a/n: i found out from my research of "obscure" words that basically, you literally can add anything to "ocracy" to describe a government.

B: Barbarocracy (noun) : a government by barbarians; barbarian rule

Jennifer Shepard groaned as she read over the latest budget breakdown. She slammed a file shut and pulled the next one towards her, gritting her teeth – she had run this agency so well for the past year; she had come in almost perfectly at budget, so of course instead of rewarding her with a bonus that would maybe let her buy the agents some rounds for the range, they were cutting ammunition allowances and docking bonus pay.

They seemed to be congratulating her for being both frugal and efficient and challenging her to make do with less – never mind that she'd all but promised she'd be able to use some political clout to get better funding for the Major Crimes Response Team. Political clout – Jenny snorted. Maybe this whole time she should have been using her feminine clout to get what she wanted; everyone thought that's how she got here anyway.

She sat back, shaking her head. She closed all the files and started putting them away into her briefcase – she'd take them home; at home, she could go through them and drink while she did it without worrying about any accusations of inappropriate behavior in the office. She found she was subject to a lot more scrutiny there – since she was a woman.

She took up her things and left her office, pausing a moment to lock the door. She pulled her key from the lock and turned around only to find herself almost nose to nose with Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

She gasped and took a step back, crashing into her door. She glared at him, straightening up hastily and brushing out wrinkles in her suit.

"Agent Gibbs," she snapped. "What the hell are you doing?"

His only reaction was to lift the corners of his mouth a little in a smirk. He stood there for a moment, gloating over how he'd startled here, and then cleared his throat and stepped back.

"Ducking out early, Director?" he asked slowly.

She flipped her wrist over.

"It's seven," she said testily. "What can I do for you?"

"That's a loaded question."

"Jethro, I am not in the mood for innuendo."

He grinned at her.

"I can be specific."

She gave him a funny look and almost laughed. He seemed to sense she was annoyed, and instead of pestering her, he was showing her some of that old charm she had fallen for. She rolled her eyes a little and folded her arm over her briefcase.

"I'm going home, Jethro," she told him, sighing.

He followed her as she headed towards the elevator.

"Want a ride?"

"I have a driver."

Gibbs shrugged, on her heels as he followed her in. He watched her as she pressed the button for the garage; then he pressed the button for the lab. Her gaze lingered on that glowing light, and she glanced at him.

"What case is keeping you?"

He gave her a mysterious look.

"Need the overtime," he quipped.

She gave him a murderous look.

He flashed a smirk.

"Cynthia said the budget came in," he drawled. "She told me not to get uppity with you."

"Uppity?"

"Yeah."

Jenny laughed. She leaned against the elevator and sighed, biting her lip. She shrugged.

"I can't do anything right," she confessed. "They tell me to be fiscally responsible, I prove that I am, and they take more money away."

"Yeah, Jen," Gibbs snorted. "That's why all the other agencies get the drop on us?"

She arched a brow at him.

"You think?"

"Yeah, they get a huge budge, and then they spend a bunch of money on crap they don't need to make sure they keep getting' more, claimin' the need it."

"I'm sorry," Jenny said, glaring at him, "When did you get a degree in the economics of federal agencies?"

"Since McGee's been bitchin' about how his FBI buddies all got company iPhones," Gibbs retorted.

Jenny gave him a sour look.

"You can tell Agent McGee that if I can work with a Blackberry, he can work with a Blackberry."

"You tell 'im," Gibbs said.

Jenny grit her teeth. She waited for him to get off when they reached the lab floor, but he stepped up and leaned against the door, giving her a look.

"Hey," he said pointedly. "You use the money right, Jen. You still look better than everyone else."

"I have to cut Cynthia's pay," she hissed.

Gibbs shrugged.

"Dock my overtime; give it to her."

Jenny blinked, taken aback. She shook her head.

"That's against the law; you can't work without pay."

"Everyone works without pay," he snorted. "They just don't know it."

"It's frustrating," Jenny lashed out. "I don't want to come out as a fiscal conservative but working for these buffoons gives me a different perspective on overspending – maybe if we weren't devoting so much funding to propping up some Middle Eastern dictatorial barbarocracy I could afford to give my female agents paid maternity leave – "

"Jen," Gibbs interrupted. "What the hell's a," he paused, and arched his eyebrows.

"Barbarocracy," she growled. "It's – a government by barbarians – Iran, Iraq, Egypt – we pay them to slaughter their people – "

"I think we quit doin' that," Gibbs quipped. "Thought I heard somethin' about revolutions." He tilted his head. "You made that word up."

"No, I didn't," she snapped. "-ocracy is a suffix that can have a lot of prefixes." She gave him a look. "You can't accuse me of making words up just because you don't know them."

"Heard democracy, theocracy...never heard that one before."

"Well, I'm sorry that the powers that be don't personally call you to check before they define something."

He looked at her a moment, and then grinned.

"At least you live here," he drawled. "Them not givin' you money for weapons is better then them killin' you with your own guns, huh?"

"First you're an economics major, now you're Confucius," she snapped, glaring at him – his charm suddenly seem so charming anymore. "Get off my elevator."

He stepped aside, smirking at her as the doors started to close. Jenny shot him a hard look.

"Gibbs," chirped Abby from behind him. "Didn't anyone tell you not to bother her today?"

Gibbs turned, and shrugged.

"She likes it when I bother her."

Abby winked at him.

"Famous last words, El Jefe."

He smirked, following her into the lab. He wondered if there was a word that described a job where you had to take orders from your ex-girlfriend.

There's no specific word for that, but female rule is "matriarchy" or "gynocracy" :D

-alexandra