Written for the Modern Day, this is a response to the Dr. Quinn Forum Fan Fic Challenge #7. I do not own the characters, nor do I own the quote from the Geniuses the brought you Ocean's Twelve.

Have you ever seen the television show Scrubs?

Hank hates Scrubs.

Maybe it's because he's fairly certain that Dr. Cox is based off of him in another life.

Maybe it's the fact that the chick who plays Elliot has an ass a bit too nice for television, but only walks around in a bra.

Maybe it's just simply the fact that Zach Braff is a thief.

That's right. A Thief. Even capitalised.

You see, there is an episode where J.D., Zach Braff's character, says that he's off to "fluid rounds." The next shot there is the group of mates in a bar, clinking their glasses together and cheering "To Fluid Rounds!"

And Hank invented that term.

In Colorado Springs, across the street from the main hospital, stands a bar known as "The Gold Nugget." Hank and his buddy Jake run the joint and in order to appeal to the doctor's that had too much money and time on their hands, they came up with the idea of "Fluid Rounds" where the doctors received a bit of a price break if they came in after their shifts. Eventually he figured out who were doctors, interns, whatever and who were fakers. The fakers were kicked out. That wasn't hard. And some of the doctors were even nice enough to sneak him into their gym facility whenever he had the need to work out some aggression.

However, there was one person he never managed to get in the bar. Dr. Quinn. Michaela, as he called her. She put that Elliot chick to shame.

He had once managed to get her attention on the street and she informed him that she was too busy to go to the bar after rounds. Well, that was a shame. Why was that?

"I swim laps."

A few well placed bills and a couple of annulled tabs, and Hank had a prime viewing spot of the pool. He watched after her late night shifts as she climbed in with a competitive Speedo swimsuit, adjust her swimming cap and goggles, and go to town in the water. It wasn't even that it was erotic. It was just mesmerizing. She was so focused. He could tell you precisely where she was going to breathe from the upper office. She had it ritualized or something. Because as she did each lap, they came a little sooner, but he swore it was within an inch every day.

Today she was trying out a new pair of goggles. She wouldn't go like some Energizer Bunny on performance enhancing drugs. She would get to the end and adjust them. The placement on her face, the position of the nose piece, where it would land on her cap. Because of this, her traditional 52 laps took longer than normal. Much longer.

Before long, Hank looked at the time and headed out. He had to meet up with Jake before dawn managed to strike the city.

Rushing up behind him, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

"How was business?"

"Fine. Just fine." Jake indicated towards Michaela as she stepped out of the gym facilities and headed towards her car. "When are we gettin' her in?"

"She won't come. Too busy."

"Really? Know why?"

He remained silent before lying. "Nope."

"I know."

"Are ya gonna tell us there, Genius? Or am I going to have to call up that guy from Scrubs and say you're me?" He grinned. "What does the great Michaela Quinn do every night when she should be in Fluid Rounds?"

This would be interesting.

"Ooh, don't ever ask that. Ever. Seriously. Not to anyone, especially not to her."

"Wait, why not?"

"Look, it ain't in my nature to be mysterious. But I can't talk about it and I can't talk about why."

Hank rolled his eyes.

"And why in the Sam Hill do you smell like chlorine?"