A/N: Continuation of the 1989 movie "Blind Fury".

Protect Yourself

Nick Parker woke from the dream again.

Well, it was probably the same dream - at least the important part, since he didn't remember all of it. It was the feeling that haunted him like it did the other times.

Billy needed him.

Most other people would have wondered what time it was and looked at their watch, but Nick Parker didn't own a watch. Or a house to hang a clock in. Even if he had a watch, he wouldn't have been able to tell the time because most watches didn't tell the time in Braille.

Instead, he concentrated his working senses on what was around him. He felt the sun on his skin - that made it daytime, and the direction of the source was from the east, which meant it was morning. His nose told him that too, as the smell of frying bacon and pancakes wafting through the air shouted "BREAKFAST!" There wasn't anybody in the park making noise yet, so that also indicated it was the early. The exact time was unimportant; Nick was in Miami for one thing only, and he had timed his travels to be here on this specific day.

Strapping on his pack, he picked up his walking cane - which also contained a razor-sharp sword hidden inside - and started the final leg of his journey. After stopping and asking for directions once, he eventually found himself at the cemetery that was his destination.

The caretaker in the small office wasn't going to direct him to where he wanted at first. "I ain't no tour guide. Find it for yourself."

Nick took off his glasses; his blank eyes sometimes spoke more than words. "Thank you anyway; I guess I'll just start in the corner and work my around by touch." He took his cane and started tapping his way out.

"Wait!" the caretaker called after him. Nick paused and turned to listen; he could already sense the man's hesitation before he had said anything. "Look, we're not supposed to give out that information. But I don't want you puttin' fingerprints on all the headstones, so I'll take you there. What was the name again?"

"Devereaux; Lynn Devereaux."

"Let me look it up." He pulled out a large bound index and flipped a few pages before running his finger down the sheet. "Here it is. Lynn Devereaux. Wait for me outside while I lock the office and then I'll walk you there."

"Thank you; I'll wait outside with the patience of the dead."

"Uh, yeah." While Nick left and waited outside of the front door, the caretaker got his keys and stuck a 'Back in 10 minutes' sign on the door before locking it - Nick could tell by the sound that he locked both locks. He led Nick to the gravesite located in a newer section of the cemetery, and then left him so he could return to the office.

Nick crouched down by the simple headstone and felt the inscription.

Lynn Alice Devereaux
Devoted wife and mother
Born 14 May 1948
Died 7 June 1989

Nick addressed the stone as if it were a person. "You died protecting your son and ex-husband exactly three years ago. I regret not being able to save you at the time, but I got Billy to Reno to be with his father. It was a little complicated, but I was able to get Frank away from some bad men so he and Billy could be safe. You made me promise to protect your son and I did. He's a fine young boy, and I think he'll make a good man someday. I just wanted you to know that." He patted the headstone, not knowing exactly why he felt as though he had to come here, but glad that he did.

"What do you mean someday, Uncle Nick?" a voice said from behind him and at least twenty feet away.

Nick reviewed the voice in his head as he straightened. "Billy? Your voice has gotten deeper - have you taken up smoking?" he asked with a smile.

"I'm not a boy anymore," he said as he walked toward Nick.

"You're not quite a man yet, either. But you do sound like your dad when we served in Vietnam together. That was what, a century ago?"

"You know it was only twenty-three years ago, if what you told me was the truth."

"I always told you the truth. You deserve it. I guess we weren't much more than boys when we were there."

"I missed you," Billy said as he tugged lightly on Nick's jacket sleeve. Nick threw out his arms and Billy gave him a crushing hug.

Nick returned the hug, then put his hand on top of Billy's head. "You have gotten taller." He felt his arms. "And not fat, either. Good. I missed you, too."

"Aren't you going to ask me what I'm doing here?"

"Is it important?"

"Well, yeah!"

"Okay," Nick said before asking the question in a very formal, deep voice "What are you doing here, Billy?"

"Uncle Nick..." the boy began; for a moment it sounded like three years ago when he was thirteen.

