Lee had a fantasy. Well, two. The first one, obviously, was Kara, alive and whole, climbing out of her Viper, smug grin on her face, obnoxious and foul-mouthed and utterly overflowing with life. But that fantasy was for his most private moments, moments when no one else was around and he could remember all the things he loved and hated about Kara without anyone squeezing his shoulder or patting his back or telling him it would get better with time or asking him how he was doing.
The fantasy he relived most, though, started on the temple planet. Kara's Raptor down, Sam threatening bodily harm if something happened to her, and his response: "If something happens to her, I'll let you." That one, that's what he kept thinking about. He'd only imagined before how much it would hurt to lose Kara. He'd lost her to Sam, but at least then she was still alive. This time, he'd lost her to the gods, the ones she believed in so firmly. He envisioned how he'd walk up to Sam, remind him of his promise, and hand him a sidearm. Please. You made me a promise. Help me keep mine. I can't deal with a world without her in it. He could see the gleeful expression on Sam's face, the satisfaction he'd get out of taking his grief out on Lee. He could feel his own happiness, getting to wherever came after this, seeing Kara again, and Zak. He lived now for the day he had the courage to make his fantasy real.