NCIS: Best Shots

Chapter Twenty-Four: Hotel California

On a dark desert highway, cool wind in my hair

Warm smell of colitas rising up through the air

Up ahead in the distance I saw a shimmering light

My head grew heavy and my sight grew dimmer

I had to stop for the night

Mike Franks drove on the darkening highway with no particular destination in mind except a bar. Cool wind danced through the open windows of his ancient truck and ruffled his graying black hair. He could smell the warm, tantalizing scent of colitas drifting up through the air.

His head suddenly grew heavy and his sight dimmed with fatigue as he saw a shimmering light up ahead.

Just a little farther, he told himself, before I stop for the night.

There she stood in the doorway

I heard the mission bell

And I was thinking to myself,

'This could be Heaven or this could be Hell'

Then she lit up a candle and she showed me the way

There were voices down the corridor, I thought I heard them say

The retired NIS agent slowed to a stop outside an old hotel. A beautiful woman stood in the doorway, fixing him with her steely gaze. With a wave of her hand, she gestured for Franks to follow.

As he stepped forward, Mike heard the mission bell tolling. He thought, This could be Heaven or this could be Hell.

Meanwhile, his guide lit up a candle and showed him the way to his room down the corridor. Was it his imagination, or were there voices saying . . .

Welcome to the Hotel California

Such a lovely place (such a lovely place)

Such a lovely face

Plenty of room at the Hotel California

Any time of year (any time of year), you can find it here

After checking into his room, Mike decided to wander around for a while and explore. In the center of Hotel California, he found an open courtyard. One figure looked slightly familiar.

What's Ziva doing here? Or that lady director, for that matter?

Her mind is Tiffany-twisted, she got the Mercedes bends

She got a lot of pretty, pretty boys that she calls friends

How they dance in the courtyard, sweet summer sweat

Some dance to remember, some dance to forget

Both women had minds that were Tiffany-twisted, but Jenny had the Mercedes bends. Director Sheppard also had a lot of guys that she called friends, Leroy Jethro Gibbs among them.

As Franks watched from against a pillar, Ziva grabbed—Tony?—and started to dance. It was some dance to remember, yet some dance to forget.

So I called up the Captain,

'Please bring me my wine'

He said, 'We haven't had that spirit here since nineteen sixty nine'

And still those voices are calling from far away

Wake you up in the middle of the night

Just to hear them say . . .

Welcome to the Hotel California

Such a lovely place (such a lovely place)

Such a lovely face

They living it up at the Hotel California

What a nice surprise (what a nice surprise), bring your alibis

Franks called up the captain and ordered a beer. The guy commented, "You know, we haven't had that spirit here since 1969."

"Really?" Mike asked as he took a swig.

"Oh, yes." The captain nodded sagely.

The former NIS agent could still hear the voices calling in the distance. Downing the rest of his shot, he ambled off to his own room and crashed, only to be awoken a few hours later by voices. They said, Welcome to the Hotel California. Such a lovely place, such a lovely face. They livin' it up at the Hotel California. What a nice surprise—bring your alibis.

Franks grouched, "You woke me up in the middle of the night just to hear you guys say that?"

Yes, the voices replied. Now, get up. There's something you should see. Someone's waiting for you.

"Huh?"

But the voices were gone.

Mirrors on the ceiling,

The pink champagne on ice

And she said, 'We are all just prisoners here, of our own device'

And in the master's chambers

They gathered for the feast

They stab it with their steely knives

But they just can't kill the beast

His room's door swung open before Franks could grumble a reply. In the doorway stood the same woman who'd welcomed him to the hotel. Without a word, she motioned for him to follow her. The old NIS agent did, wondering what was going down.

Mirrors laced the ceiling. Whenever Mike looked up, he saw his own reflection staring back at him.

There was seriously something wrong with this place, what with the voices, mirrors, and pink champagne on ice. As if reading his thoughts, his guide said, "We are all just prisoners here, of our own device."

"I don't suppose you could clarify that?"

She clammed up and continued walking toward the master's chambers.

"Figures," Mike Franks muttered before hastily catching up. What he saw next made him freeze in the entrance.

Several men, women, and even a few teens were gathered around a table ready for a feast. Steel flashed silver as they each tried to stab a huge hog, but they just couldn't kill the beast.

DiNozzo, David, and Director Sheppard, he was pleased to note, were nowhere to be seen.

Last thing I remember, I was

Running for the door

I had to find the passage back

To the place I was before

'Relax,' said the night man,

'We are programmed to receive.

You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.'

The last thing the retired agent remembered, he had bolted for the door. He had to find the passage back to his car.

A night man looked up calmly as Franks exploded into the lobby, gun drawn. "Relax. We are programmed to receive here at the Hotel California. You can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave."

Maniacal laughter echoed in the room as Mike stood shell-shocked in horror.

Then his eyes snapped open on darkness. The Eagles singing "Life in the Fast Lane" floated through the room.

Glaring at the beer bottle in his hand, Franks vowed, "I am not going to fall asleep again while drinking and listening to the Eagles."

Now, if only he could keep it . . .