"I'm sorry, Billy. Where's your dad? What about Annie?" When Nick had left them safe three years ago, Billy was leaving with Frank and his girlfriend Annie to start over in San Francisco.

"They're hiding. Claude MacCready has put a price on his head."

"MacCready got out of prison?" Claude had arranged to kill Lynn, and threatened Frank with Billy's life if he didn't produce a designer drug to be sold illicitly and bail out his bad business loans.

"No, he's still there. But he's got contacts, and they came after us. I don't even know where dad and Annie are, but I got a note that they're safe right now. I wanted to find you, and I felt that this would be a good place to look - especially today."

"You were right. Am I supposed to go after the bad guys again?"

"No; dad can take care of himself for now; he said he's where he can seem them coming. I want you to teach me how to protect myself."

"Oh. The best way is to never be where the bad guys are."

"But you can't always do that."

"Yeah, I guess so. What does you dad say? Or does he know?"

"He knows. He trusts you more than anyone else. He wasn't happy with me going out to look for you, but he knows he can't be there all the time for me either."

"Everyone has to sleep. You could join the army; that's a good start."

"Too young. Besides, I want to learn to fight for myself - not for a government."

"Don't knock the government; they're not perfect by a long shot, but they're better than nothing. I'll tell you Billy, I might be a little old to teach someone about real self-defense."

"But you promised."

"Did I? When?" Nick didn't recall every telling Billy he'd teach him any fighting techniques.

"When you promised Mom. You promised to protect me. What better way that teach me to protect myself?"

The boy had a point that was hard to argue against. The alternative would be to move in with the family and be a live-in protector. "You don't know what you're asking, Billy. This isn't playing or pretend. Learning how to kill is serious, and you have to know when NOT to kill, too. Like, all the time." He flashed back to the thugs that MacCready sent against them. "Well, most of the time anyway."

"Then teach me that too. I just want to be able to protect me and my family; I don't want to use it unless I have to."

Nick reached out again and rubbed the hair on Billy's head. "I was right - there was some room for learning in there after all. I'll agree to teach you the basics only, enough to help protect yourself. If you do well...if WE do well...then maybe, we can continue after that. That is all that I will promise. Agreed?"

"Yeah! You bet!"

"Swear on the pig."

"What?"

Nick reached into his pack and pulled out a clay pig. Etched in the belly underneath was the name of the artist who had created it - a young boy named Billy. He held it out in front of him and repeated "Swear on the pig."

"I can't believe you still have that," Billy said as he stared at the object. Seeing that Nick was waiting, he reached out and put his hand on the pig. "I swear on the pig that I will do my best to do my duty to God and my..."

"Alright, enough of the Scout oath."

"Okay - I swear. I love you, Uncle Nick."

Nick was caught off-guard by the remark, and said "I love you too, Billy" before he even thought about it. He felt another hug and returned it, stashing the pig in his jacket pocket. He felt something wet and felt Billy's cheek. "Good. I told you strong men cry."

"Yeah? You're crying too. I thought you said that part of you didn't work anymore."

"Huh, I guess it does now - I must have gotten stronger recently. Now, onto the training. Lesson number one: everyone needs to eat. Let's get something and I'll tell you more about how I first started learning." The two walked away from the gravesite and out onto the street; Billy listened while Nick talked about opportunity versus necessity. And talked. And talked...

The End

A/N: I saw this film when it first hit the home market. I think of it a little like Remo Williams, where an average man learns special skills that are used against the bad guys. But whereas Remo worked for an organization, Nick was on his own - until now, with a protégé to train that is almost like a son to him, and certainly family.

The strength of this film was the character of Nick; he had to learn to forgive the events around the injury that took his sight, dispel his anger and instead adopt a casual but not ignorant attitude of the world and the people in it. No sequels were ever made, but Nick was a good model for a soldier who overcame great adversity to come back home. He may have been at peace at the end of the movie, but now I think he's going to be a little happier, too.