Disclaimer: I don't own 21 Jump Street

A Chapel Full of Teenagers

The day was winding into evening and the officers who usually occupied the Jump Street Chapel were slowly filtering out. They called out goodnights and goodbyes and soon the Chapel was nearly empty. In a few short minutes, only two officers remained.

Tom Hanson and Doug Penhall had pulled their chairs up close to Tom's desk as they worked through lists upon lists of evidence for their case. They watched forlornly as the last of their coworkers disappeared from the room, and Tom let out a long sigh and let his forehead fall against the wood of the desk. He tilted his head slightly and looked up at Doug, his eyes pleading.

"Please, tell me we're done," he said.

"C'mon, Hanson," Doug replied. "It's not like you have a life outside of work."

"Well, no," Tom conceded. "But I'd like to."

"Well, the first step," Doug said, grabbing the back of Tom's shirt and pulling him back into a sitting position. "Is to not fall asleep on the paperwork." Tom shrugged as his shirt was released and he turned to shoot a glare at his partner, but instead his gaze stopped at the door to Fuller's office.

"He's still in there," he said quietly. Doug raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"Huh?" he queried.

"Fuller," Tom replied, nodding towards the door. "He's still in his office."

"And that pertains to this lovely list of impounded vehicles how?" Doug asked, gesturing at the desk. Tom shook his head.

"It doesn't, Doug, but that's not the point," he said, standing. Doug watched as Tom wove through the obstacle course of desks, tables, and a coffee machine to reach Fuller's office; and as his partner knocked Doug heaved an exasperated sigh and quickly followed suit.

"Come in," Fuller called just as Doug reached Tom's side. Tom glanced at Doug before turning the doorknob and pushing the door open. Fuller sat behind his desk, folders piled on either side of him, and he barely spared his two officers a glance as they entered.

"What're you two still doing here?" Fuller queried as the two of them sat down opposite his desk.

"Paperwork," Tom said.

"Buried in it," Doug added.

"Still lookin' through impound records, huh?" Fuller asked; Tom and Doug nodded. Fuller sighed and leaned back, letting his pen fall to the desk with a dull tap. "Was there anything in particular you needed from me?" he questioned. Doug looked to Tom, raising his eyebrows high and letting a soft 'yeah, was there?' escape his lips. Tom sighed.

"I was wondering, sir," Tom said, "why Jump Street?"

"What do you mean, Hanson?" Fuller asked, leaning forward once again.

"Well, sir, I mean no disrespect, I was just wondering why you chose to work at Jump Street,"

"Why not?" Fuller asked. Doug looked from Tom to Fuller, confusion etched on his face.

"Well, you're basically working in a Chapel full of Teenagers," Tom elaborated. Fuller laughed as a resentful 'Hey' erupted from Doug.

"You've got a point, Hanson," Fuller said. "But you're not entirely right. You may go undercover as teenagers, but at the end of the day you are some of the most dedicated Officers I have ever had the pleasure of working with."

"Thank you," Doug said loudly, standing as he spoke. "And on that note, I think I'll go finish sifting through Impound records." Fuller laughed again.

"You have fun with that, Penhall," he said.

"Oh, I will," Doug replied, his voice filled with sarcasm. "I live for this." He turned to Tom. "Are you going to join me, or do I have the desk high stack of papers all to myself?"

"In a minute," Tom replied, waving Doug away. Doug shrugged his arms and sighed before leaving the office, not bothering to pull the door shut behind him. Tom regarded Fuller for a moment before standing and walking slowly to the door. As he reached it, he stopped, slipped his hands into his pockets, and turned to face his Captain again.

"There's more to it," he said. "Isn't there?" Fuller sighed and ran a hand across his face.

"No, Hanson," he said. "There isn't." Tom shrugged and turned away again, but he was halted once more by Fuller's voice.

"I didn't really raise my son," he said. Tom glanced over his shoulder to look at the Captain, whose eyes were fixed somewhere in the distance. "So maybe you're right, maybe that's it. But whether there's more to it or not," he turned his head and caught Tom's eye. "I wouldn't trade this job for the world."

Tom nodded, but Fuller's gaze had already returned to the paperwork adorning his desk. With a small smile growing on his lips, Tom returned to Doug's side and they spent the evening searching for one specific car on pages and pages of records.

Dedicated Officers indeed.