass of beating hearts, the sweeping skirts, the calling vendors who wished to sell newspapers and vegetables. Bakers and haberdashers had their places, too, but the Emrys was tracking two particular humans and he paid the others no heed.

Down a noisome alley which reminded him of London in the sixteenth century. Up a flight of wooden steps far from the decorous frontage of the main streets. Edward hung back, listening for the distinct tenor of vampiric voices and thoughts.

And he found one!

Ah, it's Mrs. Kirk. And Alexander. Of course. Yes. I think I've got the tonic here, but it should be sweetened with licorice. It won't truly help, though. What he needs is an invasive procedure. I wonder if I could get them into the hospital? Images of human anatomy flew through the other immortal's mind and Edward stood almost transfixed. Unlikely as it had seemed, the vampire in that small room at the top of the stairs was indeed a physician. At least in understanding.

Hiding in the doorway of another room down the half-exposed corridor, Edward focused on the room and on the uncertain heartbeat of a small boy.

Mama is so scared. Mama is so scared. Mama is so scared.

Edward grimaced at the predominant concern in the boy's mind. Did a purer heart exist among mortals than that of a child?

"Hello, Alexander. Mrs. Kirk. How are you feeling today?" No, his scent is still off. And his heart is not doing well. And his breathing. Something is roughening it. If only I could –

After a quick exam that merely soothed Mrs. Kirk while the lad's thoughts dwelt on the smell of the tonic the doctor offered, the immortal physician was giving instructions. Edward moved in. Just in case.

But no thoughts of bloodlust did he detect. This was astonishing.

Oh, dear. One of us? I must protect the boy, I must protect his mother. There is no other door. Perhaps they won't act if I am forward enough. I could light a fire, yes. Protective and a weapon. I would not wish to hurt one of my kind, but of course to preserve the life of my patient, I would threaten to do so. "May I make you some tea, Mrs. Kirk? The day looks to be quite bleak, even yet." A fire was laid in the small hearth. The physician lit a match. It had a white tip and smelled – ah, phosphorus, of course. Edward was familiar with the eerily easy ways with which men lit fires.

I don't want to owe him anymore. He looked odd there, for a moment. Best to take the tonic and tisanes and go – "No, no thank you, Dr. Cullen. I need to be getting out to the markets, for dinner. Thank you so much. I – we will do our best to pay for the –"

The other one is still here. I have to keep her safe! "Mrs. Kirk. Nothing to worry about. You just take care of that young man, there." Alexander's shy smile was the focus of the physician's thoughts and Edward wondered if the other vampire could be that bad.

Edward braced himself to defend the helpless humans – the charming child – as he heard everyone's thoughts turning toward the humans' imminent departure. Steps sounded on a thin floor. The boy coughed a bit, the noise of it partially muffled against his hand, it sounded like. The knob turned on the door.

"Thank you again, Doctor."

"You're welcome. Have a safe trip home," the physician replied.

The door opened; the boy – perhaps guided by some instinct – looked about and found Edward almost immediately, offering him a shy smile and a nod. Edward tried to return them in kind, but his tension was almost too great to do so credibly.

The humans left immediately, in any event, leaving Edward facing the physician. He moved to confront him, apprehension tightening his muscles and further heightening his immortal senses.

Their gazes clashed and two mouths dropped open in surprise.

"Your eyes," they said with eerie simultaneity.

Golden! I haven't seen anyone like this before. Except for Kate and her family. Gold. Well, that's a relief. I wonder how he learned? I wonder how long?

"Pardon me for intruding," Edward said slowly as the physician dissected his own thoughts. "I was concerned for the boy."

"He's quite ill." The physician had hair brighter than sunshine. "Pardon me, but I have questions."

Edward grinned. "I know. Shall we go indoors?"

"Yes." Where was he changed? Does Aro know him? Does he have a companion? How long has he remained hidden from my knowledge?

The list of questions continued and Edward actually chuckled. "You should meet my wife."

"You are married?" Longing pushed all other thoughts briefly from the forefront of the other immortal's mind. "I have so many questions," he said again.

Moving at human speeds, the two returned to the physician's rooms. "I am Carlisle Cullen. I've lived here in Chicago for six months."

"I am called Edward. At this time, I am Edward Rivers." He had chosen this name as something unexceptional that did not say anything about his creator. He had once gone by Stefanson, but that had somehow got back to his sires in Europe and he and Isa had had to leave precipitously. "My wife is named Isa. She sometimes is called Isa Bella," he added with a smile. Isabella was an unexceptional name, and his wife was certainly bella - meaning beautiful.

"And you feed from animals?"

"Yes. I have not chosen to do otherwise since – oh, since long before I met my Isa. I hunted as a human, so hunting again as an immortal was the only thing that occurred to me once I had been changed."

