Chapter 1

It was just another tour, just like the countless others he had done in the past.

And he had been doing it for the last twenty years; first only locally, then nationally and when the fame overcame him, all around the world. But that had happened only years after he had started his musical career.

Ah, being Richard Castle, the frontman and songwriter for two of the most important hard rock and heavy metal bands of his age, and mystery writer in his spare time, had its perks, but also its demands. One of them was touring.

And having just crossed the line of forty years old, being on the road, away from home for so long, had started taking its toll on him. Not that he didn't enjoy it anymore, after all, the crowds cheering and singing and moshing while they were on stage was like oxygen to him, and come hell or high water he loved being among his fans, signing CDs and taking pictures with them. He was known among the fans for his calm and amicable aptitude with the people that asked him to sign their copy of the new album they had just released or for a photo together. If he could, he'd meet every single fan that waited outside venues for them, sometimes daring North Pole like temperatures or scalding hot sun.

He wasn't exactly fond of press duties though, except when the non-professional came in and asked the funniest fangirling questions. That was the only side of press duty he liked; with time and expansion of the Internet, tons of websites run by fans, and wannabe professional journalists became popular, some of them had valid elements and he preferred those kind of interviews. Roundtables were boring, press conferences were dull. One on one interview with a fan? Fun as hell, because they knew everything and outside the standard questions they asked at times, or questions he could be a bit of a jerk at answering. He loved to make them laugh.

He also wasn't a fan of waiting at airports, running around with his baggage wasn't exactly his preferred activity, but he still liked going on tour.

And most importantly he wasn't fond of leaving his daughter home alone with his mother for half of the spring and the whole summer, that's all.

His manager had just called to tell him not to take any commitments from April to October. That could only mean one thing: national tour in late spring and summer festival tour in Europe. Maybe a couple of gigs in Asia and Australia too, if they could stick them somewhere in time.

He knew the gig, after so many years. He had also learned to dread that call, sometimes, because you never know if it's a call for a tour of the label pursuing for a new release.

But it had been almost a year since the last tour, they had released an album and only made a short national one because Jeff, the drummer, had a newborn to take care of and a not so happy wife to let him go. Being on the road again all together would be nice, after all; there hadn't been lots of chances to meet up with the band after that one short tour, many months before, and even the other band, his main project, was now on hiatus for various reasons. They couldn't even just call each other and meet for a drink, he was the only one that lived in New York. The rest of the band lived in Los Angeles except for Damian, bassist and long time best friend, that lived in Long Island.

He was the only native New Yorker, that was the price to pay for forming a band while in college. People came and went from all the states, they often preferred to go back home after that.

Now that the band was booked, even if it was only January, it was only a matter of leaving the economical and logistic aspects to his manager, then sign the contract, along with the supporting act. They weren't excessively demanding, not like in the early days when the game had turned them punch drunk idiots that followed M tley Crue's teachings about being a rock star to the letter. There had been days of destroyed hotel rooms, expensive champagne poured in the toilet for the heck of it, drunkenly disorder that left their manager to fight with the local police. Maybe bribe them too.

Nah, those days were long gone. Now they only required some place quiet to chill before and after the gig, some beverages, WiFi coverage and a vegetarian meal for Jim. Often promoters were marveled by meager requests, and he kind of like it that way.

He was trying to raise Alexis so she wouldn't turn into a spoiled brat like many rock star kids were. Her mother was already a bad example on her own, he didn't need to add more fuel to that.

As he entered the loft, back from a trip to the grocery store round the corner, he was greeted by the usual silence that reigned sovereign when his daughter was home studying. He rarely heard much more than the pages of her school books as she turned them.

So much for being the daughter of a rock star. Alexis Castle was a quiet kid, not much different from what he had been at her age, though less angry and frustrated than him.

Same love for music though, that ran through their veins with their blood. He wasn't a fan of Taylor Swift like she was, but she loved Patti Smith just as much, that was enough for him.

He walked upstairs to her room: the door was opened, Alexis had her nose stuck to a book as usual.

"Hey Pumpkin, how are you doing?" he asked, moving to stand behind her.

"Fine. Calculus is killing me again but fine. You got everything for dinner?" She didn't even move her eyes from the book.

"Yeah. Listen, I got a call while I was out. Gina is working to get me on tour with Rising Storm for the summer."

That distracted her from the numbers and letters on the page. "From spring to when?"

Oh, she knew the gig too, after so long. He nodded. "Yep. Probably national tour in the spring and summer festivals and some sparse gigs in Europe. Are you OK with that?"

"You're joking right? You out of the way while I have finals? Total paradise!"

He ruffled her hair. "You sure? Gram's going to go over the top while I'm away."

