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I should go.
Or rather run away and hide himself away for the rest of his days. Which, in his current state, wouldn't be very long.
Stephen stared down at the ruin of his hands. He should bandage them, he knew, but what was the point? He would never again hold a scalpel or calibrate electrical equipment, that was certain. If he was very lucky they might heal enough for him to be able to care for himself, even if basic necessities like eating or washing himself weren't on his list of priorities right now. The choice would be easy if it was only his own fate he would be deciding - hide away somewhere and die alone and forgotten like an injured animal - but there was someone else he had to consider.
He dragged his gaze away from his hands and forced himself to look at the still form on the other end of the room. He'd never seen Tony so motionless before. At least not before… The sob escaped and he didn't even try to hold it in. It had all been his fault. Tony's death. Tony's resurrection. If he hadn't played with electricity in ways he shouldn't have his poor love would never had died in the first place, let alone be reanimated as a silent and brainless corpse.
"I'm sorry," he choked out and hid his head between his arms. He deserved the agony in his hands and heart, that was for certain. What kind of monster killed his friend and then forced him back into his body but without his mind? He would put Tony out of his misery first, he decided. Another electrical charge should do it. The equipment was still up and the faint humming told him that the generator was still running. And after that? It would be his turn. He would electrify the water in the tank and then throw himself in it. It was the quickest, easiest way. It would probably blow the generator and set the building on fire but that was just an added bonus.
"And so ended the promising careers of future doctors Anthony Stark and Stephen Strange before they even began," he said to himself. At least this way Tony would never discover the unnatural attraction Stephen felt towards him. That was something at least.
He was so busy constructing their final end in his mind that he didn't notice when what was left of Tony began to move. The portable generator Stephen had used to kickstart his heart and that now helped it beat at a regular rhythm glowed in an otherworldly blue as he slowly and carefully sat up and looked at his surroundings. "Stephen." He tried to speak the name but while his lips moved there was no sound. He shook his head, not understanding. Then he looked down at his chest. Than at the crumpled form of his friend in the corner. Down at his chest again. Around the room.
It took him maybe a minute to figure out what had happened and what Stephen had done. He looked at the other man again and noticed his hands for the first time. His hands! Those beautiful, clever fingers that could not only cut open corpses with incredible finesse but also built the most complicated machines almost as well as himself. Blackened and bloodied and useless. Tony wanted to cry. His chest hurt, his head was a muddled mess and then there was Stephen.
"What have you done?"
His voice was a hoarse wreck but audible. Stephen looked up in shook and just stared dumbly at him. "Tony?" he asked finally.
The words he wanted to say didn't come. Instead Tony dragged his hurting body across the floor before he fell to his knees in front of Stephen. He carefully took his hands and inspected the damage. They would never heal properly.
While Tony was busy staring at Stephen's ruined hands Stephen stared at the electrical magnet embedded in his friend's chest.
Neither of them moved and neither knew what to do next.