"Who changed you? And when?"

In the man's mind, Edward could see the doctor's own change – an unknown figure in a dark place, terror, self-burial for a time, silence. He did not speak to the thoughts, however. "I was changed by the pair that is now in charge of the Romanian Coven in Europe. Stefan and Vladimir. I do not know the year of it, but it was before the boundaries of Europe were drawn. Before the languages of humans changed. Before the man the humans call the Christ came to the world."

The doctor's expression and thoughts communicated speechless surprise.

Carlisle Cullen invited Edward to sit down in an armchair by the still-burning fire. Edward shook his head with a smile. "I would like to exchange news and information, but I have to figure out how to accomplish something for my wife, today."

"Oh?"

"I was going to see a human about an automobile. They are new and we have never been transported in one."

"How long has your wife been one of us? Did you meet her as – as one of us? Or before?"

Edward sobered, for he would always regret the manner in which he had had to change his Isa into a blood-drinking immortal. Not that he regretted a single day of their co-existence, but he would have liked to have had her choose it directly rather than have it thrust upon her due to his own ill-considered strength. "I wed her when she was human. I changed her myself." He did not wish to go into details. "We have been together for more than two thousand years. And she likes to experience new things."

Carlisle's mind burst in a flare of excitement. "I know of something new. It's like flying. Come, you tell me about your travels and I will take you to see an elevator."

"A what?"

"An elevator. It takes you from one floor to another in a tiny chamber. It is like floating. No steps, no lifting. It is all done by machines. Pulleys and steel cables."

Imagination caught, Edward felt a smile pulling at his lips. "Oh? Is there one of these marvels near?" Humans were often afraid of new experiences and ideas, but there were few things on the earth that frightened The Emrys. Flying? Isa would be ecstatic.

They left the physician's chambers, exchanging stories as they walked through the streets of Chicago. Carlisle Cullen had been changed in the 1600's – he was an infant, as Edward reckoned time. He had met and stayed with the now-ruling coven in Italy. Edward's own sires had hated Aro di Volterra, something that no doubt still held true.

"They were quite civilized. Have you met them?" Likely not, since they had not mentioned knowing anyone with golden eyes when I was there.

Edward shook his head a little. "No. We heard of them, but stayed clear of their stronghold. Isa and I have wanted only to make our way as quietly as possible."

"Well, you've certainly been successful," Carlisle Cullen remarked. "I've never heard of you, and I've kept my eyes open for others of like dietary preferences over the years."

"I've had a fair amount of practice," Edward acknowledged.

"Ah, there we are. The Rookery Building." Carlisle nodded toward an enormous edifice across the road. Of course, many buildings in this vast hub of humanity were large, but this one seemed to be entirely overwhelming. "Here, Mr. Rivers, you will find your elevator."

"It seems almost to scrape the sky," Edward whispered. "The windows. So much glass..." The Emrys counted nine rows of windows, plus another on the ground floor. All of them surrounded by stone and steel. "And one can fly in there?"

Carlisle grinned, for all the world like a little boy himself for the moment. "There is an elevator. A renowned architect, Frank Lloyd Wright – perhaps you've heard of him?"

"No."

"No matter. He was commissioned to redesign parts of the building and the talk of it was all over town He only finished last year." The good doctor moved forward, but Edward held back. "What?"

"I must see this for the first time with my wife," he murmured. "I would not want to experience this without her."

Oh, I do understand. I wish I had that bond with someone. I do. "Of course," was what he said. Would he allow us to be introduced, his wife and I? I wonder. It has been so long since I've seen anyone of our kind.

Sensing absolutely no threat from this most unusual of immortals, Edward slid his hands into his pockets as he had seen the human-imitator before him do. Really, Carlisle Cullen was more human than any immortal he had ever met. "If you are free this afternoon, I would like to introduce you to my Isa," Edward said, still staring up at the building. He was not alone in this; many people were examining the structure, and some had art-boards out to sketch it. One fellow was even doing a painting.

"I would be honored," Dr. Cullen said, nodding almost as if he would bow. "She is an Ancient as well, isn't she?"

Edward had to laugh at that. "Do not say so to her!"

Joining him in his amusement, Carlisle made to move again and the two male vampires in Chicago strolled once more among the humans. "No, I won't. Females are females, I have found."

"Yes. But yes, my Isa has been around a long time as well. She was complaining this morning about the current state of female fashion."

This led them to a conversation about the changes they had seen, with Carlisle learning a great deal from a relatively free-walking immortal than he had absorbed while ensconced in Volterra. They reached the residential neighborhoods in a short amount of time, navigating to the Masen establishment quickly.

