I do not own Doctor Strange in any way, shape or form. I also have no knowledge of any of the medical terms used, I just copied them from the Doctor Strange script.

Oh, and the title needs some explaining. It's ironic because Stephen, a doctor, is hospitalized. Ironic, isn't it?

Also fun fact: I have only ever gone to InstaCare because I fell and split my face open. Literally. Didn't reach the bone though, so that's good. Anyways, the doctor said that I needed stitches, but my health class had barely finished our stitches unit. Long story short, I refused to let the doctor put that needle anywhere near my head. Parents backed up my decision and the doctor agreed to glue me back together again like Humpty Dumpty. Walked around school for three weeks afterwards with a bandage half the size of my face plastered to my forehead and an eye almost swollen shut :D

~

When Stephen opened his eyes groggily, many hours later, he slowly looked around the room, trying to get his bearings. Beeps and low hums from various machines filled the air and Stephen realized he was back in the hospital. The undamaged part of the hospital, he assumed.

Stephen looked down at himself. He was wearing a hospital gown and laying in a immaculately made hospital bed. His hands were covered, wrapped in bandages and guaze and whatever else the doctors had plastered on. The small amount of skin he could see was red, purple, blue, and black. Bruised, broken, and sore.

"It's okay. It's going to be okay." A voice murmured from a chair besides his bed. Stephen turned his head to the left to find Doctor Christine Palmer sitting in those uncomfortable plastic chairs.

A numb flash of relief filled his chest- Christine was there just like he had hoped. The relief didn't last long as he caught sight of his suspended hands once more.

"What did they do?" He asked, hating how hoarse and raspy his voice sounded.

Christine's head shot up and she stared at him, dried tears on her cheeks and sorrow shining in her eyes. "They rushed you in after the attack. There was a nurse who saw you fall and helped look, but it took a while to find you, even though you were within twenty feet of the hospital. Too much rubble and dust. Hands were shattered upon impact. Severed nerves, ripped tendons, you were a mess, Stephen." Christine whispered. She paused to take a steadying breath and continued with the words Stephen dreaded. "Golden hours for nerve damage went by while they were searching."

Stephen struggled to sit up, staring at Christine. "What did they do?" He asked, his voice stronger and firmer then his first attempt at speaking.

Christine refused to meet him gaze, instead focusing on the pillow behind Stephen. She looked almost guilty as she informed Stephen of the extent of his injuries. "Eleven stainless steel pins in the bones, multiple torn ligaments, severe nerve damage in both hands. You were on the table for eleven hours after they found you."

Stephen was silent. He looked at Christine, them looked back at his hands. Eleven stainless steel pins.

"Look at these fixators." Stephen croaked, fruitlessly trying to wave his hands gently.

Christine looked at him, forcing a reassuring, watery smile. "No one could have done better."

Stephen sighed, blinking away the wetness pricking the corners of his eyes. He slightly lifted his arms, straining slightly at the movement. "I could have done better."

Christine shook her head, tears leaking from her eyes as she pressed a hand over her mouth. "No. No, Stephen.." she said in a broken voice that squeezed Stephen's heart. "Please, don't say that. It wasn't your fault."

~

Four month later, Stephen had made a full recovery. The bones in his hands had healed without a hitch, but the nerve damage remained and left his hands scarred and shaking beyond repair.

Stephen  knew that it was impossible to regain what he had lost, but he refused to give up, desperately searching for another option.

As for the hospital, repairs had started almost immediately and the gaping whole was almost completely filled. Thankfully, that month hadn't brought in as many patients as normal and the floors where mostly empty. Twenty injured, including Stephen, and five dead.

"Give your body time to heal." Said a doctor sitting across from Stephen in a bare examination room.

"I have!" Stephen all but yelled, growing frustrated. "You ruined me- time isn't working! How long until I’m-"

Stephen was cut off by a loud sigh from the doctor. "Listen to me, Stephen, we've tried everything. You and I both know your hands are irreparable. I know it's hard for you to except, but it's the truth. I'm sorry."

The doctor stood up and left the room afterwards, leaving Stephen to process what he had said.

A week later, Stephen sat at his mahogany kitchen table, a team of the best doctors in the states sitting across and next to him.

"Doctor Strange," one said, "those tissues are still healing."

Stephen nodded. "I am aware of that, so speed it up. Pass the stent under the brachial artery and under the radial artery."

A second doctor timidly raised his hand to speak as if it were still in elementary school. The first doctor waved his hand, giving the younger doctor a change to speak. "Well, I think it is possible. It will be experimental and expensive, but possible."

Stephen sighed dejectedly, staring at his shaky hands folded in his lap. "All I need right now is possible."