Being part of the gang means carrying the losses of those who left, the ghosts of former companions, companions who, without being by blood, were family.

But seeing you, he feels lost.

You are his daughter, his pride, so similar to your mother, the love of his life, his sweet Annabelle.

Dutch loves you so much, he really loves you, but it hurts more to see your face and notice in your eyes, in your smile, the reflection of a woman who died so many years ago.