"Four millimetres lateral to the hippocampus. I saw it!"
Foreman announces the position with utter conviction. He's seen something – but how positive can one be, in that split second before blood continues rushing through the maze on screen? He's says it again; there's fervour in his voice. Passion twists through his words and implores House to believe him.
House shifts; swiftly studies the screen. No clot in sight.
He turns to Foreman.
No mistakes allowed in his operating room. This is about control. Foreman isn't stupid – and House respects him for it. And they know the consequences. The little girl behind them is technically already dead, in an attempt to save her life.
The machines beep rhythmically. Lights flash to warn the doctors that the time has passed. There is doubt in the room; a sceptical doctor diagnoses a vegetative state. House sees Foreman's mind as it were his, but still hesitates, in a situation where time equals life. He nods slightly; catches his breath.
"I saw it!"
It's the third appeal he makes; House concurs.
"That's good enough for me."
It always is with Foreman.
And she's already dead. He'll only save her now.
He's breathing hard, deeply, in the unusually small operating room. There are simply too many people in here, doctors on all sides; and those who watch with blank, staring expressions from above. He feels light headed.
"I saw it!"
He almost shouts this out; eyes open wide. The masks suffocate him; they itch at the side of his face and gag him, making him feel as though he's choking, and there isn't enough air in the room to let him breathe.
Trust me for once! His mind is screaming at House in the seconds between his plea and the panicked doctor's statement denouncing House's indecisiveness, forcing a resolution.
His breathing is shallow still; he still breathes fast. The clot is there! He saw it; heightened awareness of the brain from four years intensive specialist training means he sees things that aren't usual in the brain.
It wasn't an eye twitch, a head movement, or a speck of dust landing on the screen. It was the clot, and House knows this. Foreman knows he's right to doubt; knows that he would do the same, but the girl is dead. There just isn't time.
"That's good enough for me."
Damn right is it. He exhales out again.