The first thing Anakin knew was the gentle, soothing warmth, coupled with the softness of the blanket against his skin. It was a gentle return to consciousness: he had flirted with such things before, the real world managing to penetrate into his dreams, but now something was bearing him closer to reality, like waves pushing a shipwrecked man onto a beach. Under any other circumstance, his mind would have been filled with blind panic, but here... everything seemed familiar and safe in a strangely innate way.
A breeze picked up, and Anakin took in a deep breath. His eyes were closed but he could tell the windows were open. The beaded ends of the curtains lightly skimmed across the floor, and the heady scent of the outdoors flooded into the room. Reeds rustled against one another, a soft murmur that didn't completely end as it started to rain. The damp earth was its own perfume, solid and fertile - a gentle reintroduction to the real world.
In the distance, there was Padme's voice. "...I thought this kolto injection was identical to naturally-grown?"
"Yes, but in concentrate, it is packaged with a similar media to bacta injections. The preliminary testing we've just done is to ensure there are no harmful reactions to the carrier medium." A medical droid's clear and authoritative voice. It took Anakin a moment to place it.
"If you needed to do any sort of testing, you should have done it on me. I was exposed to the same biochemical agent... but there's been no negative reaction, correct?"
"None whatsoever. Vital signs have improved, in fact."
"Good. And the supplies on hand - how many full infusions can be done...?"
Anakin heard, although truthfully, he didn't listen. There were long strings of syllables, the rise and fall of Padme's voice, the flat intonation of the droid's. There were words but he was too tired to couple them together with meaning. It was just like when, on occasion, he would doze off in Padme's apartment at 500 Republica while she practiced a speech to give to the Senate the next day. Trade agreements, federal tax rates, refugee statuses, budget balancing... it was all the same jargon to him, so wrapped up in specialized meaning that it was ultimately meaningless. But he loved the sound of her voice. It was familiar enough to him that he could pick out the tenderness even when she was trying to be as businesslike and serious as possible.
The rain fell gently, a whispering drizzle. Yet another novel comfort. Rain had been mythical on Tatooine, something read of in storybooks, not actually experienced. Part of him considered it new and wondrous even now. Just like Padme's voice. Water falling from the sky and someone who loved him - both of these things were inexplicable and awe-inspiring just as they seemed natural and comfortable.
The bed gave a small creak, calling him back to reality: he felt the mattress shift ever so slightly as Padme sat next to him. Her hand was warm and soft as it caressed his cheek. "I suppose I should close the windows; the rain's picking up." She sucked in a deep breath before admitting: "I miss you, Ani."
It took some effort, but he managed to roll his head ever so slightly, nuzzling against her hand. Her thumb gently caressed his cheek. "Ani?" A small, drowsy smile played on his face as he finally opened his eyes. The world was blurry - it was harder than ever to focus - and the inexplicable tears made the world even blurrier as they stuck to his eyelashes. Padme gave a happy sob as she leaned in to kiss his cheek, pressing her own against his, desperate to be near him.
The strength to talk would come later - soon, but later. Right now he was safe, and that was all that mattered.