"Still better than you writing vocal lines in the middle of the night. Dad, really, I'll be just fine. I'm the responsible one in the family after all."

"Weird as it sounds, you are. Do you want to go to LA after school is over?"

She shook her head. "I have to hold the fort while you're having fun at Waken and Summerbreeze."

"Not sure about Waken, maybe Metal Camp. Gina is still working on the details, she'll let me know in a while."

"Do you know who you're touring with?"

"That's part of the details I don't know yet. I'll tell you when I learn it."

Alexis chuckled. "I bet Blabbermouth will publish it before Gina tells you guys."

"Right, so you'll tell me when you read it online, I get it. Go back to your homework, I'll start dinner."

Same old story after all. Even his sixteen year old daughter knew how it worked. Write an album, publish it, go on tour, rinse and repeat ad nauseam. Still better than the book tours his publicist kept booking for him even if he hated them. Mystery novels readers tended to be a boring crowd, compared to a bunch of metalheads. He loved writing as much as he loved singing on stage, but calm and quiet lines of people asking for autographs weren't his type.

Headbanging, screaming moshing dudes and gals singing every line of every song? Best feeling ever.

Meanwhile, sitting at a cluttered desk of the Homicide Division of the 12th Precinct of New York City, a young detective worked on the new case that had dropped the day before. A pony express had been murdered and his bag stolen. Weird cases are her favorite. She was running through the guy's financials when her desk phone rang.

"Detective Beckett," she answered, mechanically, expecting someone from the coroner's office.

"Kate Beckett?" asked an unknown female voice. "The singer of Undercover Job?"

Oh. Someone was calling her for her band. "Yes, this is she. How did you get this number?"

"I have friends," said the voice. She sounded annoyed by the question. "I'm Gina Cowell, manager of Rising Storm and The Gallows. I'm organizing a spring and summer tour for Rising Storm and a colleague recommended your band as a supporting act. I'm not sure though, you've only released a self-produced album that got you signed with our label, you don't sound too experienced," she explained. "Certainly not enough for such a long tour."

Hearing the names of the bands she represented, she nearly had a heart attack. "We're not kids, Miss Caldwell. We can handle it."

"Have you ever toured for so long? I'm talking of a period of time that extends from late April to mid October."

"No, never."

"Do you think you can handle the stress?"

It sounded like an interrogation. Beckett had heard of Gina Cowell, the top manager of the record label they had just signed with. She worked only with the best bands, the bigger ones, the fact that she was calling her to discuss a probable tour with Rising Storm, one of the top hard rock bands of the United States made her slightly uncomfortable. She shifted a little bit on her seat before she spoke again.

"I'm a cop, I eat stress for breakfast," the reply sounded harsher than how she meant it to be.

"I'm talking about long hours on the road, five concerts a week and little to no privacy."

"Sounds like the academy. Miss Cowell, if you're worried we might give up on you in the middle of the tour, you're badly mistaken. I might be a woman but I work in a field that's historically considered as a man's job. I'm tough. I can handle it. And my guys too."

The guys were the other members of the band, second guitarist, bassist and the drummer, herbeloved cousin Jay. All men, she was the only woman. Not a rare sight but still not that common, at least in hard rock. There were bands in Europe that had female singers and front women since the nineties, but they were mostly symphonic or gothic metal bands. Totally a different genre. Hard rock, it was more of a man's world, like being a cop. She was used to being surrounded by guys, and being the only girl didn't bother her. She had learned how to keep them in check and be respected in both environments. No way she'd get trampled by a bitchy, spoiled manager.

After a long pause of silence, the manager spoke again. "I'll keep that in mind. Good evening, Detective Beckett."

She hung up and for a moment she sat there, immobile, as if frozen in place. Was that actually happening or was she dreaming? It did feel like the precursor of a burnout, it was so unreal... Gina Caldwell was really taking an emergent band into consideration for the supporting act of Rising Storm? It didn't make sense. Or did it?

Lost in her thoughts, Beckett also lost track of time. She kept replaying the phone call in her head, mentally smacking herself for the way she had handled it.

Captain Montgomery pulled her back from her trance like state. "Is everything alright?"

Luckily, he knew about her hobby, his son was kind of a fan and he had come to more than a few concerts in the past (with half of the precinct) so she wasn't afraid to speak about it.

"Sir, if I didn't blow all my chances by being a total bitch with the label's top manager, do you think I can ask for a leave of absence from April to October?"

Word Count: 2063

Thanks to Alex for the beta reading and the support and to the amazing alyssinmymind for the cover art (that I can't upload because the site is being a little bit bitchy today, gonna try later). Also, I'm going to make a post on Tumblr to link all the songs that I'm gonna put in here, because there are two real musicians behind this AU version of Castle and Beckett. Your job to find who they are.