The lab was silent, lit only by the screens and the articulated lamp on the table. Donatello paced nervously, holding a box in his hands. Every now and then he glanced at April's clone, who waited patiently, not quite understanding why he was so restless.

"W-Well…" Donnie stammered. "I… found something. Something that… I think you should try."

The clone tilted her head, curious. "What is it?" she asked in that soft voice, identical to the real April's.

"Donnie opened the box.*

Inside were the exact clothes April O'Neil used to wear: the yellow T-shirt with the number "5," the gray leggings, the denim shorts, the yellow headband, the brown wristbands, and the dark boots.

It took the clone a second to process what she saw.

"Do you want me to… put it on?" she said slowly.

Donatello nodded too quickly.

"Y-Yes. Only if you want to, obviously. It's just... I want to see something. Scientifically. To compare... uh... variables..." Her voice cracked with a mixture of anxiety and hope.

She didn't quite understand. But she knew one thing: she didn't want to disappoint him. So she carefully picked up the clothes and went to a metal panel to change.

Donnie waited, nervous. His fingers drummed on the table. Her logical mind told her that it was wrong to see her as the replacement for the real April O'Neil. But she didn't have the courage to say no, and Donatello wanted to take advantage of how naive she could be.

When she came back out... Donatello gasped.

The light reflected off her red hair, now pulled back in a low ponytail, the same hairstyle that the real April always wore. Her ocean-blue eyes shone, confused but serene.

"I-Is this okay?" she asked, uncertain.

Donnie took a step forward, dazed, as if he were watching a dream come true. "You..." he whispered. "You look... the same. Identical to my April."

She lowered her gaze, a little uncomfortable, but smiled so as not to shatter his illusion.

Donatello swallowed. "April…" he murmured without thinking, his tone entirely dreamy, almost broken.

The clone felt a pang of discomfort inside. She wasn't April. But he looked at her as if she were. And she… she just wanted to be kind. She didn't know any other way to act. So she took a small step toward him.

"Are you okay, Donnie?" she said, using the nickname with a tenderness that wasn't hers, but that he seemed to need.

Donatello closed his eyes for a moment. Hearing her call him Donnie like that… in that way… the way he always dreamed the real April would… When he looked at her again, he had that mixture of hope, devotion, and pain that so characterized him when it came to April.

"April…" he repeated, his voice barely a whisper, moving a little closer. "You're… perfect."

She nodded, trying to play the role he expected. Though she didn't quite understand why. Though she didn't know if she was being herself… or simply a living mirror of the redhead girl Donatello loved.

"Donnie... I'm not April," she whispered, trying to remind him of something he already knew... but was beginning to ignore.

A nervous, slightly mischievous smile formed on the genius's face. Her hands fidgeting, she took a step back… until the back of her hip bumped against the edge of the metal table.

"Donnie blinked, as if snapping back to reality for a moment, but the smile didn't disappear. It just became more shy.* "It's just that…" he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "You look so… so…"

I knew she wasn't April. But he… he was looking at her as if she could be.