Okay, I know Jazz is a little OOC in here, but who wouldn't be after something like this? Hope you all like. R & R please.
A knock on the door pulled him out of his thoughtless stare. "Who is it?" he called.
"It's Prowl. I have some Energon for you." Jazz didn't really want to be visited right now. Every morning Prowl tried to coax him out of his quarters, but he didn't want to go. He debated turning him away, but he was hungry. He gave the command for the door to open, but kept staring at the wall.
Prowl stared at the back of Jazz's head for a moment before stepping in. Without averting his gaze, he sat on Jazz's berth and stared at the mech sitting in his chair. "Are you watching the paint dry?"
Jazz continued staring at the blank wall for a moment before he turned to Prowl, with barely a smirk on his face. "Did you just crack a joke?" he asked.
Prowl shrugged. "I tried. Everyone says I have no sense of humor. Sparkplug says my humor is just dry." He handed the cube to Jazz, who took it and sipped slowly. "Come on, Jazz. This isn't that bad."
"Is it?" he asked. "How would ya know?"
"Well for one, you're still alive, you only lost your feet and a small portion of your legs." Jazz harumphed at that comment. Prowl continued. "Jazz, I didn't see that missile coming towards me. If you didn't tackle me, I would've been dead. Your quick thinking saved my life."
"And is that why ya've been trying ta come here and coax me out? Cause ya owe me or somethin'?" he fumed. "Prowl, I don' wanna leave mah quarters until mah replacement legs are done."
"I've been sent here with some news about your legs."
Jazz's demeanor brightened. "What is it?"
"Ratchet's waiting for a part to arrive so he can finish rebuilding them. It should–"
"Oh really?" Jazz interrupted. "That's what they said last time." He turned back to the wall and muttered angrily, "First mah optics, now mah feet. What's next, mah voice box? Am I gonna lose mah ability ta talk or sing? Or worse, maybe mah audios so I can' listen ta music!"
Prowl stared at him, listening to his venting and wondering what he was talking about. "Um...did I miss something?"
Jazz released air through his vents, imitating a sigh. Without looking at Prowl, he reached up, took his visor off, then handed it to Prowl. Prowl took the blue visor and examined it. "I don't see anything unusual about– what are these?" lining the top of the inside of the visor was 6 knobs.
"They're sensor nodes, Prowl. They hook up ta mah head, just under mah helmet. I'm blind without mah visor."
Prowl looked up at Jazz in shock. "I had no idea."
"Thah's cause I didn' tell anyone." Prowl had never heard Jazz sound so meek and vulnerable as he did right now. "The only ones who know are Prime and Ratchet." Jazz wrung his hands as he spoke. "Mah optics were damaged early on in the war. I was told they could be fixed, but the medic who was fixing meh claimed he was waiting for a part. By the time the part came in, it was too late for mah optics. They tried everything to fix them and make them work, but it just couldn't be done. Finally, they came up with this. It doesn't give meh perfect vision, but it works."
Prowl stared at the visor in his hands after Jazz finished speaking, soaking in his words. After a long, thick silence, he looked up and saw Jazz facing him. The protective plexiglass covers were missing, so Prowl was able to see the rounded metal darkened optics that lay underneath. Not knowing what to say, he reached up and replaced Jazz's visor, with Jazz only flinching a little from the unexpected contact. As Prowl pulled away and Jazz checked it to make sure it was in place, Prowl said, "I see that you haven't let being blind hinder your abilities. So why are you letting not being able to walk hinder your sociality?" Jazz opened his mouth to retort, but closed it immediately. "So, are you going to come out and stop hiding? Ratchet did give you this wheelchair so you weren't stuck in here. Use it, please."
"I see your point, man." Jazz finally said. "Would ya be willing ta push me out ta the rec room, Prowlie?"
"If you don't call me Prowlie, Jazz." Prowl stood and walked behind Jazz. He then grabbed the handles on the wheelchair Jazz was sitting in and pushed him out to join his friends.