Tapestry
Donatello always thought of the lair as a tapestry. It was intricately woven, with hours of work, love and patience put into it. It was a dedication, and art, something which Donatello took great pride in. There were times when it was difficult, when it was hard to get that one stitch just right, to find the right place for each component. It could be frustrating, inciting anger and despondency.
There were times that it scared Donatello, because he knew that he was the weaver of the tapestry, and that should he fail, his family could be crushed. Tirelessly, he worked to perfect the tapestry that was their lair, making sure not a single hole remained, making sure there were no flimsy areas. Everything had to be of optimal strength, never likely to tear or stretch.
There were days when he would collapse exhausted, into a fitful sleep, not satisfied with the day's work. He'd lie there, too exhausted to complete it, but too awake to leave the gap open for even a moment.
Then there were days where he slept sound and deep, safe in the knowledge that, for now, no more could be done, and every hole had been sealed, every wall and defense had been strengthened.
But Don knew that the lair was like a Tapestry, no matter how many defenses there were, how strong it has been made, there were always going to be ways.
If one picked at the threads long enough, they would break.
So Donatello never allowed himself to rest for long, because he knew there'd always be another gap in the tapestry, to sew shut.
AN: Hmm...a little behind again.