Featuring the Doctor and Cameca, as played by William Hartnell and Margot Van der Burgh in 'The Aztecs'

At night, the wind blew cold through the city, and away from the fires, the temple was icy. The Doctor would sneak away from the tales of bloodshed and glory, the memories of heroes and great feats and epic sacrifices to the angry Gods of these people, and stand with his cane in hand, and watch the city from the rooftop of the temple.

Susan, Ian and Barbara remained with their hosts during his sojourns, when he went to stare out at the canals and streets. They were abandoned by this time of night, the interiors of the houses glowing with firelight. Smoke wafted on the air, carrying with it the smells of cooked meats. It was beautiful, almost peaceful, and in the forest beyond the town he could hear animal cries.

He heard someone behind him, and he knew immediately by the cadence and rhythm of the footfalls who it was; they were steps that bore the same confidence and self-belief that he so admired in Barbara, with the assured strength and elegance that could only come with old age.

"Cameca, my dear," the Doctor said, and he felt his throat clench.

"Doctor," the ageing Aztec woman answered, appearing beside him from the darkness. She was beautiful, he had to admit; a strong nose, golden skin, long, thick hair. "It is a beautiful night."

"Yes," the Doctor agreed, "it is. I get so few beautiful nights, do you know, hmm? Beneath the stars like this. So peaceful."

"Every night is peaceful here," Cameca replied.

The Doctor scoffed. "Somehow, I don't believe that."

"Oh, but they are. They all are," she said, and he heard the desperation in her voice. "We fight during the day, Doctor. At night, we stop. We feast and recollect. It's always so quiet in the evening."

"You don't like it, hmm?" the Doctor asked, turning to her.

Cameca frowned for a moment. "No."

"Then why speak of its virtues so?"

"Because you like it, Doctor," Cameca replied, and he heard a sadness in her voice that echoed his own.

The Doctor found himself taken with the desire to touch her arm, to remind her that she wasn't alone, but restrained himself. "Even your stories are of bloodshed, of horror. Always of war."

Cameca shrugged. "It is our way. Is it really so different from yours, Doctor?"

The Doctor couldn't help but smile; he remembered the Daleks, he remembered Marinus, Marco Polo and Elbyon. "No. I suppose, in a lot of ways, it isn't. But that isn't why you're here, is it, dear? Hmm?"

Cameca's expression hardened for a moment. "You see through me, Doctor."

"There are worse things to be than transparent," the Doctor assured her.

"You're right, Doctor. The bloodletting, the war. It must stop. I can see that, and there are others who can, too. You're one of them."

The Doctor looked away, back to the city. His jaw twitched, ever so slightly. "Hmm."

"You could stay. Help change things. You could do so much."

The Doctor shook his head, and looked at Cameca with a hint of sadness. "I can't. I have a responsibility to my friends, and to my granddaughter." He opened his mouth, and was about to say something more, but he simply turned away, and set off back inside the temple.

Cameca didn't follow.

"It's going to end soon," Cameca said behind him, looking down over the city. "All of this. It's going to end, isn't it?"

The Doctor sighed, and stepped behind her. Gently, he touched the small of her back. "Everything ends, my dear. All things have their turn in life, and then in death. The sun always sets, and it will always rise. Some day, you will see your last sunrise, your last sunset, and so will I. So will the city. So will the world. All things end, and all things die, but in the meantime, there's something you can't deny, about all of that, and about you."

He took a deep breath, and surveyed the land stretched out before him.

"You can't deny that it's beautiful, hmm?"

He slipped away, then, not bothering to use his cane; he heard Cameca's soft sobs, and fought to hold back tears of his own.