Okay, so everybody's just suddenly gone, and a cop car drives off with Katrina and Lara. There's no paperwork, there are no reporters on the scene; there's nothing but Fearless and Wahlberg chatting about a long night's work. Fearless is still covered in fake sweat. The Platoon trumpet kicks in again, and Fearless zones out to see Freaktown standing on the roof of something, giving another finger-point. So Fearless, of course, needs to go on the roof and talk to himself. I think someone needs some therapy pretty damn soon, and if Wahlberg doesn't report this, he's not being a responsible partner.
Yeah, so predictably, Freaktown tells Fearless that he's not there because of the little girl; he's there to teach Fearless about life. "It wasn't your fault!" he repeats, saying over and over again that it wasn't Fearless's fault until Matt Damon breaks down and sobs on Robin Williams's shoulder. "Did you forget what today is?" Freaktown asks. Now, is it possible for a hallucination to remind a person about something he actually forgot? Because I could use a few hallucinations around my house, then. And one in my car. With a map in his hands.
Fearless Flashbacks to the war again; it's Freaktown's birthday. They've somehow got a cake, and they're using a Glo-Stick for a candle. Freaktown tells Fearless to sing, but Fearless won't do it. Freaktown says he still gets to make a wish. He asks Fearless to make him another promise. "Man, you got more requests than an AM radio," Fearless replies. From far away I hear Dennis Miller shout, "Oh, shut up, you jagoffs!" Freaktown requests this promise: "Next year, on my birthday, I want you to sing me a song." He says it doesn't have to be a birthday song, but that it must be loud and proud. Loud and proud. Over and over, loud and proud. Fearless promises, in order to shut him up. Next birthday, he'll sing the song.
Flashback ends, and Fearless laughs, claps his hands and says, "Happy birthday, Freak. Happy birthday, Freak." Then he sings "I Can See Clearly Now." Um, so it's been a year since Desert Storm? From below, Wahlberg smiles proudly, happy that his partner's now singing '70s songs from a roof, minutes after blowing away the entire Russian Mob with just two guns. "Yeah," Fearless says quietly, ending one of the worst hours of television I've ever been forced to watch.