This is a story that I couldn't get out of my head. For those of you reading The Choice, I am still writing that one, too. Chapter 8 is well on its way! I just needed to get this written down so it would stop distracting me. Thanks again to everyone who is reading and reviewing my stories. It really does mean a lot. And I hope you like the first chapter of Arrival.

I can feel the heat but I don't open my eyes. Sleeping in isn't an option here, surrounded by so many other people, but that doesn't stop me from trying to steal a few more minutes.

I pull my blanket closer to my chin just as the sun creeps across my face insisting that it's morning, that soon I will be needed, and ignoring it is useless. I sit up and stretch, seeing that most everyone is already awake, dressed, and preparing for the day. I reach down under my cot and grab my duffel bag that contains everything I brought with me. I sling the strap across my body and weave through the sea of cots and people who have now become like family to me to exit the tent.

There is a line for the community restrooms, but the wait doesn't bother me. I am used to it after six months here. And the wait gives me a chance to prepare myself for the day. It's not as if I could ever know what to expect like I did back home in an actual hospital, but still, the few minutes of quiet are priceless.

I am lost in thought when Owen Hunt nudges my arm. "Your turn," he says and nods his head in the direction of the restroom he just vacated. I give him a smile of thanks and step inside. Owen says we are lucky to have separate rooms because in other places he has been they just shared one large open room with a few shower heads and sinks. I don't know if "lucky" is the right word, but I can't say I don't appreciate the privacy. I close the door behind me, lean against it, and take a second to breathe in the solitude. It's easier to block out the noise in here. The plastic walls don't conceal all sound by any means, but it is enough to feel a bit of privacy for a moment. I drop my bag on the dusty floor and begin to strip off my clothes. A broken, rusty mirror hangs on the wall across from me and I catch my reflection in it. On the outside, I haven't changed all that much. Of course, the desert sun has tanned my skin, and I look thinner. Not weaker, but thinner. But the real changes have all happened on the inside, the part of me that the mirror cannot capture.

I came here for so many reasons. I needed to escape. I needed to be better. I needed to be anywhere but there.

I yank the ponytail holder from around my bun and let my hair fall down my back. I never wear it down here so sometimes I forget just how long it is. The handle on the wall squeaks when I turn it and the shower head sputters to life, spraying cold water on to my feet. I step under the spray, and my body tenses at first from the chill, then relaxes. This will be the only time today I am not overwhelmed with heat, so I cannot complain about the water. I grab what I need out of my bag and shower quickly, remembering the line of people waiting for their turn.

The clothes I pull out to wear are exactly the same as the ones I slept in, except these just came back from the laundry service. It usually takes about a week to get clean uniforms back, so I always look forward to wearing a clean one the first day it arrives. I tuck my camouflage pants into my boots and lace them up. This process has become second nature. My tan shirt is tucked in as well, and I decide against putting my outer top on because the heat has made its appearance early this morning, and I will be more comfortable without it.

I sweep my hair back into a bun again, make sure to brush my teeth and apply deodorant. The last part of my routine is always putting on sunscreen, not that it could ever fully block the rays here, but I would be foolish not to use it. I glance in the mirror one more time when I finish, and I can't help but think about how different my morning routine is over here. I used to spend so much time getting my hair and make-up just right, and I haven't cared about either of those things since I stepped off the helicopter. I laugh to myself at how silly it all seems now, but then I think twice, and swipe some mascara across my eyelashes quickly. A hint of the old April looks back at me, and I can't decide if I feel less homesick or more.

I toss all my belongings back in my bag and place my stethoscope around my neck as it is usually the first thing I need when treating patients here. The line for the bathrooms is much shorter now, and I hurry back to my cot knowing it won't be long before I am needed. I drop my bag to the ground and scoot it under my cot with my foot.

"Care to be part of the welcome wagon?"

I look up to see Nathan Riggs, hands on his hips, smiling at me.

"The welcome wagon? Who are we welcoming?" I ask him.

"The new group of doctors arrives today, remember? I thought you would be a good person to give them the tour. You know what it is like when you land here and reality hits that you actually signed up for this. You get that pit in your stomach and all you want to do is get back on the helicopter and go wherever it is headed. So, it's our job to make this all a little less terrifying for them. You in?" he sums up the experience of arriving here perfectly.

