I don't own Roswell or Walking Dead...this is all for fun

So this is a weird idea I got a while ago and I'm going to run with it. I hope to mix in the main characters of both shows eventually, but I'm not sure when that's going to happen. So for now its just Ava in the Walking Dead "universe"

This cannot be happening…Ava stumbled to her knees as she ran around a corner and found herself face to face with a line of soldiers in full body armor. She recovered quickly and stood to follow the directions currently being blasted by giant speakers into the chaos. She rushed along with her fellow refugees as they passed to the side of the very serious looking line of defense and entered a long queue hoping for entrance into the only safe zone left in Atlanta.

Her knees were scraped and bloody, but she barely even registered the stinging pain as she waited impatiently for the medical corps to pass or fail those waiting ahead of her. Behind her she felt the press of others as they pushed and surged forward as a large mass of human bodies. The sounds around her were deafening; screams and cries, mixed in with the distant sound of gunfire and explosions. She honestly didn't even know why she was trying to enter this safe zone, it was obvious that the entire city was overrun, and the only smart thing to do was flee. But how? They were everywhere!

For weeks, she, along with her neighbors, had watched the news as story after story came out of the bizarre disease spreading across the globe. At first, she dismissed it as some crazy prank, but then the videos had started popping up online…YouTube had actually crashed because of the amount of "zombie-videos" being uploaded. One by one, cities went dark, no one left to run the infrastructures meant TV and radio stations were left without electricity to broadcast…the news just stopped getting out.

Then Atlanta had its first case.

The panic that the one lone figure striding down a random street caused was epic. Everyone knew what it meant, the disease was here. No one knew what to do except steal and hoard as much water and food as they could, barricade themselves inside buildings and homes, and wait for someone else to solve the problem.

Ava stepped forward when a doctor waved her as next in line and then quickly took control of his mind and made him believe he was drawing her blood, while not a drop trickled into the tube.

"Do you even know what you're looking for in my blood?" She asked testily as she forced herself to relax and pretended to feel the needle to puncture her vein. Any refusal on her part would get her nothing but a bullet to the head, as she had seen more than once. The soldiers didn't believe in quarantining the suspected anymore, just one bullet ended the chance of the disease entering the safe zone. They were desperate and paranoid.

"The CDC has been working hard at making antidotes, you're in the right city." Was the answer she got from a very tired nurse at her side. She didn't bother responding that Atlanta may be home to the CDC, but it wasn't going to do them any good.

"Go to the right and proceed straight to Decontamination." The nurse waved her through and she joined yet another queue, this one leading towards a large tent city where she could only imagine she was going to be hosed off and given new clothes in a useless effort at keeping the infection out of the safe zone.

It was the same in every safe zone she had entered since the National Guard took over the city and began the mandatory evacuations of the civilian population. First was the useless blood draw, which she had faked every time, not willing to allow her alien DNA to be taken from her…followed by blistering hot showers, clean second hand clothes probably stolen from a Goodwill or Salvation Army, and then she would be issued a cot somewhere until the government figured out there wasn't anything they could do for the people of Atlanta and they pulled out. So far, Ava had been a temporary resident of five different safe zones, all of which fell within weeks of her getting there as food became scarce and the inhabitants began getting infected.

She couldn't tell them their precautions were useless though. They would ask questions, too many questions that she couldn't answer. There was no way she could tell them that she was a refugee from an alien world, former Royalty even; one of two clones made from the DNA of a murdered alien queen. Nor could she say that the one who had murdered her, and her husband, had developed the very disease ravaging her new home planet as a weapon in his Revolution against her husband's government.

They would either think she was crazy, and shoot her because psychiatric help was clearly out of the question in this apocalyptic present and a quick end was the kindest option, or they would believe her and shoot her because "her people" had caused this mess. Or the third option was they believe her and then ship her off to be a guinea pig in some underground CDC lab in a last ditch effort to understand the disease…as if her biology had anything to do with what was going on. It didn't.

She couldn't believe she was living through this again…but this time she was alone. No husband, no friends, no one who even knew who she really was, what she really was. She thought about the others as she walked into a women's tent-locker room stripped off her dirty clothes with about fifty other women.

Was Roswell infected? Were Max and the others even in Roswell anymore? Almost ten years ago she had left her doppelganger's group behind, forced to make her way alone when Rath and Lonnie's plot to kill Max had been thwarted after he refused to go along with their plans at the intergalactic conference in NYC.

Growing up in the sewers of New York City, she had believed the claim that they were the real Royal Five, not the group in Roswell. She was Ava, Zan was her husband and the true king of Antar, Rath and Lonnie the real reincarnations of her sister-in-law Princess Vilandra and her betrothed. The others were just copies, clones of a clone, Plan B, flawed and too-human but a necessary backup. It didn't even matter now…Kivar had won his ultimate victory. Was the real king her Zan or Max in Roswell? Who cares…Zan was killed a decade ago by his supposed best friend and Max, if he still lived, was probably running and hiding from hordes of hungry "dead heads". Earth was finished.