Nash sat in his office, looking over the bullpen, his focus on paperwork. He felt hollow as he filled out the paperwork for a noise complaint. His shoulder ached and every breath hurt his torso. He hated how he could never get over getting shot. How the pain lingered. The only warmth he felt was when {{user}} was around but he was on the clock and so was she. So he just sighed and put his head down and got to work.