Rating: PG
Warnings: drunkenness, mild violence ahead
Disclaimer: *gasp of surprise*... no, I don't own Laramie.

A/N: Yes, another work in progress. I can't help it. If I don't start posting, it takes me AGES to finish because motivation is lower. Spoiler alert, I've taken a little creative license in this story, extrapolating on Jess's intriguing and foggy past, so please let me know how I've done as the story progresses!

Chapter One

The jaunty, if somewhat muddled, notes the old saloon pianist pounded from his beer-stained instrument resembled something along the lines of 'Camptown Races', Slim mused distractedly. The tune might have been more recognizable had the pianist been sober, and if the clamor of drinkers and angry poker players had been reduced to a dull roar.

Payday in Laramie was always a boisterous affair. As soon as dusk settled, the saloon was overrun with hired hands, their pockets newly stuffed with hard-earned wages. A man's money changed hands at least three or four times on a payday night, and was usually fought over in a drunken card game or two. The proprietor counted himself lucky if the only damages done were a few busted chairs. Every so often his luck was running low; the front window had been shattered on several occasions by either a flying chair or unlucky cowboy. In fact, payday was such a disruption that Mort Corey had taken to sending a deputy or two into the saloon to watch the place and break up any really serious trouble. The deputies did their job as well as could be expected, Slim decided, observing the cacophonous but relatively controlled barroom. He stepped warily between tables, taking care not to jar any of the poker players or casual drinkers, for fear of starting a brawl. Any little thing could set off an inebriated man, as Slim had learned early on in his saloon-going days.

Sidestepping a large rancher, Slim scanned the crowded room for any sign of his best friend and hand. Shutting out the din of the bar and squinting into the dim lighting, Slim quickly spotted the familiar, slender frame hunched over the bar, staring blankly into an empty glass.

One foot restlessly scuffed against the weathered floorboards, and Jess seemed to be clinging to the bar for support, rather than casually leaning on it. "Bar-keep? Gimme 'noth'r sh-shot." Glass scraped against the uneven grain of wood as Jess slid his shot glass toward the bartender. "Jus' one more."

The barman took in Jess's disheveled appearance, the bottle of liquor hesitantly poised to pour. "That's what you said three drinks ago, boy."

"Don' start... th-that again," Jess drawled, clapping his slightly trembling hand over the bartender's. "Pour m-me one, Sam."

"This is the last one, Jess, I swear."

Amber liquid sloshed against the sides of the shot glass, and the dark-haired man nodded with drunken appreciation. Jess lifted the glass between work-soiled fingers and tipped his head back, downing the fiery liquid. He grimaced, emitting a sharp grunt as he hunched over the bar. A sharp shake of his head, a pained scrunch of his eyes, and he brought his groggy gaze around to meet Slim's stern look.

"Shhhhh," Jess warned loudly, pressing a finger to his lips, wet with whiskey. Heavy eyelids drooped and blinked open again, revealing dull, bloodshot blue eyes. "Don' t-tell mis'r Sherman... I been drink'n... He w-won' like it...much."

Slim set his jaw against the whiskey on the younger man's breath, gently pulling the empty glass from his hand. Jess was so far gone to liquor that Slim wondered if he recognized him at all. "I won't tell him, don't worry."

"Mmmmmm. I 'preciate it... pard," Jess slurred, mouth curving up into a euphoric grin. His curls fell limply across his forehead, an unruly contrast to his usual neat, combed appearance.

"Let's get you home, boy," Slim muttered, tossing a silver dollar onto the counter to pay for Jess's fun. His arm slipped through his friend's, firmly pulling him towards the saloon door.

"Aw, no..." Jess shook his head matter-of-factly. "Th' night's still... st-still young... an' I g-got to... t' drink away m-my sorrows."

Slim tightened his grip on Jess's arm, guiding the younger man to his horse. "Easy, pard. Let's mount up."

"But-" The dark-headed rancher frowned, a hiccup interrupting his clouded train of thought. His head cocked to the side, unsure, and after a long moment he nodded, forgetting his arguments completely. "Le's m-moun' up."

Slim impatiently endured Jess's lengthy attempts to get astride his bay. The task of fitting his dusty boot into the stirrup alone took a good few minutes. Several times, Slim reached out to help the process along, but his advances were always met with weak resistance and slurred insistence that "I'll d-do it... m'self."

Jess finally managed to get seated in his saddle, and Slim rode close beside him, arm tensed to steady him if he swayed dangerously. "What in blazes were you thinking, getting drunk like this?" Slim muttered, narrowing icy blue eyes at the smaller man. Despite the lopsided smile, Jess looked absolutely miserable. A sheen of sweat glistened on his paled skin; red-rimmed, glassy eyes were shadowed by haunting dark circles.

Whiskey-wet lips curled into a pouting frown. Jess's head swiveled side to side, slowly and deliberately. "Y're mad."

Slim's mouth set into a hard line, and he turned his gaze straight ahead. "Yeah, well... you and I'll be having a talk about that when you're sober. Hours of valuable working time tomorrow are gone now, 'cause you'll be too hungover to break and brand the stock."

"M'sorry," Jess slurred, leaning dangerously sideways. He glanced blearily downward when Slim caught his sleeve and pulled him upright. Fixing Slim with a wobbling grin, he clapped a clammy hand on his friend's shoulder. "Won' happ'n ag-gain."

"Mmmhmm." Slim wrinkled his nose in disdain. The intoxicating smell of alcohol was strong, with Jess's face that close to his own. The musty, acrid stench of whiskey was hot and damp, and Slim turned his head away with a stifled cough. "For the love of- Jess, how much did you drink?"

