This is my take on that golden opportunity that went begging when the writers didn't continue with the storyline for Frame-Up after Chief was shot. Because the name of the town that Garrison and Chief were in was not supplied in the opening scenes, I have taken the liberty to place the action in Etretat, which is a town on the Upper Normandy coastline of France and within easy reach of England across the channel. I also decided that only Garrison and Chief were on the mission to retrieve the documents. Because the opening scenes consisted of a total of seven lines spoken between Garrison and Chief, I am starting at the beginning and ending with the start of the episode Frame-Up. Series dialogue is in Italics.

Piece of Cake

The Frame Up - Missing Scenes

Garrison quickly climbed down the metal rungs that led into the sewer as Chief kept watch from above. Hearing the eruption of gunfire, Garrison could only watch from below as Chief returned fire at the pursuing German soldiers before an unlucky shot hit him just below his right knee.

The impact of the bullet in his leg caused Chief to drop to his knees. He returned fire before slinging the schmeisser over his shoulder and with a tight grip on the injured leg, staggered to the opening leading to the sewer. With no other options open to him he released the grip on his leg and carefully lowered himself down next to Garrison. As careful as he was he still couldn't hide the grunt of pain the exertion caused him.

Garrison waited below, reaching up to take some of Chief's weight and support him against the wall of their temporary cover. "Take it easy," he ordered as he quickly checked around the wound that Chief had a tight grip on once more. "You caught one huh?"

Chief rested his head back against the cold stone work of the sewer for a moment. "Yeah it's in there." He gritted, still holding tightly to his leg. He glared balefully at Garrison. "Piece of cake huh? Meet an agent, get some documents and cut out."

Garrison didn't respond to the challenging words. "Come on let's go?" Garrison helped Chief to his feet, taking Chief's left arm over his shoulder and wrapping his right around the Indian's waist. "Think you can make it?"

"Yeah I'll make it." Chief announced as he tried taking a step only to find his leg buckle under him. If it hadn't been for Garrison's support he would have fallen flat on his face. All he could do was drag the injured leg behind him as they made their way through the sewer.

They came to the next exit point along the system and Garrison climbed the metal rungs to the grill, only to find it was stuck fast and wouldn't budge despite his best efforts to push it open. Hearing the footsteps of pursuit, he dropped back down beside Chief and they waited for the first of the German soldiers to appear. A quick barrage of fire and then two thrown grenades took care of the immediate pursuit and both men rested back against the wall.

"Grill's stuck fast," Garrison announced unnecessarily. "We'll have to try for the next one."

Chief swallowed hard. His leg was on fire now, the pain almost unbearable. He shook his head. "This isn't going to work Warden. Leave me here…I'll only slow you down. Documents…have to get back…to England."

"Nothing doing Chief," Garrison growled. "We came together and we leave together. I'm not leaving you behind."

"Bullet's hit the bone…I can't walk."

"All the more reason to stay together. You won't stand a chance once the SS or Gestapo get you."

"Warden…" Chief protested tiredly.

"Come on Chief," Garrison ordered as he bent down and lifted his scout to his feet, ignoring the grunt of pain that Chief couldn't suppress. "Once we get out of here I'll contact the resistance. They'll get us both home."

Three grills later Garrison lowered a gasping Chief to the ground. "Third time lucky Chief," Garrison muttered as he climbed the metal rungs sunk into the side of the sewer. He sent up a silent prayer that the grill would open. Chief was barely conscious and they needed to get out of the underground system before Chief passed out or neither of them would be going anywhere. Garrison pushed against the grill and for a moment thought it was stuck like the others before he felt a slight give in the resistance. Using his shoulders he pushed harder, sighing in relief when the grill finally moved upwards. Garrison swung it open and checked for passing traffic. It was almost dark and it seemed they had exited in an alley. The stench of rotting garbage told him they were at the back of a row of shops. Garrison dropped back down beside Chief. "Come on Chief." He tapped the sweat glistened face gently, "We have a way out of here but I need your help getting you up the ladder."

Chief's chin rested on his chest and his eyes were closed, he groaned but made no other effort to respond to Garrison.

Garrison shook Chief roughly, calling his name as he physically pulled him to his feet. "Get up Chief."

"I can't Warden."

"Yes you can Chief." Garrison pulled him to his feet. "Just lean on me." He ordered.

Chief sighed but managed to straighten up a bit as they staggered to the ladder. "I…can't climb."

"I'll help. Reach up and grip the next rung." Garrison waited until Chief had a grip on the rung above with two hands. "Alright Chief, pull yourself up with your hands and I'll give you a boost."

