Marcus took a deep breath as he parked his car and switched off the ignition. Today was the day he would surrender his life; he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would not be a free man again for quite some time. He was at peace with it.

He had been fired ten months ago, had no employable skills and was left spending his nights on park benches. It gave him a lot of time to think, to think about his childhood, his parents and siblings. His failed marriage and his twelve year old son who he had not seen in nearly a decade. He wondered what his parents would think of him, his siblings, his son. Did they have any idea what he had been doing, or where he was now?

It had been during one of these cold, lonely nights when an elderly gentleman strolled up to him and simply handed him a hot sandwich. No questions asked and Marcus had taken it, scarfing down the first meal he had had in days. When he was done, the man sitting next to him pulled out a bag of chips and a bottle of water before handing it over and leaving a backpack behind before walking away.

At first, Marcus paid no attention to backpack, his focus was entirely on the food in front of him; he had never been so grateful for something so simple in his life. When he realized the chips were gone, Marcus opened the backpack and relief washed over him. Tucked were clean clothes, gift cards for various fast food restaurants, gloves, a hat, deodorant and a magazine. It was as he flipping through the magazine that a card fell out and that card had changed his life.

He had taken a chance and sought out the resources the business card had promised. Now, he had a stable job working as a janitor for a local church, was able to afford his own food and clothes and thanks to the church, had an apartment of his own to sleep in. The only requirement to receive the apartment was that he had to attend sessions with a mentor.

That mentor soon had become his confidant and slowly, their relationship evolved. Marcus' faith renewed itself and he found himself excited to attend church and learn healthy ways of coping. He was in service one Sunday morning when the church focused on the plight of missing people.

Instantly, his heart rate had increased- nobody knew of his past. But he forced himself to pay attention as the minister spoke about faith and prayer and everlasting hope that those missing would come home. Faces of missing people flashed across the stage screen as the minister gave information about them and Marcus froze.

He recognized one of them, a smiling beautiful blonde haired woman. Her eyes were alight with happiness and joy. He knew instantly who she was, recognized her immediately and his hand went to the scar on his finger she had given him.

"This is Special Agent Jennifer Jareau," the minister's voice sounded as if he was speaking directly to him, "She was abducted by three people almost a year ago, she has not been seen since. We ask that anyone who may know anything come forward so that Jennifer can come home. Her son needs her, her husband is desperate to bring her home."

It was just a tiny bit of information, but it was all Marcus needed. He sat in his apartment all day before picking up his phone and dialing his mentor's number. Half an hour later, Jose had walked in and sat with him as Marcus confessed.

"I was there man, I held her down as they tortured her." Marcus' entire body shook as he recalled what had happened to JJ. Jose listened and listened, he did not speak until Marcus looked at him.

"Marcus, is she dead?" Jose had whispered.

Marcus closed his eyes and nodded. "There is no way she'll live much longer."

Jose had nodded and grabbed his friend's hands before uttering a prayer. "We need to go to the FBI, Marcus."

And Marcus had agreed. The next morning, Marcus drove himself to the nearest FBI office and parked in the parking lot. He uttered a quick prayer, and slowly walked up to the security office.

"I… I need to speak with an agent." He said to the security guard. "Please."

"What is it regarding?" The guard had replied not seeming to be interested in anything Marcus was telling him.

"Agent Jareau." Marcus answered quickly and that got the guards attention.

"Don't move." The guard commanded and five minutes later, Marcus found himself in a small room. He paced and walked around, his hands sweating, not knowing what was going to happen when suddenly the door opened and a man walked in.

His entire demeanor caused Marcus to back away from him. "Sit down." The man pointed to a chair as he sat in another. "I hear you have information about a missing federal agent."

"Yes sir," Marcus replied, nodding.

"What can you tell me?" He asked and Marcus could tell he didn't believe him.

Marcus chewed on his lip for a moment and then stopped and took a deep breath. "How about I show you?"

The agent raised his eyebrows and nodded. Marcus pulled out his phone and entered a code into a protected website before handing the phone over to the agent.

There was silence for a few minutes, save for the horrific screams coming from the phone. Once it stopped, the agent handed the phone back over, this time his voice was softer.

"Is she still alive?" He asked

Marcus nodded and dialed in another code, but this time a timer popped up. "Do you see this, it's a countdown until the next time he goes live. I know what he is doing next, he will kill her when this timer gets to zero." He showed the agent the countdown. "He will kill her and live broadcast it in less than three hours."

The agent went pale. "Do you know where she is?" He asked, standing up.

Marcus bowed his head and not asking for any deal to save his soul, relayed an address to send the FBI to where Agent Jareau was being held. He just prayed it was in time. He prayed as he watched the agent run out the door, he prayed as he saw the clock keep counting down and he prayed that the FBI would arrest him, because once Eric's gang found out, Marcus was a dead man.

The door was open, he was not under arrest, but Marcus did not move. He stayed put as a flurry of activity rushed past him in an effort to get to the missing agent in time.