Up the stone-paved steps to the front door, they knocked and waited. Inhaling, he caught his wife's scent and felt the subtle relief within his body as it recognized the proximity of his mate. It was an instinctive response, but one he never ceased to marvel over, no matter how many centuries he had experienced it. Missing his beloved, Edward closed his mind to all others as he sought her precious thoughts.

He saw the woman he knew to be Elizabeth Masen. Handsome, with a strong jaw and copper-hued hair arranged stylishly, the woman carried herself with pride.

"I like that color, yes. And I expect to need at least two mourning gowns, Mrs. Rivers," the woman was saying. "My husband's mother has been quite ill."

Nothing quite like anticipating trouble, Isa thought to herself.

The door opened and, after appropriate introductions, they were granted admittance by a servant.

The Masen home was quite ornate, very much in the recent English style. Dark woods, intricate carvings in the detailed wainscoting. Plush burgundy and deep blue upholstery, with gold and black in the Aubusson carpets that covered different parts of the floor that they could see from the entry.

Oh my Edward. You're here! A sighing, happy sound soughed through his Isa's mind. Is it time? We'll be done here, soon. Mrs. Masen is quite decisive.

The Masens had a proper butler, who treated them somewhat dismissively, looking down a snub nose in a way that was almost comedic. "Mrs. Masen is with the modiste," the fellow intoned, sounding nasal and affecting a British accent.

Poser, was Carlisle's thought. Only long-held discipline kept Edward from allowing himself to smile.

"We are quite willing to wait," he informed the butler.

You should be at the service entrance. But it would not do to offend a physician. One never knows.

With only the sketchiest of obeisances, the servant left them to their own devices, standing in the foyer. Not having been offered a chair, Edward forbore to sit. It wasn't as if he needed to, after all. And if the servant were trying to discomfit them by this neglect, he was far from the mark.

Edward watched as Isa took the final notes on preferred fabrics and trim, though he ducked out of her mind before the last of the measurements were taken. As delightful as he always found it in his wife's mind, he refused to intrude into intimate matters.

Then, with an appropriate amount of bother, Isabella Rivers, Modiste, was escorted to the front entrance. Eyeing the men with a jaundiced gaze, the butler delicately slipped Isa a small leather envelope. "From Mrs. Masen. She trusts her gowns will be completed in an expeditious manner."

Barbarian. As if he would think that he could direct – Edward's thoughts were halted when Isa calmly accepted the deposit on her work and thanked the poseur.

Edward, it is quite all right. Really, we have met with worse, have we not? I love you. And I am eager to meet the man with you.

Taking her arm in his, Edward gestured for the physician to lead the way out of doors, deciding to perform introductions away from the annoying servant.

"Isa, may I introduce you to Dr. Cullen, whom I met this morning? He has told me of the most wonderful surprise for you. Carlisle, this is my wife, Isa Rivers."

The ritual was performed at human speed in action, but a flurry of conversation occurred in the short space of time it took for the new acquaintances to shake hands.

Isa, being her curious self, tucked the leather wallet way into a mysterious fold of her gown and addressed the physician directly. "What is this surprise Edward speaks of?" Oh, my Edward, you are always so good to me. And this man! He has golden eyes! I am reassured as to the goodness of Man, seeing it. I have so many questions! Perhaps we can associate, while we are all in town?

Encouraged by her enthusiasm, Edward indicated Carlisle should share with Isa what he had already divulged as to the nature of the elevator.

Isa's thoughts were fluttering with the notion of being airborne, however indirectly. "Who could have imagined such a thing to carry someone? I have seen such constructions used to lift heavy objects, but – they are not completely reliable." She stopped in the flow of humanity and confronted the doctor. "Is this elevator safe? Will we be able to enter and leave it without suspicion?"

Carlisle took Isa's hand between his own. "I pledge my life on it, Mrs. Rivers."

Edward, he should call me Isa.

Edward patted her hand that remained in the crook of his arm as his way of telling her that he agreed.

"Is this The Rookery Building you spoke of?" Isa inquired as they stepped to the wide doors. Going inside, she looked around, her thoughts filled with awe. So light! So pretty! Look at the marble!

Carlisle appreciated her near-silent enthusiasm, seeming to understand that though she did not vocalize all her excitement, it was still there under the surface. Edward heard the longing thoughts that the physician let cross his mind before folding them away in a peculiar process, to focus on the building and the coming surprise.

"Here, you can see where the interior used to be very dark, but Frank Lloyd Wright," a name the doctor seemed to hold in ever-higher esteem, "brightened everything up with the light marble and the use of glass. The humans find it very modern with the geometric accents."

"Romans used geometric accents," Isa murmured.

"The more things change," Edward began.

"The more they stay the same."

