He only knows because Kira helped him fill in the blanks. He only really puts two and two together because when he wakes up, confused and woozy and in pain, and people he can call friends--and isn't that a funny word?--are there. They let him in on everything, for the most part.

This is much better, Credence thinks, then drifting in and out of consciousness. He's dealt with this far too much in far too recent memories, and sometimes when he closes his eyes he sees not his room, with the giant sunflower duvet, but instead a New York subway. His eyes always snap open after that, and he finds his skin crawling just a little more than usual.

Now, it's the afternoon--or so Credence guesses by looking out the window. He feels better, somehow--alleviated, relieved, because he didn't hurt anyone this time. He didn't even change. This was a natural phenomena. The one that killed Ren, he thinks. Credence is very, very glad he's not Ren.

"You saved me," he says, and his words are almost immediate when the doors open and he sees who it is. "Mr. Graves, you saved my life."