A/N: This is a nebulous timeframe, both for Bojack and for Scrubs.

Bojack woke up with his mouth dry, his eyes trying hard to focus on the intense light above him and a semblance of a memory flying around his head. It had started as a relatively normal party but then somebody brought in the vodka and Hennessy Richard and Valium mixed with opium or something like that. That was a relatively normal party for him in any case, though in this particular one he distinctly remembered getting lucky. Probably not good to have sex with a random girl, again, like that; Bojack figured he got another string of some sort of STD.

There was a cheery voice that sang, "Good morning!" stretching out the "good," and it was anything but. Bojack's ears started ringing, high and droning, and he thought that he had certainly died and gone to Hell.

"You are not in Hell, Mr. Horseman," the voice added. "And I must say, I adored you in Secretariat!"

That got his attention. Bojack looked, his eyes finally focusing, to see a man with dark hair and wearing scrubs, holding up a chart. The man was smiling widely, and Bojack wondered if there was some contraption to steal that youth. But he remembered the words and he put on his best movie celebrity voice.

"You saw that, huh?" he asked. He hoped there was a pearly smile to accompany that. "What's your name, kid?"

"John 'J.D.' Dorian," the man replied. "You know, that grandma reminded me so much of my own! Ah, grandma..."

J.D. tilted his head to the side, a dreamy smile on his face. Bojack thought he looked pretty dumb.

A sudden sharp whistle made J.D. jump, and Bojack saw another man slip into his hospital room.

"Dr. Cox," J.D. exclaimed. "Look, it's-"

"I know who it is, Clarice," the aforementioned Dr. Cox snapped. "I happened to look at his chart, which I am sure you did not do because you've been gabbing it up like a group of school girls."

"I would make a wonderful school girl," J.D. muttered as he passed the chart to Dr. Cox. "And I did look at Mr. Horseman's chart!"

"Look here. You might have the inclination to believe that this chance encounter will get your Dr. Acula project off the ground, but believe me, Virginia, yes, there is a star in our hospital," Dr. Cox ranted, the last part in a high, mocking voice, "But stop your brown-nosing and do some work around here or so help me I will pray to any nondescript deity to strike me down right now."

"You know about my Dr. Acula film?" J.D. asked, his eyes wide with joy.

Dr. Cox whacked him on the head with Bojack's chart. "Get the hell outta here."

J.D. did so, rubbing his head as he went, and Bojack hoped to God that this doctor didn't use that verbal beat-down on him.

"You, uh. Didn't have to do that," he voiced somewhat quietly.

"Didn't ask." Dr. Cox flipped through the chart and made a snort as he read it over again.

"Bath salts, opium, Valium, ecstasy, speed, heroin," he listed off. "Why can't you just take cocaine like a normal celebrity?"

"I am no normal celebrity," Bojack replied, somewhat loftily.

"Like hell you are," Dr. Cox said. "You're more like the a phallic object; something that people find disgusting but at the same time utterly adore. And unlike that phallic object I can't find any reason for somebody adoring someone like you."

He tapped his finger on the chart. "And just look at this. You're a rehab's nightmare, or ultimate dream. Glass half full, half empty. I can give you the whole speech, the 'You are strong enough to get through this,' but I've seen countless people like you and I damn sure know that your death bed will be some Seven-Eleven parking lot if you don't take this seriously. You'll keep making excuses for it, but you and I both know that this isn't something you can run from."

If Bojack wasn't still weakened by the procedures to save his life he would've taken action. He would've demanded that the other doctor come back, he would've threatened to sue, he would've made sure this doctor never stepped foot in a hospital ever again.

But instead he asked, "How do you do that? Not care about what other people think. Not like I have a problem... with that, or anything."

"Fake it 'till you make it," Dr. Cox said, simply, without missing a beat. "At least that's what my banshee of an ex-wife used to say."

He snapped the chart closed and stalked out of the room. Bojack tried to turn onto his side and found that his body was too sore. He had a lot to think about.

But he thought that doctor was wrong on something. He could run away from this. He just had to go faster.

A/N: Originally posted on AO3 on December 13 2017

After going on a Scrubs kick, I had the thought, "Ha ha, Bojack is pretty similar to Dr. Cox," and then inspiration struck. It jumped from wanting to do a meta fic ("Oh, right, the Network doesn't allow hard curses on YOUR show") but decided to play it straight. It was pretty fun to write a Dr. Cox rant!