Jess's features clouded, brow furrowed in thought. His gaze shifted uneasily, lazing high and low. "Dunno. Los' c-count."

Lost count. Jess would have had to down heaven knows how many drinks before losing himself like that. He had lots of grit, and Slim had always known him to hold his liquor well.

"We've gotta get you home," he muttered through clenched teeth, taking a firm hold on Jess's arm. "Keep a tight hold of those reins, boy."

"Mis'r Sherman... g-gon' be mad," Jess mumbled, slipping back into an amber haze. "Real mad."

"Why's he gonna be mad?" Slim ventured, unsure exactly what Jess was aware of. "Because you're drunk?"

Jess shook his head, shadowed eyes taking on a deep blue sadness. "Fell f'r it... p-play'd me f'r a f-fool." Dark, mournful eyes fixed dazedly on Slim. "Got me... 'alf d-drunk 'fore th' pok'r g-game... d'know of they was... ch-cheatin' or not... reck'n so. Th' bought m' d-dang near 'alf a b-bottle o' redeye... afore settin' me down t' p... play."

"And they kept the drinks coming all during the game, right?" Slim guessed, a sinking feeling I'm the pit of his stomach.

"Mmm... shoulda stopp'd after th' fourth... r-round..." Jess reeled in the saddle, hands weakly grabbing at the horn. "...seem'd s-so... so..."

"Honest and kind? Friendly?" Slim supplied dryly, surprised that his friend - sensible old Jess - was taken in like that. "What came over you, Jess?"

"They ordered th' g-good stuff. Not th' water'd d-down nons'nse. Didn' r'lize it 'til I'd down'd a th'rd a bottle."

A muscle in Slim's jaw tightened. Hard lines were etched plainly on his sun-tanned face. "How much did they take you for?"

Jess shrugged, inadvertently exaggerating the roll of his shoulders. "Fif... fifty, I g-guess. M-maybe sixty 'r so." A shaky, euphoric smile lit up his haggard features as he laughed. "Sixty doll'rs in pay, gone."

Slim's tight expression softened. "You sure you were cheated?"

"How'sat?" Jess turned bleary eyes on his his employer. "Ch...cheat'd? Mmhmmm. Th-they cheated."

Slim said something in reply - a question, maybe? - but Jess had reached his limit. The tall blond riding beside him wasn't speaking clearly anymore... Or maybe Jess wasn't hearing right? Slim was nothing but a blur now, heavily shadowed in the moonlight. The blur tilted, reached out- and Jess's head fell against warm horseflesh. Dark lashes brushed against Traveller's neck as heavy eyelids drifted shut, and then he succumbed to the whiskey completely.

"Morning, pard!"

Jess's face screwed in pain, eyes squeezed tightly shut. The heavy boots that clomped across the bedroom kept time with the skull-splitting pounding in his head. Slim had no reason to stomp about like that, the smaller man decided angrily, other than to torment his friend and partner.

"Rise and shine!"

'It oughta be illegal to be so chipper in the morning,' Jess thought darkly.

"I'll rise," he conceded with a grunt, "but I won't shine." He forced himself up onto an elbow, stifling a loud groan.

Slim clicked his tongue in a chastising manner, arms crossed across his chest, and stared down at his hand with amused disapproval. "Looks like somebody had a little too much fun last night."

"Nothin' fun about it," the younger man growled, falling back against the pillow with a grimace. "I feel like I got kicked in the head by a mule."

"And you look even worse," Slim added cheerily. "Come on. Up and at 'em."

Jess scowled and pulled the covers up under his chin. "You got a mean streak in you a mile wide, Slim."

"What happened to 'Mister Sherman'?" Slim asked, feigning surprise. "You were right polite last night, Jess."

Jess grimaced, remembering pieces of last night's conversation. "Don' t-tell mis'r Sherman... I been drink'n... He w-won' like it...much."

"You mean I didn't just dream up that part?" Jess asked weakly, cracking one tired eye open. Seeing Slim's grin, he muttered a curse under his breath. "Great. Just my luck."

Slim snatched Jess's clothes up from their chair and tossed them onto his friend's chest. "It's a shame. I was really starting to like this formality between boss and employee."

Jess laughed sardonically. "Hope you didn't get too used to it, 'cause you ain't likely to hear it again." He gritted his teeth, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and set about getting dressed.

"Now that you're up, we can get on with the consequences of your jolly night on the town."

Brows drew together, eyes clouded with concern, and Jess looked up at his employer. "What's that s'posed to mean?"

"You oughta pay for your fun," Slim replied earnestly. "I think fair penance would be a ride to Green River for that cattle auction on Friday."

Jess glowered as he buttoned his shirt. "We flipped to see who'd make that trip, and you lost, fair an' square."

"So I did," Slim agreed with a nod. "But seeing as you've wasted half the morning sleeping off liquor, I don't think you're in much of a position to argue."

Scowling at the floor, Jess yanked his boots on. "Fine. I gotta leave near right away to get to the auction by tomorrow night, though."

"Then you'd better hustle!" Slim grinned at his seething partner, darting through the doorframe just ahead of a flying Henley shirt. "And Jess?" A blond head poked back inside the bedroom, alight with amusement. "Maybe next time you'll be more careful who you drink with."

A/N: Reviews are excellent motivation, if you want faster updates! I'm debating with myself which of two very different paths I should take this down, so I'll try and write asap!