Sarah didn't even hear Jareth anymore, nothing more than one more distant noise not part of her concern right now as she fought through the tears of overwhelmed relief. Okay. Peter was okay. Not only could he heal others, apparently he could do so to himself. It was both relief and a sudden prickle of indignation at not knowing said fact that wasn't loud enough to pay attention to – yet.
His chest wasn't blasted, his heart wasn't stopped and suddenly she needed to not only see that, but feel it. She had to let go of him with one arm to do so, but he was holding her now, by hand and arm, so she let that be enough as she wormed her hand between them, still shaking as she slid her palm across his ruined shirt to his skin itself, whole and healed under her hand. Beneath that skin, his heart beat, steady and reassuring. Though she could feel that beneath her palm, her lips settled on his throat over a pulse point, not a kiss but a way to feel his heart beat there as well.
He was okay. But he hadn't been okay the entire time.
"Peter, you were dead," she whispered against his skin, voice hoarse. She hadn't really considered 'dead' or 'death' to be inherently ugly words before, but that word felt ugly to say right now with his heart beating against her hand and lips, because he wasn't dead anymore. That was a bit more than healing, of self or others, as far as she was concerned. But right now what was important was the fact she hadn't just lost him.
The relief was quieter now that she wasn't outright crying, but the feeling still strong enough to weigh in over all the others. And there was no shying away from the ability itself, just as she had never shied away from any others. If she wasn't drawing back from the fact the man she loved had been dead and now lived, it might be more than clear to anyone with questions or secret worries that there was indeed nothing that would send Sarah running in the other direction.
At least clear to those not living in willful delusion.