Disclaimer: Again, I do not own any characters from the original movie

Normal POV:

Keira Suarez dismissed the flight attendant when she was asked for anything and looked out the window. The clouds cleared and she could see towns below on the Cuban land. Her heart fluttered up in her chest at the thought. She was going to be home. At nineteen years of age, having just graduated from Colorado High School, Keira was told from many family friends she was the cutting image of her father. Mother always dismissed such compliments with terse remarks and dark looks. She wanted to forget father, but Keira refused.

She held the small picture in her hands, gazing at it lovingly. It was the only picture she had managed to hide from her mother. She had burned all of the rest. It was a picture of father and mother dancing. They both looked so happy it brought tears to Keira's eyes. She shook her head, wiping away her tears and looking out the window again.

Normal POV:

Pablo cursed quietly to himself and looked up when a plane flew overhead. He would never get used to these cursed planes landing stupid Americans who thought they still owned Cuba. Not many true Cubans lived on the land any more, let alone Havana. Americans and modernized everything, making everything of American make. The Cubans still living in Havana had low class jobs and served the Americans.

'It was as if the rebellion years ago had never happened', Pablo thought bitterly. Nothing had improved as Pablo's parents, now both dead, thought. Mobs and uprisings still occurred but this time it was between fellow free-living Cubans.

A shout brought Pablo out of his dark thoughts and he picked up his towel, wiping his sweat soaked face before going back to the circle of people. In order to keep himself and his sister alive, he gave dance instructions in hotels in American Cuba, as they were high paying customers and wanted to 'blend in with Cuban society', or so they said.

Keira stepped out of the airport and took a deep breath of the warm, moist Cuban air. 'Oh how I have missed you, Havana.' She thought to herself with a happy sigh. She looked around at the bustling crowd around the airport, mostly Americans, she noted. She gripped her briefcase tightly and began walking, tucking a loose strand of her curly black hair behind her ear.

A voice interrupted her happy thoughts. "¿Necesita usted algún ayuda a encontrar algo, senoríta?" 'Do you need help finding something, miss?' Keira turned to see a young woman, about her age, smiling brightly. Keira was so excited to see a fellow Cuban she just stared blankly at the woman, who frowned. "I am sorry. I do not speak English well…do you need…"

Keira smiled. "Lo siento. Hablo español. Sí, querría alguna ayuda." 'I'm sorry. I do speak Spanish. Yes, I would like some help.'

The woman smiled and when Keira explained she hadn't been to Cuba for years and was looking for somewhere to stay that would not cost too much money, she told Keira she would be happy to let Keira stay at her home until she found a job. Keira thanked her gratefully and followed the woman to her home. "I live here with my brother but he probably will not protest to you staying here for a while." She said to Keira in Spanish. Keira thanked her and took a small tour of the cozy home. It was not large and elaborate like mother's home, but it was welcoming and was in Cuba, so it was good enough for her.

Pablo's POV:

I was annoyed to hear two women's voices in the living room. I hated it when Elisa brought home friends. My annoyance turned to shock when I heard the unfamiliar voice speaking Spanish. It was an American! I could tell by the dulled accent and blunt words used that it was an American, who knew Spanish.

I stormed into the living room and saw a young woman sitting in father's old chair where he had used to read Elisa and himself stories every night. She looked over at Pablo, the smile from Elisa's joke still on her face. 'My God, she is gorgeous!' I thought to myself. She stood up awkwardly, her cheeks slightly pink. "Hola. Mi nombre es Keira. ¿Usted es Pablo, yo presumo?" 'Hello. My name is Keira. You are Pablo, I presume?'

I folded my arms. "Yes and I speak English." I said bluntly, my accent chopping up the English words as much as Keira cut up the Spanish words.

Normal POV:

Keira smiled lightly. "Oh. Thank goodness. I haven't spoken Spanish in so long I felt like a fool when your sister kept correcting me!" She said with a small laugh. Her voice still had a bit of a Spanish accent, but it was small.

Pablo frowned. "You look Spanish but you are American." He said with another small frown.

Keira nodded and sat down when Pablo sat down beside his sister. "I used to live here in Cuba with my mother and father but my father was killed in a riot and my mother took me with her to America. She didn't want to remember my father any more."

Pablo nodded and glanced out the window before looking at Keira again. "So you ran away from home like a spoiled little girl to learn about Cuba's dark past?"

A small frown touched Keira's full lips. "No. I came home like a grown woman wanting to know about Cuban dance."

Pablo watched her carefully for some sign of a smile. It seemed like one big joke. He stood up quietly and walked to the door. He paused at the door but didn't look back. "No existe el baile cubano ya." He said softly. 'There is no such thing as Cuban dance anymore'

Keira's POV:

"Don't you pay him any mind, Keira. He teaches Americans to dance so we can eat. He has a distaste for Americans." Elisa said in Spanish with a smile.

I smiled faintly and looked to where he went. 'But I'm not American.' I protested quietly.

I woke up the next morning on the couch, shocked to hear familiar music outside. She jumped up, tossing the blankets aside and looked out the living room window. Pablo was outside dancing with several people Keira recognized from yesterday as neighbors and people who lived nearby.

I watched with amazement at how easily he moved to the music. The heat didn't seem to bother him but he was sweating freely, his dark hair soaked from sweat. Elisa was outside, laughing and dancing small steps every now and then, but just watching her brother and everyone else have a good time in front of the houses. I stepped outside, pulling my messy hair back in a ponytail and standing beside Elisa. I recognized the beat to the music and found myself humming to the beat when I had it figured out.

A young man, probably three years older than me walked up to me with a bright smile. "Hola hermoso. ¿La Havana nueva?" 'Hello beautiful. New to Havana?'

I smiled nervously and opened my mouth to reply but Pablo stepped up beside the young man. "Ella es Americana, Carlos. Sálgale es. Ella probablemente no le puede entender." 'She is American, Carlos. Leave her be. She probably can't understand you.'

I frowned, partially in embarrassment and partially in anger. "Yo le puedo entender ambos muy bien, señor. Y yo no quiero el tono que usted utiliza conmigo. Yo no soy algún Americano estúpido. ¡Soy cubano!" 'I can understand you both very well, sirs. And I do not like the tone you use with me. I am not some stupid American. I am Cuban!'

Okay please R&R everyone! I appreciate all critisicm .