"Warden." Chief shook his head.

"Now Chief," Garrison ordered as he supported Chief around his waist, pushing his left leg up onto the lowest rung. "Good. Next one. Come on you can do it." Garrison cajoled softly as they continued the slow climb up the five rungs. Garrison pulled himself up onto the pavement and dropped down beside Chief who was breathing heavily. "We can't stay here Chief, I need to move you further back into the alley and then I'll go and find us a car."

Chief's only response was a gasped groan as Garrison picked him up under the arms and dragged him back into the far corner of the alley. Once he had Chief settled and as well hidden as possible, Garrison surveyed the alley. They had exited half way along its length but were now almost to the furthest end from the street with Chief hidden behind some trash cans. The alley ended at a T intersection and Garrison carefully peered around the corner, relieved when he saw the second alley was clear of obstructions and wide enough to permit a car or small truck. Each end appeared to turn onto one of the main streets of the town. At least, he thought if he could get some sort of transport they would have a way out. Garrison hurried back to where Chief remained slumped against the back wall of an undisclosed shop. "Chief, you still with me?" Garrison waited until the dark eyes fluttered open.


Garrison handed Chief his schmeisser. "Try not to make any noise. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Chief nodded tiredly in response, watching through hooded eyes as Garrison slipped soundlessly out of the alley. He gripped the schmeisser tightly in his hands and tried to slow his breathing but the pain in his leg caused his breath to hitch in short gasps. He knew he had to stay awake, but the pain was becoming overwhelming and he found himself drifting towards unconsciousness.

Garrison slipped silently out of the alley, turning right into the interconnecting one and following it to the corner of the shops. He peered cautiously around the corner. There were only a couple of people still present on the street, shopkeepers locking up their businesses for the night. Garrison stepped back into the shadows; he had seen what he wanted half way down the street and parked on the opposite side to where he was standing. Garrison stepped around the corner and hurried across the street. He had almost reached the bakers van when two German soldiers turned into the street ahead of him. He hurried to the door of the bakery, hunched over the lock and pretended to be locking the door as the two soldiers passed without a second glance. Once the soldiers had passed, Garrison slipped into the driver's seat of the van, releasing a small chuckle at the site of the keys hanging invitingly from the ignition. Obviously the baker didn't expect his van to be stolen in the middle of a war. Garrison checked the immediate area; the two soldiers had turned around the next corner and the street appeared deserted. He started the van, eased it into gear and pulled out into the street before retracing his steps back to the alley and Chief.

Behind Garrison a corner of a curtain dropped back into place and a figure moved quietly around the counter of the bakery and slipped unnoticed out the back door.

The sudden sound of a car door closing forced Chief to open his eyes again. He tried lifting the schmeisser as footsteps echoed in the alley but he didn't have the strength, allowing the schmeisser to clatter to the ground when he heard Garrison whispering his name urgently. "War…den." Chief tried pushing himself to a sitting position but slumped backed in gasped defeat as the movement ignited the simmering pain in his leg.

"Easy Chief," Garrison crooned as he squatted beside his wheelman, noting the blood soaked pant leg. As soon as they could, he needed to stop and attend to the injury but for now they needed to get as far away from the town as possible. "I've got us a van. Ready to go home?" Garrison picked up Chief's and his schmeissers and slung them over his left shoulder before lifting Chief's left arm over his right shoulder. Garrison straightened bringing Chief to his feet and they staggered to the back of the van. "Just a little further Chief and then you can rest." Garrison coached as he found himself taking more and more of the Indian's weight. He opened the back door of the van, sat Chief on the floor and then pulled him back into the van, grimacing in sympathy as Chief cried out in pain before going quiet. Garrison didn't have time. He slammed the back door shut, slid into the drivers seat, started the van and drove down the alley, turning onto the next street. Thankfully the town of Etretat was small and it didn't take long to leave its outskirts behind. With no headlights, Garrison was forced to drive carefully along the windy road at the top of the cliffs. His destination was a fisherman's hut hidden amongst the woods at the base of the cliffs. He just hoped that the path would be wide enough to accommodate the small van because he doubted very much that he would be able to carry Chief for any distance.

It took Garrison almost a half hour to make the decent from the top of the cliff and in all that time he hadn't heard a sound from Chief. Breathing a sigh of relief, Garrison finally reached the turn off that led to the hut. He drove the van down the narrow path, wincing at the noise of the tree branches scraping the sides and roof of the van. Rounding several bends in the path, Garrison brought the van to a stop and quickly climbed through to the back, making a quick check to ensure they were well hidden from the road before turning his attention to Chief.