"Sure. But the tour? I guess I can start with the community bathrooms. That should get them excited," I am not usually this sarcastic, but saying I will give them a tour makes this place sound like a vacation destination which it certainly is not.

"Maybe save that for later. I'll get Megan to help you. You two make a great team. Besides, you keep all of us thinking positively when things get crazy, so you'll probably make a great first impression," he is trying to convince me, I can tell, but he doesn't have to. I want to help.

"Of course, I'll show them around. When are they supposed to be here?"

"Any minute actually. Megan's already headed over to the sand pit if you want to meet her there."

"Sounds good," I say and turn to leave.

"Keps!" Nathan calls after me. I turn around and he tosses me a canteen of water. "Take this. It's brutal out there today."

"Thanks." I reply and wrap the strap of the canteen across my body.

The sand pit is an appropriate name for the helicopter landing area because that is exactly what it is – sand, as far as you can see. The helicopters land here so they are far enough away from the military tents not to damage them, and for safety. Dropping down in a completely open area allows the pilot and the passengers to see everything around them and assess their surroundings so there aren't any surprises. There haven't been any issues since I arrived. Every once in a while, we get the occasional camel strolling by, but that's all the excitement that has come from the sand pit as far as I know.

"Meg!"

She is standing with her back to me looking out over the mountains when I arrive. She turns and smiles.

"Hey girl! I see Nathan roped you into this as well," I laugh.

"Yeah, I guess we're the friendly faces that will make this all seem not so bad," she says shielding her eyes and turning back to admire the horizon.

"Is it so bad? We're helping people, aren't we? A lot of the people laying in that tent back there would be dead already if we weren't here."

She glances over at me and begins searching the sky for a glimpse of our incoming allies. "April Kepner. Always the optimist."

They say that about me a lot. I'm the optimistic one, the one who motivates them to keep going, "the machine" Nathan says. But I wasn't always that way. They wouldn't have recognized me if they knew me before.

"It's kinda beautiful in a way," I think aloud. "You know, there is a magic hour, right around sunset where the sun bounces light of the sand and across the mountains. Sometimes it's almost enough to forget all the bad things we see here.

Megan shakes her head, smirking. "See what I mean? Only you could find beauty here."

I roll my eyes. "Maybe. Or maybe Jordan has just changed my perspective. Life has a funny way of giving us just what we need when we least expect it."

I can see by her face that she is about to comment again on my outlook on life, but her response is drowned out by the unmistakable rhythm of helicopter blades whipping the air as it prepares to land.

We both shield our eyes to look up at the approaching chopper and do our best to keep our hair tucked neatly in place against the wind.

"Game time!" Megan yells through the noise, and we watch as the pilot expertly lowers the helicopter to the ground.

Knowing the routine of welcoming new people, Megan and I split, each running to one side of the chopper to greet the passengers as they pile out. The doors open on each side, and I can see that this trip has brought us four new recruits. Four new doctors, who for some reason, left their lives behind to come to Jordan. All of us are here for a specific reason – a patient, an event, a person who pushed us out of our comfort zone and into the desert. I have yet to learn their stories, but I know that it won't take long for the pressure of this place to force it out of them.

I duck down unnecessarily as I approach the helicopter, knowing I am nowhere tall enough to be hit by the slowing blades, and I stop a few feet from the open door. Two doctors, dressed in newly purchased Army gear with perfect creases, jump out of the helicopter and survey their surroundings. I recognize the look on their faces – a mix of exhilaration and terror. I had the same one.

After a moment, they see me. They sling their bags onto their shoulders and walk to where I wait for them.

I smile and hold my hand out to shake theirs, and maybe offer a bit of comfort. The first doctor, a woman with dark eyes and dark hair, grips my hand firmly, and tells me her name.

"Dr. Yang!" she yells to be heard, "Cristina Yang!"

I turn to the other doctor. He is tall and looks refined, as if he belongs in a board room and not in the middle of the desert. I offer him my hand as well, and I can't help but notice how the desert sun highlights the color of his eyes.

"Jackson Avery!" he calls out over the hum of the blades, taking my hand in his.

"I'm April Kepner!" I call back to him, "Welcome to Jordan!"