Carlisle chuckled lightly. "And you two would know this better than I." His thoughts tended toward self-effacement and some vague embarrassment. He had been thinking of himself as quite worldly, apparently, due to the two-hundred-plus years he had walked the earth, imagining only the Volturi might be more experienced. His self-ideals were a bit shaken, but Cullen knew how to learn and move better than many. His mind was remarkably agile.

They crossed the floor, Isa smiling at the humans who made eye contact with her. For some reason, they found her more approachable.

"Here they are," Carlisle said, waving with one hand at the metal doors in front of them. "I'll just push this button, here, and it will call for the operator to lower the car for us."

Us? Isa wondered, sounding a bit dismayed. Oh, Edward. I was hoping this would be – well, if there is an operator, it cannot be a private thing, can it? Sorry. I love you and I hope you know how excited I am to be seeing this elevator work!

The door opened. A liveried fellow within, wearing a black cap with a red band around it atop his freckled head, nodded in a sober manner. "Welcome to The Rookery Building. Going up?" The young man looked first to Edward.

He looks likely. Bets on the fifth floor.

Relieved, Edward decided that was a good enough cue. "Yes. Fifth floor, please."

Thin lips quirked in a smirk as the elevator operator stepped aside to allow them entrance. "Very good. Hold steady."

Edward ignored everything except the experience. A bit of worry as the doors shut in front of them, leaving them in a small, enclosed space with a human. Isa's face was alight with anticipation, her mind a colorful stream of wonder as a button was pushed and they could hear the various mechanical gears set in motion. A motor ground out somewhere and then, there was a quick jerk before they were lifted into the air.

Isa's lips parted. Edward! Edward! It is like flying upward. Oh, my Edward...!

The liveried fellow grinned broadly. "First time in an Otis, ma'am?" he asked with a nod to the circular image embedded in a wall that read Otis.

"Y-yes. It is."

"It's a smooth ride."

Oh, Edward... Isa's tone took on a new edge, a smoky-feeling curl that he knew meant she was stimulated. Edward felt his eyes darken marginally. Oh, Edward... He caught it, just at the edge of his awareness – the scent that was unique to his wife when she wanted to make love. It was more than just her sex, it was something about her entire fragrance that was enhanced at such times.

Clenching his free fist to establish some control over his own instinctive reaction to Isa's arousal, Edward made an effort to focus on the slow ascent of the box in which they stood. "Third floor, now," the operator said, his voice stiff.

Carlisle's thoughts touched lightly on his awareness of Isa's state. Appreciation, certainly – for which The Emrys could not and did not blame him in the least as his wife had had this affect on males without their participation for over two thousand years – that moved swiftly to the curiosity that might occur for humans in an elevator and would the experience have a beneficial effect on their states of mind.

Curious fellow, the physician.

"Fourth floor."

He could feel the continuous ascent, but Edward found that he could not focus on it, not with Isa pressing herself against him in a subtle manner. Just the way she had moved within the elevator compartment, so that her back was against his abdomen. Very smooth, she was. Practiced in the art of seducing her husband.

Her mind played its usual game of Tease The Emrys. She imagined the two of them alone, his back to the etched metal interior wall. She undid his tie and left his cellulose collar hanging open as she unbuttoned his shirt. Her tongue followed her fingers, even as she unfastened his trousers and unceremoniously took him into her mouth just as the elevator was rising. Imagination-Isa was quite rapid on disrobing him. She was also fond of how he tasted... In her mind, she wore what she had worn in Rome. The easy tunics and stola that she enjoyed creating. Soon, her imagination had him holding her against the wall, entering her fiercely as they flew higher in the elevator. Their mutual climax timed with a light dinging sound.

"Fifth floor."

They had arrived, and Edward was aroused to a state almost past bearing. He made a lightning-fast adjustment while probing the operator's mind for what came next. Oh, a gratuity. Of course. Coins in one pocket masked the secondary repositioning of himself.

Is all well, my Edward? Isa inquired smilingly, her face the image of innocence.

They both knew better. He cocked one brow at her after having been ushered off the elevator by the freckled operator.

Carlisle left them to their thoughts, stepping to the window to peer out over the groups and huddles of humanity on the street far below. But between The Emrys and his Isa, there was a sense of wonder that had nothing to do with their current height and everything to do with how they had arrived there.

That they broke the bed later that afternoon surprised him not at all.

"I wonder, my Edward, if we could someday have a permanent home with one of those elevators?"

He laughed and rolled her over to rest atop him. "For you, my dearest wife, I will find a way. Perhaps we can find that Frank Lloyd Wright fellow and put him to work."

The End

A/N: My thanks to everyone who has helped in any way toward contributing to relief for this fire-ravaged area. I have friends, there, and am very grateful.

~ LJ