Chief lay huddled in the corner, his injured leg stretched out; the floor under the wound sticky with fresh blood. Garrison gently shook Chief, feeling the heat coming through the Indian's jacket. "Dammit," Garrison muttered as he moved his hand up to feel Chief's forehead. It was slick with sweat and the undeniable presence of a mounting fever. Rubbing tiredly at his eyes, Garrison sat back on his heels. This mission was supposed to be easy. Meet with the agent, collect the documents and return to England. That's why he had elected to only bring Chief with him. It was one of those missions he had done a number of times in the past with only half the team present. Garrison leant back against the side of the van. They had already missed the one and only rendezvous. Now they would have to wait until a search party was sent over for them, or rather the documents. He just hoped that Chief could wait that long. Garrison shifted his position when he felt something pressing into the small of his back. Feeling behind him, he pulled out a burlap sack that had been tucked into the corner of the van. Carefully opening it, he discovered a half loaf of bread, two bottles of water, several bandages and some sulfa powder. He pursed his lips in thought, this and the keys in the van, somebody was watching over them and hopefully that somebody would get a message through to London. Either that or it was a trick to lure them out, in which case they should have already been captured.

Garrison uncorked one of the bottles and after taking a sip, lifted Chief's head and pressed the opening to the Indian's lips. "Chief," he called loudly. "I have some water, take a sip."

Chief moaned and muttered something unintelligible but didn't rouse.

Garrison shook Chief roughly by the shoulder and then tapped his face. "Come on Chief, you need to drink." He tipped the bottle up, sloshing a small amount of water over Chief's lips.

Chief felt the cool water splash against his lips and licked hungrily at it.

"Slowly Chief," Garrison cautioned, pulling the bottle away. "You don't want to make yourself sick."


"I know Chief, you're running a fever." Garrison replied. "We're almost to the hut. Do you think you can hold on a little longer then you can rest?"

"The pick-up…the documents?"

"We've already missed the rendezvous. We'll have to wait for London to send another team for the documents and us."

"Sorry…shoulda gone…when you had…the chance."

"We've already been through this Chief. We go out together or we don't go." Garrison laid Chief back down on the floor of the van. He pulled out the bandages and the sulfa. Working in the near dark Garrison released Chief's knife from its wrist sheath and felt along Chief's leg until he heard Chief gasp in pain. "Sorry Chief, but I need to clean this wound and wrap it." Garrison continued feeling his way down the leg, ignoring the hisses of pain as he passed over the wound, until he reached the leather boots. He grasped the end of Chief's pant leg and then using the borrowed knife slit the seam of the pants up to Chief's thigh. Feeling his way back down the exposed leg, Garrison stopped when his fingers came in contact with a sticky substance. The metallic smell of blood was strong in the van now that wound had been exposed. Garrison poured some water over the wound and then emptied a packet of sulfa over it before bandaging it securely. Chief remained stiff and silent allowing only the slightest sounds to pass his lips. "That's all I can do for now Chief. I'll clean it properly when we reach the hut and its daylight. We have to keep moving. It won't be long." Garrison climbed back into the driver's seat and started up the van once more. Cautiously he drove along the path until the trees closed in and he could take the van no further. Praying it wasn't too far to the hut; he climbed into the back of the van and squatted beside Chief, shaking him until he roused. "End of the line Chief. We have to walk from here."

Chief groaned. "Can't…stay…here."

"Chief we can't stay here."

"Can't move."

Garrison leant back against the side of the van with a sigh. He knew Chief was right, the man was at the end of his endurance, and he doubted they would get very far if he tried to carry Chief, but dammit, he wasn't about to give up now. "I'll tell you what Chief." Garrison waited for Chief to respond but when none was forthcoming he continued. "I'll head further along the path. See how far we are away from the hut; then I'll come back for you. In the meantime, you get some rest. Alright?"

"Mmmm." Chief muttered.

Garrison made Chief as comfortable as possible, ensuring he had several sips of water and his schmeisser was beside his hand before he exited the van. He rested back against the van for several minutes listening for any sound of pursuit before slipping the carry strap of his schmeisser over his shoulder. He checked Chief one last time, noting that he was either asleep or unconscious. There was no other choice; he needed to find somewhere safer for them to hide out until help arrived. Slipping quietly away, Garrison continued along the path they had been following, soon loosing sight of the van amongst the trees and darkness.