Glancing at his watch Tim realized that the car ride hadn't actually been that long, but lately he'd been experiencing mild claustrophobia whenever he was in small spaces with other people. He couldn't even ride in the elevator at work anymore. He'd told everyone that taking the stairs was part of his new exercise regimen, but the truth was that just being so close to anyone else in an enclosed space made him start to panic. The last time Tim took the elevator it had been empty until Gibbs slipped in through the closing doors. When they reached their office floor Tim had bolted to the head, gasping for breath as he clutched the sink for balance. He couldn't risk that happening again.

Being in a car today with the team hadn't caused an anxiety attack, but it was still a physical relief for him to step outside into the fresh air. Tim looked around at the vast ravine where they were parked. While he'd rather be alone at home, if they had to be on a case this was certainly the best situation for him. The crime was over, the victim was already back in autopsy, and the perpetrators were unlikely to still be in the area. The team had been called in to search for more evidence, a task which was likely to be tedious and unrewarding, but not risky or dangerous. It was also something that could be a fairly solitary task, since Gibbs would undoubtedly want them to cover as much ground as possible before it got dark. Tim was not really interested in making conversation.

Gibbs divided the area up, and assigned each agent to a region. Tim headed off towards his section, glad to be away from Tony. Hearing footsteps, Tim spun around angrily, expecting to encounter DiNozzo sneaking up behind him, but instead he found himself face-to-face with Ziva.

"Tim, I did not mean to scare you."

Tim felt embarrassed. "Sorry. I just thought you were Tony screwing around again."

"I am not. I simply thought we might canvass the boundary area together, until our paths must diverge."

Tim didn't think there was a way to tell her that he just wanted to be alone without it leading to questions he didn't want to answer, so he shrugged and directed his attention towards the ground. At first Ziva worked silently a few feet away from him, and Tim almost forgot that she was there.

"I think you did well with this doctor today, Tim."

Tim looked up, startled. Why did Ziva know what he had said to the psychologist? He felt his chest burning. Did Dr. Avery talk to the director after the session? Did she talk to Gibbs? Maybe Ziva had overheard something – surely the therapist hadn't just gone to Ziva and shared details of the meeting. Tim felt indignant. That was private and confidential! At least he thought it was. But maybe since it was an NCIS staff psychologist, the rules didn't apply. Tim could feel himself start to panic.

Ziva continued. "I believe that you were only in the room with her for perhaps 25 minutes. Maybe less. I think that you must have convinced her very quickly that you had fully recovered from the incident, and her services were unnecessary."

"Um, yeah. I guess." Tim felt flustered by the realization that he'd completely overreacted.

"I admit that I was quite worried about this, Tim. You are so easily made nervous. I did not know if you would be able to show her your confidence adequately."

"It wasn't a big deal." Tim muttered, mildly annoyed at the way Ziva's compliments were laced with criticisms.

"At least you did not try to follow Tony's advice. A trained psychiatrist would not be fooled by the diversions of Tony's joking around."

Tim felt his face redden at the memory of his conversation with Dr. Avery. "She was a psychologist, not a psychiatrist."

"They are all the same, these mind doctors. It is all about touching-feeling. I have no use for such things."

"Touchy-feely." Tim corrected her under his breath.

"I believe that Gibbs also does not like these doctors. Really, I think that he only does not say so because he does not want to offend Ducky. But I cannot understand why – "

"Ziva!" Tim snapped. "I can't concentrate with you talking!"

Ziva looked surprised at his uncharacteristic outburst. "I am sorry. I did not mean to disrupt your work."

Tim felt guilty that he'd yelled at her, but he just wanted to get away from all of them. "It's fine. Look, I'm sorry. I just need to pay attention." He turned away quickly before she could respond, and strode briskly in the opposite direction. He hated feeling this way, but he just seemed to be a pot waiting to boil over these days – with anger, frustration, panic, fear, or whatever the most intense emotion was at the moment. He exploded, and then immediately slammed the lid back on, cramming everything back inside.

Tim didn't notice the tree root until he'd already tripped over it. He hurtled forward, breaking his fall with his hands. "Shit!" he cried out.

"Are you OK?" Ziva called to him from her region.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's no big deal." Tim felt more embarrassed than injured. He pushed himself up and felt the sharp pain of something stabbing into the heel of his hand. Dropping back down he leaned against a tree and inspected his palm. A large splinter had embedded itself into his hand. Tim swallowed. He hated medical stuff. But he sure as hell wasn't going to ask one of the others for help.

Thank goodness for Rule Number Nine, he thought. Tim dug around in his bag until he found his Swiss Army knife. Tim pulled open one of the attachments and looked at his hand, then back at the shiny sharp blade. He felt sick. But Tim knew he had to do this, and he had to do it before anyone else noticed him just sitting there. Steeling himself, he touched the knife point to the heel of his hand, and then tentatively started digging around the wooden shard. He felt it starting to come loose, and after a bit more fiddling Tim was able to dislodge the splinter. It fell to the ground, and Tim stared at the place where it had been in his hand. It hadn't been very deep at all. You would never even know that something had been there, or how much it had hurt when he pushed down on it.

Later on, Tim wouldn't remember what made him do it. He just wanted to know what it would feel like to have the pain come back, just for a moment. He held the blade to the tender spot caused by the splinter, and then pushed down on the point. It wasn't a deep cut, but he broke the skin, and a drop of blood appeared on the surface and grew before his eyes. There was a sensation of pain, and Tim pulled the knife away, shocked by what he'd just done. But he couldn't stop looking at the blood, and almost immediately the pain was replaced by a wave of relief. It was like all the tension just melted out of his body.

Tim's trance was broken by the sound of Ziva jogging towards him.

"Tim, are you injured?"

Tim looked up at her with glazed eyes. It took a second for him to focus on her, and to realize that he'd been sitting down by the tree for several minutes now.

"You are bleeding." Ziva stated bluntly.

The panic came crashing back into him. Tim looked at his hand, and then at the knife, and wondered how he'd explain this. "I had a splinter…" he stammered. "I used the knife to get it out…but it started to bleed…"

"Do you require a bandage?" Ziva asked, unfazed.

"What?"

"A bandage. For your hand."

"Oh." Tim wiped his hand on his canvas backpack. "No, I'm fine. It's nothing."

"OK. I will return to my area then."

Ziva sprinted back towards her assigned region, and Tim looked down at his hand. The blood was gone, and so was the intense calm feeling he'd had after he'd made the cut. His insides were all knotted up again, just like they'd been since the shooting. Since that night, Tim had forgotten what it was like to feel peaceful. But now something had reminded him what that feeling was like, and he wanted to get it back.