Sometimes rescues were easy. No, scratch that, rescues were never easy as such, but there were definitely ones that were harder than others.

Sometimes the hard part was the process, trying to work out how to perform the rescue, what equipment would be needed and the like, the sort of things that are mentally taxing. Other times, that was the easy part and the hard part was carrying it out, the physically demanding ones that would require a long soothing shower afterwards to unwind the muscles. Then there were the rescues that were hard because of the people involved.

Today's rescue certainly fell into the latter category for Scott. He'd been called to retrieve a car that had left the road and gone over a sheer drop, finishing off halfway down a cliff. The fact that the occupants of said vehicle had survived was amazing to start with, but they were well beyond the reach of local rescue services so Scott had attended, using his grapple to pluck the car from the precipice and return it to the road and the waiting emergency services. When he'd disembarked from his Thunderbird to go and check on the driver and his passengers, he'd been accosted by a young man and his two friends, all of whom had the smell of alcohol on them and were fast becoming aggressive toward the paramedics trying to tend to them. They were obviously embarrassed at needing to be rescued, but Scott felt that was no need for them to be shouting at the poor aid workers who were just trying to see if they were alright. He'd stepped in to try and diffuse the situation, only to receive abuse hurled in his direction. He maintained their focus on himself, rather than let them yell at the paramedics, until the local police had arrived to assist, at which time, he'd left them in their capable care, certain that they'd receive both the treatment they needed and the punishment they deserved for their recklessness.

So now he was on his way back home, frustrated. He'd never set out to rescue people for the thanks he might receive, but he certainly didn't expect to be treated with such hostility.

Reaching a hand up, he pinched the bridge of his nose, screwing his eyes shut briefly.

"Scott? You okay?"

He looked up, lowering his hand to regard his younger brother, those blue-green eyes staring at him inquisitively. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit annoyed. Those kids could have killed themselves out there today, but they felt the need to have a go at us."

John nodded. "I know, I was listening in to your feed. Try not to dwell on it, though. Once they sober up, they'll realise how foolish they were."

"Probably, but it just frustrates me. And they yelled at those poor EMTs too. We were all there to help them."

"I know, Scott," John said soothingly. "I agree. But they've been dealt with now. They'll get their treatment whilst being under arrest for driving under the influence."

Scott nodded. "I know." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry. Did you call for a reason?"

"Nothing specific," John replied. "Only that you hadn't called in yet to say you were on your way back like you often do so I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

A smile formed on Scott's lips. "Thanks, John. I'm alright. But I think I need some unwinding time when I get back."

"The usual?"

"Soon as I've had a shower, yes."

"Hope it helps then."

"It does usually."

The usual for Scott was a hobby he'd cultivated since he was a child, learning tips and tricks from his grandfather.

And so, shower finished, and dressed in clothes he didn't mind getting dirty, Scott made his way through the villa and outside, down towards his favourite spot.

Next to the pool, tucked away at the foot of the cliff wall, Scott kept a few small flowerbeds. They weren't much, not like the garden he used to help tend to outside his Grandpa Grant's farmhouse, but it was enough for him, especially with International Rescue taking up the majority of his time. But it was enough. A little splash of colour amongst the varying shades of green that made up the bulk of the vegetation of their island home.

Stopping next to his little plot, he lowered himself to his knees, smiling to himself as he surveyed the beds. Not too much work needed doing, which was good in some ways as it meant his flowers were doing well, though in other ways, not so good, as it was less to distract him. Nevertheless, he set to work, deadheading those that needed it and removing stray palm fronds that had entangled themselves in the rose bush donated by Lady Penelope.

He continued to work and to weed his little garden until he was satisfied he could do no more, turning his attention instead to the lawn that surrounded them, running from almost by the villa to the other end of the pool. The grass was getting long.

Brushing his hands down his jeans to remove the dirt from them, he headed to the storage area he kept the lawn mower in. The old one that had journeyed to the island with them from the farm had served him well, but it had eventually outlived its usefulness. He'd been pretty moody that day, grumbling about how his lawn was half mown and he had no idea when he'd get the opportunity to go out to the mainland to replace it. When Brains had presented him with one he'd made for him, he'd been so excited and had spent hours outside, trying it out. Naturally, as with all of Brains' inventions, it had worked beautifully.

Opening the door to the shed, he looked in at the machine, smiling as he took it by the handle and pulled it out, grabbing his strimmer as well. He wheeled the mower down to the lawn and left it at the top, starting his strimmer and beginning work on the edges next to the pool and cliff wall, and around the flower beds. His grandfather had taught him this trick. In doing the edges first and making sure as much of the trimmed grass as possible went onto the lawn, he didn't need to sweep any up. Once he started mowing the lawn proper, the machine essentially hoovering up the strimmed grass as well as picking up the newly cut.

With a grin, he looked back over his garden, pleased at the work he'd done.

"John said I might find you out here."

Scott turned to see Virgil approaching. "Checking up on me?" he asked, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead.

Virgil shook his head. "Not at all. John explained what happened out there, but you've been out here long enough I figured you'd have calmed by now. Do you feel better?"

"I do actually, yeah. You know tending to my little oasis always helps me to unwind."

Virgil chuckled. "I do find it amusing that you call it that."

Scott grinned again. "And why not? We're on an island way out in the South Pacific. It might not be the traditional desert definition, but it's still out in the middle of nowhere. And I find peace here."

"I know you do, Scott," Virgil replied. "Now, have you found enough peace to come and get dinner?"

"Depends who cooked it," he responded, smirking.

"I did, actually."

Scott's eyes lit up, enticed by the thought of a meal prepared by his brother. "Then give me five minutes to clean up and I'm there."

Virgil's gaze raked over his brother's appearance. "Hmm, maybe you should take ten."

Scott laughed as he slung his arm over Virgil's shoulder and together they walked back up to the villa.