Couldn't help myself :)P

Gaz knew she was a clone, and she hated it. Her father had never bothered to explain, but she only had to see the empty picture frames to realize over again that this thing they had – it wasn't a family. She and her brother were only duplicates of her father.

The science, the rules, the way he talked – Gaz could see her father in her brother with every move he made. And then she would stand motionless in front of the mirror, searching her reflection for something of her own. But no, there were his eyes glittering out from a face, his dark angled hair, his hands and snubbed fingertips. Once more she was reminded that she was not someone's daughter, and felt that tight sense of abandonment twisted in her gut like a metal coil.

They were experiments, she knew. The doctor had never wanted kids; he had wanted scientific wonders, miracle clones. And he had succeeded. But she saw the way he frowned when she or Dib failed to please him.

He would get irritated with them and also irritated with himself, as if he wanted his clones to be more like he - less like the children that they were. He was constantly disappointed, but what did he want of her? She couldn't be him. She couldn't be a rocket scientist or robot engineer or brain surgeon or genius inventor, she knew, and above all, she couldn't be him.

She saw the empty picture frames, a shadow in the mirror, the space at the kitchen table, (room for one more), and she wished for a mother. She didn't want to be her father. She just wanted to be someone's daughter, for one day, for one hour, for one minute.

Just to have someone listen to her without expectations, to ask her 'how do you feel?', to care, to hold her. She just wanted to be held, at least just for a moment.